London labour and the London poor : a cyclopaedia of the condition and earnings of those that will work, those that cannot work, and those that will not work : the London street-folk ...

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6000210181

X^2. -^ ^*=^^

LONDON LABOUR

Ain> THE

LONDON POOR.

THE LONDON STREET-FOL.IC.

iA>xiioy; MUXTsr bt w. ciaiv:u{ an;> tA>:>5. BrA>:>'uRD strkrt ax? c::Ar.:N<; ciy>-«-

LONDON LABOUR

LONDON POOR ;

CYCLOPAEDIA OF THE CONDITION iVND EARNINGS

THOSE THAT WILL WOEK,
THOSE THAT CANNOT WOBK, AND
THOSE THAT WILL NOT WOEK.

DY

HENRY MAYHEW.
THE LONDON STREET-FOLK;

00MPRI8IK0.

STBEET SELLERS.
STREET BUYEB&
STREET FINDERS.

STREET PERFORMERS.
STREET ARTIZANS.
STREET LABOUBEBS.

WITH KUHSBOUS IXjIiUSTBATIOII S FBOM FHOTOGBAPHS.

VOLUME n.

LONDON:
GRIFFIN, BOHN, AND COMPANY,

STATIONEBS' HALL COURT.
1861.

252. c. idS^.

r

• 9

,. •

CONTENTS

VOLUME II.

; THE STEEET-FOLK.

I PAGR

j IsTEODUcnoy -----------l

; Steeet-Sellebs op Second-hand Auticles ------ 5

I Street-Sellers op Lite Animals --------47

I

j Street-Sellers op Mineral Productions and Natural Curiosities - - 81

I The Street-Buyers ---------- 1C3

j The Street-Jews - - - --- - ^ - - -115

I • Street-Findebs or Collectors -------- 136

The Streets op London ---••----- 181

I Chtmnet-Sweepers ---^•. ----- 338

i

I CBOssnra-SwEEPERS --^*------ 465

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

A ViBW m PmnooAT-LAinE -------. gg

A View or Bobqcast-Lane ...-.-..89

The Stbekt Doo-6ellxb ---------54

j Stbxet-Selleb of BiBD6*-NE9rs -------.72

1 The Gbzffled Street Bibd-6ELLeb -..--..^

j The Jew Old-clothes Man ---------hs

The BosE-GauBBiB -----.---- 133

The Mxtd-Labk - - - - - - -- - -155

The London Dustuan --------- 172

View o» ▲ Dubt-yabd --------- 2O8

The London Scayenoeb --------- 226

Stbeet Obderlieb ---------- 258

The Ablb-Bodied Faupeb Stbeet-Sweefeb ------ 262

The Eubbibh-Caetee- --------- 289

The London Sweep ---------- 816

One of the few BEICAININa OulIBINGhSwEEFB ------ 854

The Milkmaid's Gabland - - — . - - -i- - 870
The Sweef^s Home ----------378

The Scwxb-Huntek ----------388

Mode of Glbansino Gebsfools .-.----- 403

FLrsHnra the •Sewebs ..-..--.. 424

The Bat-Catchebs of the Sewebs ------- 431

London Kiohtmen -----..-.- 433

The Beabdbd Obosbinq-Sweefeb at the Exchange - - - - - 471

The CaoafiiNo-SwmtPEE that has been a Maid-Sebvant - - - . 479

The Ibish OBosemo^wEE^EB ----.--. 431

The Oni-i;kgoed GnoesiJfG-SwEEi'EU at Cbanoebt-Lanb - - - . 433

The Bot CBoiKtN#-SwB£PEEa ----..-. 494

1

1

LONDON LABOUE

AND

THE LONDON POOR.

VOL. II.

THE STREET-FOLK.

BOOK THE SBOOND.

INTKODUCTION.

In commencing a new volume I wonld derote a
few pages to the consideration of the import of the
£scts already collected concerning the London
Strtet-Folk, not only as regards the street-people
themselres, but also in connection with the general
society of which they form so large a proportion.

The precise extent of the proportion which the
Street-Traders bear to the rest of the Metropoli-
tan Population is the first point to be evolved ; for
the want, the ignorance, and the vice of a street-
life being in a direct ratio to the numbers, it be-
comes of capital importance that we should know
how mnny are seeking to pick up a livelihood in
the public thoroughfares. This is the more essen-
tial because the Government retumi never have
given us, and probably never mil give us, any
correct information respecting it. The Census of
1841 set down the " Hawkers, Hucksters, and
Pedlars" of the Metropolis aa numbering 2045;
and from the inquiries I have made among the
street-sellers as to the minus taken to obtain a full
account of their numbers for the next population
return, the Census of 1851 appears likely to be
about as correct in its statements concerning the
Street Traders and Performers as the one which
preceded it.

According to the nccottnta which have been col-
lected daring the progress of this work, the number
of the London Street-People, so far as the inquiry
has gone, is upwards of 40,000. This sum is made
up of 30,000 Costermongers ; 2000 Street-Sellers
of "Green-Stuff," as Watercresses, Chick weed, and
Groundsell. Turf, &c. ; 4000 St^ec^Sellers of Eat-
ables and Drinkables; 1000 selling Stationery,
Books, Papers, and Engravings in the streets ;
and 4000 other street-sellers vending manufac-
tured articles, either of metal, crockery, textile,
chemical, or miscellaneous substances, making al-
together 41,000, or in round numbers say 40,000
individuals. The 80,000 costermongers may be
said to include 12,000 men, 6000 women, and
12,000 children.

The abo?« numben comprise the main body of
people selling in the London streets ; hence if we
assert that, with the vendors of second-hand articles.
fts old metal, glass, linen, clothes, &c., nnd mineral
productions, such ns cnko, sjilt, and sand, there are
about 45,000 street-traders in the Metropolis, we
shall noty I am satisfied, be very far from the truth.

The value of the Capital, or Stock in Trade, of
these people, though individually trifling, amounts,
collectively, to a considerable sum of money — in-
deed, to very nearly 40,000/., or at the rate of
about 1/. per bead. Under the term Capital are
included the donkeys, barrows, baskets, stalls,
trays, boards, and goods belonging to the several
street-traders ; and though the stock of the water-
cress, the small- ware, the lucifer, the flower, or the
chick weed and groundsell seller may not exceed in
valuelf., and the basket or tray upon which it is
carried barely half that sum, that of the more
prosperous costermonger, possessed of his barrow
and donkey ; or of the Cheap John, with his airt
filled with hardware ; or the Packman, with his
bale of soft wares at his back, may be worth almost
as many pounds as the others are pence.

The gross amount of trade done by the London
Street-Sellers in the course of the year is so large
that the mind is at first unable to comprehend how,
without reckless extravagance, want can be in any
way associated with the class. After the most
cautious calculation, the results having been checked
and re-checked in a variety of ways, so that the con-
clusion arrived at might be somewhat near and
certainly not beyond the truth, it appears that the
" iahinffs " of the London Street-Sellers cannot be
said to be less than 2,500.000/. per annum. But
vast as this sum may seem, and especially when
considered as only a portion of the annual expen-
diture of the Metropolitan Poor,still, when we come
to spread the gross yearly receipts over 40,000
people, we find that the individual takings are but
62/. per annum, which (allowing the rate of profit
to be in all cases even 50 per cent., though 1 am
convinced it is often mnch less) gives to each street-
trader an annual income of 20/. ISs. 4c/., or within
a fraction of 8.«. a week, all the year round. And
when we come to deduct from this the loss by
perishable articles, the keep of donkeys, the wear
and tear, or hire, of barrows — the cost of stalls and
baskeU, together with the interest on stock-money
(generally at the rate of 4s. a week — and often
Is. a day — for 1/., or 1040/. percent, per annum),
we may with safety assert that the average gain or
clear income of the Metropolitan Street-Sellers is
rather under than over 7#. 6<i. a week. Somo of
the more expert street- traders may clear lOs. or
even 15s. weekly thioiigboaft tho year, whilo tko

No. L Vol XL

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

weekly profit of the leu expert, the old people,
nnd the children, may be laid to be 3*. 6</. These
incomes, however, are the arerage of the gross
yearly profits rather than the regular weekly gains ;
the consequence is, that though they might be
sufficient to keep the majority of the street- sellers
in comparative comfort, were they constant and ;
capable of being relied npon, from week to week I
—but being rariable and uncertain, and rising ,
sometimes from nothing in the winter to 1/. a week
in the summer, when street commodities are plen- |
tiful and cheap, and the poorer classes have money
wherewith to purchase them — and fluctuating
moreover, even at the best of times, according as
the weather is wet or fine, and the traffic of the
streets consequently diminished or augmented —
it is but natural that the people subject to such
alternations should lack the prudeuce and tempe-

rance of those whose incomes are more regular
and uniform.

To place the above facts clearly before the
reader the following table has been prepared. Tbo
first column states the titles of the several classes
of street-sellers ; the second, the number of indi-
viduals belonging to each of these chisses ; the
third, the value of their respective capitals or stock
in trade; the fourth, the gross amount of trade done
by them respectively every year ; the fifth, the ave-
rage yearly takings of each class ; and the sixth,
their average weekly gains. This gives us, as it
were, a bird's-eye view of the earnings and pecu-
niary condition of the various kinds of street-
sellers already treated of. It is here cited, as in-
deed all the statistics in this work are, as an ap-
proximation to the truth rather than a definite
and accurate result.

DsscRirrtoK ot class.

Number

of

Penons

in each

Class.

Grots

amount of

capital, or

stock In

trade be-

»cLJ?

Grots amount of trade

annually done by each

class.

Averajse
yearfy

receipu
per
head.

Average
weekly
gsini.

Ck>STERXoiraiBS *. ^
Street-Sellers of Wet Fish . .
Dry fish . .
„ Shell Fish .

„ „ Green Fruit .

„ „ Dry Fruit . .

„ Vegetables .

„ Game, Poultry,

BabbiU, &c.

„ Flowers, Boots,

&c. . . . j

Striet-Sellirs of Grekh Stuff.

Watercresscs''

Chickwecd, Groundsell, nnd

Plantain <

Turf-Cutters and Sellers . . .
Street-Sellers of Batablbb ahd

Drinbl/lbles

Street-Sellers of Statiohert,
Literature, ako the Fihe

Arts

Street-Sellers of Mahufao-
TURBD Articles of Metal,
Crockery and Glass, Textile,
Chemical, or Miscellaneous
Substances

30,000 »•

1,000

1,000
40

4,000
1,000

4,000
41,040

£25,000

87

42
20

9,000
400

2,800

1,177,200
127,000
156,600

1,460,800
332,400

1,000 y
292,200

625,600
80,000
14,800

2,181,200 J

13,900

14,000
570

203,100
33,400

188,200

£60

13

14
14

50
30

47

85.

8*. GJ.

5#.
5*. 6f/.

10*.

8i».

10*.

£37,529

£2,684,870

£60

8*.

* The definition of a Costermonger strictly includes only snch individuals as confine themselves to
the sale of the produce of the Green and Fruit Markets : the term is here restricted to that signification.

^ This number includes Men, Women, and Children.

'^ The Watercress trade is carried on in the streets, principally by old people and children. The
chief mart to which the street-sellers of cresses resort is Farringdon-market, a place which but few
or none of the reguUir Costermongers attend.

<i The Chickweed and Groundsell Sellers and the Turf-Cutters* traffic has but little expense con-
nected with it, and their trade is therefore nearly all profit.

WNDON LABOUR AND TUB LONDON POOR.

3

Now, according to the above estimate, it would
appear that the gross annual receipts of the entire
body of street-sellers (for there are many besides
those above specified — as for instance, the vendors
of second-hand articles, &c.) may be estimated in
round numbers at 3,000,000/. sterling, and their
clear income at about 1,000,000/. per annum.
Hence, we are enabled to perceive the importance
of the apparently insignificant traffic of the streets ;
for were the street-traders to be prohibited from
pursuing their calling, and so forced to apply for
relief at the several metropolitan unions, the poor-
rates would be at the least doubled. The total
sum expended in the relief of the London poor,
during 1848, was 725«000/., but this we see is
hardly three-fourths of the income of the street-
traders. Those, therefore, who would put an end
to the commerce of our streets, should reflect
whether they would like to do so at the cost
of doubling the present poor-rates and of reducing
one-fortieth part of the entire metropolitan popu-
lation from a state of comparative independence to
absolute pauperism.

However unsatisfactory it may be to the aristo-
cratic pride of the wealthy commercial classes, it
cannot be denied that a very important element of
the trade of this vast capital — this marvellous
centre of the commerce of the world — I cite the
stereotype phrases of civic eloquence, for they
are at least truths — it is still undeniable, I say,
that a large proportion of the commerce of the
capital of Great Britain is in the hands of the
Street- Folk. This simple enunciation might appear
a mere platitude were it not that the street-sellers
are a proscribed class. They are driven from
stations to which long possession might have been
thought to give them a quasi legal right; driven
from them at the capricious desire of the shop-
keepers, some of whom have had bitter reason, by
the diminution of their own business, to repent
their interference. They are bandied about at the
will of a police-officer. They must " move on "
and not obstruct a thoroughfare which may be
crammed and blocked with the carriages of the
wealthy until to cross the road on foot is a danger.
They are, in fine, a body numbering thousands,
who are allowed to live in the prosecution of the
most ancient of all trades, sale or barter in the
open air, by sufferance alone. They are classed as
unauthorized or illegal and intrusive traders, though
they " turn over " millions in a year.

The authorities, it is true, do not sanction any
general arbitrary enforcement of the legal pro-
scription of the Street-Folk, but they have no option
if a section of shopkeepers choose to say to them,
" Drive away from our doors these street^people."
It appears to be sufficient for an inferior class of
tradesmen — for such the meddlers with the street-
folk generally seem to be — merely to desire such
a removal in order to accomplish it. It is not
necessary for them to say in excuse, " We pay
heavy rents, and rates, and taxes, and are forced to
let our lodgings accordingly ; we pay for licences, and
some of us as well pay fines forgiving short weight
to poor people, and that, too, when it is hardly safe
to give short weight to our richer patrons ; but

what rates, taxes, or licences do these street-
traders pay ? Their lodgings may be dear enough,
but their rates are nominally nothing" (being
charged in the rent of their rooms). ** From taxes
they are blessedly exempt They are called upon
to pay no imposts on their property or income ;
they defray merely the trifling duties on their
tobacco, beer, tea, sugar, coffee " (though these by
the way — the chief articles in the excise and
customs returns — ^make up one-half of the revenue
of the country). "They ought to be put down.
We can supply all that is wauting. What may
become of them is simply their own concern."

The Act 50 Geo. III., c. 41, requires that every
person " carrying to sell or exposing to sale any
goods, wares, or merchandize," shall pay a yearly
duty. But according to s. 23, " nothing in this
Act shall extend to prohibit any person or persons
from selling (by hawking in the streets) any printed
papers licensed by authority; or any fish, fruit, or
victuals." Among the privileged articles are also
included barm or yeast, and coals. The same Act,
moreover, contains nothing to prohibit the maker
of any home-manufacture from exposing his goods
to sale in any town-market or fair, nor any tinker,
cooper, glazier, or other artizan, from going about
and carrying the materials of his business. The
unlicensed itinerant vendors of such things how-
ever as lucifer-matches, boot- laces, braces, fuzees, or
any wares indeed, not of their own manufacture,
are violators of the law, and subject to a penalty
of 10/., or three months' imprisonment for each
offence. It is in practice, however, only in the
hawking of such articles as those on which the
duty is heavy and of considerable value to the
revenue (such as tea, tobacco, or cigars), that there
is any actual check in the London streets.

Nevertheless, a large proportion of the street-
trading without a licence is contrary to law, and
the people seeking to obtain a living by such
means are strictly liable to fine or imprisonment,
while even those street-traders whom the Act
specially exempts — as for instance the street-sellers
of fish, fruit, and vegetables, and of eatables and
drinkables, as well as the street artizans, and who
are said to have the right of "exposing their
goods to sale in any market or feir in every city,
borough, town -corporate, and market- town " — even
these, I say, are liable to be punished for obstruct-
ing the highway whenever they attempt to do so.

Now these are surely anomalies which it is
high time, in these free-trade days, should cease.
The endeavour to obtain an honest and inde-
2>endent livelihood should subject no man to fine
or imprisonment; nor should the poor hawker —
the neediest perhaps of all tradesmen — be required
to pay 4/. a year for the liberty to carry on his
business when the wealthy shopkeeper can do so
" scot-free." Moreover, it is a glaring iniquity
that the rich tradesman should have it in his
power, by complaining to the police, to deprive his
poorer rival of the right to dispose of his goods in
the streets. It is often said, in justification, that
as the shopkeepers pay the principal portion of
the rates and taxes, they must be protected m
the exercise of their business. But this, in f *^

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

firtt place, is far from the truth. As regards the
taxes, the poorer classes pay nearly half of the
national imposts : they pay the chief portion of
the malt duty, and that is in round nimibers
5,000,000/. a year ; the greater part of the spirit
doty, which is 4,350,000/.; the tobacco duty,
4,250,000/. ; the sugar duty, 4,500,000/. ; and
the duty on tea, 5,330,000/. ; making altogether
23,480,000/., out of about 50,000,000/. Con-
coming the rates, however, it is not so easy to
estimate what proportion the poor people con-
tribute towards the local burdens of the country ;
but if they are householders, they have to pay
quota of the parish and county expenses directly,
and, if lodgers, indirectly in the rent of their
apartments. Hence it is evident, that to consider
the street-sellers unworthy of being protected in
the exercise of their calling because they pay
neither rates nor taxes, is to commit a gross in-
justice, not only to the street-sellers themselves by
forcing them to contribute in their tea and sugar,
their beer, gin, and tobacco, towords the expenses
of a Government which exerts itself rather to
injure than benefit them, but likewise to the rate-
payers of the parish ; fur it is a necessary conse-
quence, if the shopkeepers have the power to
deprive the street-dealers of their living whenever
the out-of door tradesmen are thought to interfere
with the business of those indoors (perhaps by
underselling them), that the stree^dealers, being
unable to live by their own labour, must betake
themselves to the union and live upon the labour
of the parishioners, and thus the shopkeepers
may be said to enrich themselves at the expense,
not only of the poor street-people, but likewise
of their brother ratepayers.

Nor can it be said that the Sbtd-SelUrt are
int<frlopers upon these occasions, for if ancient
custom be referred to, it will be found that the
Shopkeepers are the real intruders, they having
succeeded the Hawkers, who were, in truth, the
original distributors of the produce of the country.

But though no body of Shopkeepers, nor,
indeed, any other cla^s of people individwilty,
should possess the power to deprive the Hawkers
of what is often the last shift of struggling
independence — the sale of a few goods in the
street — still it is evident that the general con-
venience of the public must be consulted, and
that, were the Street-Traders to bo allowed the
right of pitching in any thoroughfare they pleased,
many of our principal streets would he blocked up
with costers' barrows, and the kerb of Kegent-
street possibly crowded like that of the New Out,
with the hawkers and hucksters that would be
sure to resort thither; while those thoroughfares
which, like Fleet-street and Cheapside, are now
almost impassable at certain times of the day,
from the increased traffic of the City, would be
rendered still more impervious by the throngs of
street-sellers that the crowd alone would be sure
to attract to the spot

Under the cireumstancos, therefore, it becomes
necessary that we should provide for the vast
body of Street-Sellers some authorized pl.ice of
resort, where they might be both enUtled and

permitted to obtain an honest living aeeording to
Act of Parliament. To think for a moment of
"putting down" street-trading is to be at once
ignorant of the nxmibers and character of the
people pursuing it To pass an Act declaring
50,000 individuals rogues and vagabonds, would
be to fill our prisons or our workhouses with men
who would willingly earn their own living. Be-
sides, the poor wUl buy of the poor. Subject the
petty trader to fine and imprisonment as yon
please, still the very sympathy and patronage of
the petty purchaser will in this country always
call into existence a large body of purveyors to
the poorer classes. I would suggest, therefore,
and I do so after much consideration, and an
earnest desire to meet all the difficulties of the
case, that a number of *' poor men's markets "' be
established thronghout London, by the purchase
or rental of plots of ground in the neighbourhood
of the present street-markets ; that a small toll be
paid by each of the Street-Sellers attending such
markets, for the right to rend their goods there —
that the keeper or beadle of each market be like-
wise an Inspector of Weights and Measures,
and that any hawker found using "slangs" of
any kind, or resorting to any imposition what-
ever, be prohibited entering the market for the
future — that the conduct and regulation of the
markets be under the direction of a committee
consisting of an equal number of shareholders,
sellers, and working men — the latter as repre-
sentatives of the buyers — and that the surplus
funds (if any, after paying all expenses, together
with a fair interest to the shareholders of the
market) should be devoted to the education of
the children of the hawkers before and after the
hours of sale. There might also be a penny
savings'-bank in connection with each of the mar-
kets, and a person stationed at the gates on the
conclusion of the day's business, to collect all he
could from the hawkers as they left.

There are already a sufficient number of poor-
markets established at the Kast end of the
town — though of a different character, such as
the Old Clothes Exchange — to prove the prac-
ticability of the proposed plan among even the
pettiest traders. And I am convinced, after long
deliberation, that such institutions could not but
tend to produce a rapid and marked improvement
in the character of the London Hawkers.

This is the only way evident to me of meeting
the evil of our present street-life— an evil which
is increasing every day, and which threatens, ere
long, almost to overwhelm us with its abomina-
tions. To revile the street-people is stark folly.
Their ignorance is no demerit to them, even as it
is no merit to us to know the little that wc
do. If we really wish the people better, let
us, I say again, do for them what others have
done for us, and without which (humiliating as
it may be to our pride) we should most assuredly
have been as they are. It is the continued for-
getfulness of this truth — a truth which our
wretched self-conceit is constantly driving from
our minds — ^that prevents our stirring to improve
the condition of these poor people ; though, if we

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

knew \mi the whole of the facta concerning
them, and their infftfringi and feelings, our very
feara alone for the aafety of the atate would be
sufficient to make us do soniething in their behalf.
I am quite satisfied, from nil 1 have seen, that
there are thouaanda in thia great metropolis ready
to rush forth, on the ledst evidence of a rising of
the people, to commit the most sayage and revolt-
ing ezceaaei — men who have no knowledge of
the goyemment of the country but as an armed
despotism, prerenting their earning their living.
and who bate all law, because it it made to appear
to them merely as an organised tyranny — ^men,
too, who have neither religious nor moral princi-
plea to reatrain the exercise of their grossest pas-
sions when onee roused, and men who, from our
▼ery neglect of them, are necessarily and essen-
tially the dangerous classes, whose existence we
either rail at or deplore.

The rate of increase among the street-traders it
is almost impoasible to arrive at The population
returns afford us no data for the calculation, and
the street-people themselves are unable to supply
the least information on the subject ; all they can
tell us is, that about 20 years ago they took a
guinea for every shilling that they get now. This
heavy reduction of their receipts they attribute to
the cheapness of commodities, and the necessity
to carry and sell a greater quantity of goods in
order to get the same profit, as well as to the in-
crease in the number of street-traders ; but when
questioned as to the extent of such increase, their
answers are of the vaguest possible kind. Arrang-
ing the street-people, however, as we have done,
into three distinct classes, according to the causes
which have led to their induction into a street-
life, riz., those who are horn and bred to the
streets — those who take to the streets — and
those who are drivm to the streets, it is evident
that the main elements of any extraordinary in-
crease of the street-folk must be sought for among
the two latter classes. Among the first the in-
crease will, at the utmost, be at the same rate
as the ordinary increase of the population — via.,
14 percent per annum; for the English coster-
mongers and street-traders in general appear to
be remarkable rather for the small than the large
number of their children, so that, even supposing
all the boys and girls of the street-sellers to be
brought up to the same mode of life as their
Esther, we could not thus aecount for any mot-
nunu increase among the street-folk. With those,
however, who iak« to the streets from the love of
a '' roving life," or the desire to " shake a free
leg'* — to quote the phrases of the men them-
selves— or are drivtn to the streeta from an ina-
bility to obtain employment at the pursuit to
which they have been accustomed, the case is fax
different

That there is every day a greater difficulty for
working men to live by their labour— either from
the paucity of work, or from the scanty remunera-
tion given for it — surely no one will be disposed to
question when every one is crpng out that the
country is over-populated. Such being the case, it
is evident that the number of mechanics in the
streets must be daily augmenting, for, as I have
before said, street- trading is the last shift of an un-
employed artizan to keep himxelf and his family
from the " Union." The workman out of work,
sooner than starve or go to the parish for relief,
takes to making up and vending on his own ac-
count the articles of his craft, whilst the underpaid
workman, sooner than continue toiling from morn-
ing till midnight for a bare subsistence, resorts to
the easier trade of buying and selling. Again,
even among the less industrioua of the working
classes, the general decline in wages has tended,
and is continually tending, to make their labour
more and more irksome to them. There is a cant
abroad at the present day, that there is a special
pleasure in industry, and hence we are taught
to regard all those who object to work as apper-
taining to the claas of natural vagabonds; but
where is the roan among us that loves labour 1
for work or labour is merely that which is irk-
some to perform, and which every man requires
a certain amount of remuneration to induce him
to perform. If men really loved work they would
pay to be allowed to do it rather than re-
quire to be paid for doing it That occupation
which is agreeable to us we call amusement, and
that and that only which is disagreeable we term
labour, or drudgery, according to the intensity ef
its irksomeness. Hence as the amount of remu-
neration given by way of inducement to a man to
go through a certain amount of work becomes re-
duced, so does the stimulus to work become wear
kened, and this, through the decline of wages,
is what is daily taking place among us. Our ope-
ratives are continually ceasing to be producers,
and passing from the creators of wealth into the
exchangers or distributors of it; becoming mere
tradesmen, subsisting on the labour of other
people rather than their own, and so adding to
the very non-producers, the great number of
whom is the main cause of the poverty of those
who make all our riches. To teach a people
the difficulty of living by labour is to inculcate the
most dangerous of all lessons, and this is what
we are daily doing. Our trading classes are in-
creasing at a most enormous rate, and so giving
rise to that exceeding competition, and conse-
quently, to that continual reduction of prices — all
of which must ultimately foil upon the working
man. This appears to me to be the main cause of
the increase of the London street people, and one
for which I candidly confeu I see no remedy.

OF THE STREET-SELLERS OF SECOND-HAND ARTICLES.

I BATi already treated of the street^ommerce in
auch things as are presented to the public in the form
in which they are to be cooked, eaten, drank, or used.

They have comprised the necessaries, delicacies,
or luxuries of the street; they iiave been either the
raw food or preparations ready cooked or mixed for

LONDON LABOUR AND TUB LONDON POOR.

immediate consumptioii, as in the case of the street
eatable* and drinkable! ; or else they were the
proceeds of taste (or its substitute) in art or litera-
ture, or of usefulness or ingenuity in manufhcture.

All these many objects of street-commerce may
be classified in one well-known word : they are
bought and sold JirsUhand. I have next to deal
with the iecond'hand sellers of our streets ; and
in this division perhaps will be found more that is
novel, curious, and interesting, than in that just
completed.

Mr. Babbage, in his " Economy of Machinery
and Manufactures," says, concerning the employ-
ment of materials of little value : " The worn-out
saucepan and tin-ware of our kitchens, when beyond
the reach of the linkers art, are not utteily worth-
less. We sometimes meet carts loaded with old
tin kettles and worn-out iron coal-skuttles traver-
sing our streets. These have not yet completed
their useful course ; the less corroded parts are
cut into strips, punched with small holes, and
varnished with a coarse black varnish for the use
of the trunk-maker, who protects the edges and
angles of his boxes with them ,* the remainder are
conveyed to the manufincturing chemists in the
outskirts, who employ them in combination with
pyroligneous acid, in making a black dye for the
use of calico-printers."

Mr. Babbage has here indicated one portion
of tlie nature of the street-trade in second-
hand articles — the application of worn-out mate-
rials to a new purpose. But this second-hand
commerce of the streets — for a street-commerce it
mainly is, both in selling and buying — has a far
greater extent than that above indicate<l, and many
ramifications. Under the present head I shnll
treat only of street sellen, unless when a street
pwxfuue may be so intimately connected with a
street *aU that for the better understanding of the
subj(>ct it may be necessary to sketch both. Of
the Street-Buters and the Street-Pihdbrs,
or Collectors, both connected with the second-
hand trade, I shall treat separately.

In London, where many, in order to live, struggle
to extract a meal from the possession of an article
which seems utterly worthless, nothing must be
wasted. Many a thing which in a country town
is kicked by the penniless out of their path even,
or examined and left as meet only for the scavenger's
cart, will in London be snatched up as a prize ; it
is money's worth. A crushed and torn bonnet, for
instance, or, better still, an old hat, napless, shape-
less, crownless, and brimless, will be picked up in
the street, and carefully placed in a bag with
similar things by one class of street-folk — the
Street- Fin DEBS. And to tempt the well-to-do to
tell their second-hand goods, the street-trader
offers the barter of shapely china or shining glass
vessels ; or blooming fuchsias or fragrant geraniums
for "the rubbish," or else, in the spirit of the
hero of the fairy tale, he exchanges, " new lamps
for old."

Of the street sale of second-hand articles, with
all the collateral or incidental matter bearing im-
mediately on the subject, I shall treat under the
following heads, or under such heads as really

constitute the staple of the business, dismissing
such as may be trifling or exceptional. Of these
traffickers, then, there are five classes, the mere
enumeration of the objects of their traffic being
curious enough : —

1. The Street-Sellers of Old Metal Articles, such
as knives, forks, and butchers* steels ; saws, ham-
mers, pincers, files, screw-drivers, planes, chisels,
and other tools (more frequently those of the
workers in wood than of other artisans) ; old
scissors and shears ; locks, keys, and hinges ;
shovels, fire-irons, trivets, chimney-cranes, fen-
ders, and fire-guards ; warming-pans (but rarely
now) ; flat and Italian irons, curling-tongs ; rings,
horse-shoes, and nails ; coffee and tea-pots, urns,
trays, and canisters ; pewter measures ; scales and
weights; bed-screws and keys; candlesticks and
snuffers ; niggnrds, generally called niggers (t. e.,
fiilse bottoms for gnites) ; tobacco and snuff-boxes
and spittoons ; door-plates, numbers, knockers,
and escutcheons ; dog-collars and dog-chains (and
other chains); gridirons; razors; coffee-mills;
lamps ; swords and daggers ; gun and pistol-
barrels and locks (and occasionally the entire
weapon) ; bronze and cast metal figures ; table,
chair, and so& castors ; bell-puIls and bells ; the
larger buckles and other metal (most frequently
brass) articles of harness furniture; compositors'
sticks (the depositories of the type in the first
instance) ; the multifarious kinds of tin-wares ;
stamps ; cork-screws ; barrel-taps ; ink-stands ; a
multiplicity of culinary vessels and of old metal lids;
footmen, broken machinery, and parts of machinery,
as odd wheels, and screws of all sizes, &c, &c.

2. The Street'SelUrs of Old Linen, Cotton, and
Woollen Articles, such as old sheeting for towels;
old curtains of dimity, muslin, cotton, or moreen ;
carpeting ; blanketing for house-scouring cloths ;
ticking for beds and pillows ; sacking for different
purposes, according to its substance and quality ;
fringes ; and stocking-legs for the supply of " job-
bing worsted," and for re-fuoting.

I may here observe that in the street-tmde,
second-hand linen or cotton is often mode to pay
a double debt. The shirt-collars sold, sometimes
to a considerable extent and very cheap, in the
street-markets, are made out of linen which has
previously been used in some other form ; so is it
with white waistcoats and other habiliments. Of
the street-folk who vend such wares I shall speak
chiefly in the fourth division of this subject, viz. the
second-hand street-sellers of miscellaneous articles.

8. The Street-Sellers of Old Glass and Crockery,
including the variety of bottles, odd, or in sets,
or in broken sets ; pans, pitchers, wash-hand
basins, and other crockery utensils ; china orna-
ments ; pier, convex, and toilet glasses (often
without the fr-ames) ; pocket ink-bottles ; wine,
beer, and liqueur glasses; decanters; glass fish-
bowls (occasionally) ; salt-cellars ; sugar-basins ;
and lamp and gas glasses.

4. The Street- Sellei's of Miscellaneous Articles.
These are such as cannot properly be classed under
any of the three preceding heads, and include a
mass of ntiscellaneous commodities : Accordions
and other musical instruments ; brushes of all

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

defcriptioiis ; thaiiiig-boxei and nueor-fltropt ;
baikets of many kinds ; ftoffed birds, with and
without frames; pictures, with and withoot
frames; desks, work>bozes, tea-caddies, and
many articles of old furniture ; boot-jacks and
hooks; shoe-horns; cartouche-boxes; pocket and
opera glasses; rules, and measures in frames;
backgammon, and chess or draught boards and
men, and dice ; boxes of dominoes ; cribbage-
boards and boxes, sometimes with old packs of
cards ; pope-boards (boards used in playing the
game of " Pope," or "Pope Joan," though rarely
seen now); " fish," or card counters of bone, ivory,
or mother of pearl (an equal rarity) ; microscopes
(occasionally) ; an extensire rariety of broken or
fiuied things, new or long kept, such as magic-
huBtems, dissected maps or histories, &c., from the
toy warehouses and shops ; Dutch clocks ; baro-
meters; wooden tiays; shells; music and books
(the latter being ohta. odd volumes of old novels) ;
tee-totums, and similar playthings ; ladies' head-
combs ; umbrellas and parasols ; fishing-rods and
nets; reins, and other parts of cart, gig, and
'' two-horse " harness ; boxes full of " odds and
ends " of old leather, such as water-pipes ; and a
mass of imperfect metal things, which had " better
be described," said an old dealer, "as firom a
needle to an anchor."

5. The Strtei-StUers of Old Apparel, including
the body habiliments, constituting alike men's,
women's, boys', girls', and infiints' attire : as well
as hats, caps, gloves, belts, and stockings ; shirts
and shirt-fronts ("dickeys"); handkerchiefs,
stocks, and neck-ties; furs, such as victorines,
boas, tippets, and edgings ; beavers and bonnets ;
and the other several, and sometimes not easily
describable, articles which constitute female fashion-
able or ordinary wear.

I may here observe, that of the wares which
once formed a portion of the stock of the street-
sellers of the fourth and fifth divisions, but which
are now no longer objects of street sale, were, till
within the last few years, fims ; back and shoulder
boards (to make girls grow straight !) ; scveml
things at one time thought indispensable to every
well-nurtured child, such as a coral and bells;
belts, sashes, scabbards, epaulettes, feathers or
plumes, hard leather stocks, and other indications
of the volunteer, militia, and general military
spirit of the early part of the present century.

Before proceeding immediately with my sub-
ject, I may say a few words concerning what is,
in the estimation of some, a second-hand matter.
I allude to the many uses to which that which is
regarded, and indeed termed, " offiU," or " refuse,"
or " waste," is put in a populous city. This may
be evidenced in the multiform uses to which the
" efikl " of the animals which are slaughtered for
our use are put It is still more curiously shown
in the uses of the oifid of the animals which are
killed, not for our use, but for that of our dogs
and cats ; and to this part of the subject I shall
more especially confine the remarks I have to
make. My observations on the uses of other
waste articles will be found in another place.

What in the butcher's trade is considered the
offiil of a bullock, was explained by Mr. Deputy
Hicks, before the last Select Committee of the
House of Commons on Smithfield Market : " The
carcass," he said, " as it hangs clear of everything
else, is the carcass, and all else constitutes the
oflW."

The carcass may be briefly termed the four
quarters, whereas the offal then comprises the
hide, which in the average-sized bullock that is
slaughtered in London is worth 12s. ; but with the
hide are sold the horns, which are worth about
lOe^. to the comb-makers, who use them to make
their "tortoise-shell" articles, and for similar
purposes. The hoofs are worth 2d, to the glue-
makers, or prussiate of potash manufiicturers.
What " comes out of a bullock," to use the trade
term, is the liver, the lights (or lungs), the stomach,
the intestinal canal (sometimes 86 yards when
extended), and the gall duct. These portions,
with the legs (called " feet " in the trade), form
what is styled the tripe-man's portion, and are
disposed of to him by the butcher for bt, Qd,
Separately, the value of the liver is 8<£., of the
lights, 6(i. (both for dogs'-meat), and of the legs
which are worked into tooth-brush handles,
dominoes, &c., Is. The remaining 8s. Ad, is the
worth of the other portion. The heart averages
rather more than Is. ; the kidneys the same ; the
head, Is. 9(2. ; the blood (which is " let down the
'drain " in all but the larger slaughtering houses)
1^(^. (being M. for 9 gallons) ; the tallow (7 stone)
lAs. ; and the tail, I was told, " from nothing to
2s.," averaging about 6<Z. ; the tongue, 2s. 6e/.
Thus the otial sells, altogether, first hand, for
IL 18s. 6rf.

I will now show the uses to which what is far
more decidedly pronounced " offnl," and what is
much more " second-hand " in popular estimation,
viz., a dead horse, is put, and even a dead horse's
offal, and I will then show the difference in this
curious trade between the Parisian and London
horse offiil.

The greatest horse-slaughtering establishments
in France are at Montfaucon, a short distance
from the capital. When the animal has been
killed, it is " cut up," and the choicer portions of
the flesh are eaten by the work-people of the
establishment, and by the hangers-on and jobbers
who haunt the locality of such places, and are
often men of a desperate character. The rest of
the carcass is sold .for the feeding of dogs, cats,
pigs, and poultry, a portion being also devoted to
purposes of manure. The flesh on a horse of
average size and fatness is 850 lbs., which sells
for 1^. 12s. 6<^. But this is only one of the uses of
the dead animal.

The skin is sold to a tanner for 10s. 6<2. The
hoofs to a manufacturer of sal ammonia, or similar
preparations, or of Prussian blue, or to a comb or
toy-maker, for Is. Ad. The old shoes and the
shoe-nails are worth %\A. The hair of the mane
and tail realizes 1 \d. The tendons are disposed
of, either fresh or dried, to glue-makers for 8<2. —
a ponud of dried tendons (separated from the
muiscles) being about the average per horse. The

B 8

LONDOir LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

bonei are boagbt by the tarnen, cutlers, fan-
makers, and the mnkers of ivory black and sal
ammoniac, 00 lbs. being an average weight of the
animal's bones, and realizing 2«. The intestines
wrought into the ditTerent preparations required of
the gut-makers, or for manure, are worth 2d,

The blood is used by the sugar-refiners, and by
the fatteners of poultry, pigeons, and turkeys
(which devour it greedily), or else for manure.
When required for manure it is dried — 20 lbs. of
dried blood, which is the average weight, being
worth \n. 9d, The fat is removed from the car-
cass and melted down. It is in demand for the
making of gas, of soap, and (when very fine) of —
bear's grease ; also for the dubbing or grease
applied to harness and to shoe-leather. This fat
when consumed in lamps communicates a greater
portion of heat than does oil, and is therefore
preferred by the makers of glass toys, and by
enamellers and polishers. A horse at Montfaucon
has been known to yield 60 lbs. of hi, but this is
an extreme case ; a yield of 12 lbs. is the produce
of a horse in fair condition, bat at these slaughter-
bouses there are so many lean and sorry jades
that 8 lbs. may be taken as an average of &t, and
at a value of 6d. per lb. Nor does the list end
here ; the dead and putrid flesh is made to teem
with life, and to produce food for other living
creatures. A pile of pieces of flesh, six inches in
height, layer on layer, is slightly covered with hay
or straw ; the flies soon deposit their eggs in the
attractive matter, and thus maggots are bred, the
most of which are used as food for pheasants, and
in a smaller degree of domestic fowls, and as baits
for fish. These maggots give, or are supposed to
give, a "game flavour" to poultry, and a very
*' hi^h " flavour to pheasants. One horse*s flesh
thus produces maggots worth Is. 6d. The total
amount, then, realised on the dead horse, which
may cost 10s. 6d., is as follows : —

£ s. d.
The flesh . . . 1 12 6
The skin . . . 0 10 6
The hoofs . . . 0 14
The shoes and nails . 0 0 2|
The mane and tail . . 0 0 1 1
The tendons . . 0 0 3

The bones . . 0 2 0

The intestines . . 0 0 2

The blood . . 0 19

The fat . 0 4 0

The maggots . 0 15

£2 14 8
The carcass of a French horse is also made
available in another way, and which relates to a
subject I have lately treated of — the destruction of
rats ; but this is not a regularly-accruing emolu-
ment. Montfancon swarms with rats, and to kill
them the carcass of a horse is placed in a room,
into which the rats gain access through openings in
the floor contrived for the purpose. At night the
rats are lured by their keenness of scent to the
room, and lured in numbers; the openings are
then closed, and they are prisoners. In one room
16,000 were killed in four weeks. The Paris

furriers gave from threa to four franei for 100
skins, so that, taking the average at 8«. of our
money, 16,000 rat-skins would return 24/.

In London the uses of the dead horse's flesh,
bones, blood, &c., are different

Horse-flesh is not — as yet — a portion of human
food in this country. In a recent parliamentary
inquiry, witnesses were examined as to whether
hnrse-flesh was used by the sausage-mnkers.
There was some presumption that such might be
the case, but no direct evidence. I found, how-
ever, among butchers who had the best means of
knowing, a strong conviction that such was the
case. One highly-respectable tradesman told me
he was as certain of it as that it was the month
of June, though, if called upon to produce legal
evidence proving either that such was the sausage-
makers' practice, or thnt this wu the month of
June, he might fiul in both instances.

I found among street-people who dealt in pro-
visions a strong, or, at any rate, a strongly-ex-
pressed, opinion that the tongues, kidneys, and
hearts of horses were sold as those of oxen. One
man told me, somewhat triumphantly, as a result
of his ingenuity in deduction, that he luid thoughts
at one time of trying to esublish himself in a
oats' -meat walk, and made inouiries into the nature
of the calling : " I 'm satisfiea the 'osses' arts," he
said, ** is sold for beastesses' ; 'cause you see, sir,
there 's nothing as 'ud be better liked for &vour-
ite cats and pet dogs, than a nice piece of 'art, but
ven do yon see the 'osses' 'arts on a barrow t If
they don't go to the cats, vere does they go to 1
Vy, to the Christians."

I am assured, however, by tradesmen whose
interest (to say nothing of other eonsiderations)
would probably make them glad to expose such
practices, that this substitution of the equine for
the bovine heart is not attempted, and is hardly
possible. The bullock's heart, kidneys, and
tongne, are so different in shape (the heart, more
especially), and in the colour of the fat, while the
rough tip of the ox's tongue is not found in that of
the horse, that this second-hand, or offal kind of
animal food could not be palmed off upon any one
who had ever purchased the heart, kidneys, or
tongue of an ox. " If the horse's tongue be used
as a substitute for that of any other," said one
butcher to roe, "it is for the dried reindeer's—
a savoury dish for the breakfiut table !" Since
writing the above, I have had convincing proof
given me that the horses' tongues are cured and
sold as ** naats." The heart and kidneys are also
palmed, I find, for those of oxen I I Thus, in one
respect, there is a material difference between
the usages, in respect of this food, between Paris
and London.

One tradesman, in a large way of business—
with many injunctions that I should make no
allusion that might lead to his being known, as he
said it might be his ruin, even though he never
slaughtered the meat he sold, but was, in ikct, a
dead salesman or a vendor of meat consigned to
him — one tradesman, I say, told me that he fan-
cied there was an unretuofuMe objection to the
eating of horse-flesh among us. The hoise was

LONDON LABOUR AND TEE LONDON POOR.

quite as dainty in hia food aa the ox, he waa
quite as graminiToroat, and shrunk more, from a
nicer sense of smell, from anything pertaining to a
contact with animal food than did the ox. The
principal objection lies in the number of diseased
horses sold at the knackers. My informant rea^
soned only from analogy, as he had never tisted
horse-flesh ; but a great-uncle of his, he told me,
had relished it highly in the peninsular war.

The uses to which a horse's carcaM are put in
London are these : — The skin, for tanning, sells for
6s. as a low a?erage; the hoofs, for glue, are
worth ^. ; the shoes and nails, \\d. ; the mane
and uil, \\d, ; the bones, which in London (as
it was described to roe) are " cracked up " for
manure, bring Is. M. ; the fat is melted down
and used for cart-grease and common harness
oil ; one person acquainted with the trade thought
that the average yield of hx was 10 lbs. per
horse ("taking it low"), another that it was
12 lbs. ("taking it square"), so that if 11 lbs.
be accepted as an average, the fat, at 2d per lb.,
would realise Is. lOd. Of the tendons no use is
made ; of the blood none ; and no maggots are
reared upon putrid horse-fle«h, but a butcher, who
had been twenty years a £srmer also, told me that
he knew from experience that there was nothing
so good as maggots for the fattening of poultry,
and he thought, from what I told him of maggot-
breeding in Montfisneon, that we were behind the
French in this respect.

Thus the English dead horse— the vendor re-
ceiving on an average IL from the knacker,-^
realises the following amount, without including
the knacker's profit in disposing of the flesh to
the cau'-meat man ; but computing it merely at
2/. we have the subjoined receipts : —

£ s d.
The flesh (averaging 2 cwt,

sold at 2^d, per lb. . .200
The skin . . . .060
The hoofs . . . .002
The shoes and nails . . 0 0 1|
Tha bonaa • .016

The fiit . . . . 0 1 10
The tendons . . .000

The tongue, &c • . 1

The blood . . . .000
The intestines . .000

£2 9 7^
The French dead horse, then, is made a source
of nearly (is. higher receipt than the English.
On my inquiring the reason of this difference, and
why the blood, &c, were not made available, I
was told that the demand by the Prussian blue
manufacturers and the sugar refiners was so fully
supplied, and over-supplitrd, from the great cattle
slaughter-houses, that the private butchers, for the
trifling sum to he gained, let the blood be wasted.
One bullock slaughterer in Pox and Knot-yard,
who kills 180 cattle in a week, receives only 1^.
for the blood of the whole number, which is re-
ceived in a well in the sUughter-house. The
amount paid for blood a few year's back was more
than double its present rate. Under these circum-

stances, I was told, it would be useless trying to
turn the wasted offiil of a horse to any profitable
purpose. There is, I am told, on an average,
1000 horses slaughtered every week in London,
and this, at 21. lOi. each animal, would make the
value of the dead horses of the metropolis amount
to 180,000/. per annum.

Were it not that 1 might be dwelling too long
on the subject, I might point out how the ofial of
the skins was made to subserve other purposes from
the Bermondsey tan-yards ; and how the parings
and scrapings went to the makers of glue and sixe,
and the hair to the builders to mix with lime,
&c.,&c.

I may instance another thing in which the
worth of what in many places is valueless refuse
is exemplified, in the matter of " waste," as waste
paper i/i always called in the trade. Paper in all
its glossiest freshness is but a reproduction of what
had become in some measure " waste," viz. the
rags of the cotton or linen fabric after serving their
original purpose. There is a body of men in
London who occupy themselves entirely in col-
lecting waste paper. It is no matter of what kind ;
a small prayer-book, a once perfumed and welcome
love-note, lawyers' or tailors' bills, acts of parlia-
ment, and double sheets of the Timss, form portions
of the waste dealers stock. Tons upon tons are
thus consumed yearly. Books of every descrip-
tion are ingredients of this waste, and in every
language; modem poems or pamphlets and old
romances (perfect or imperfect), Shakespeare,
Moli^re, Bibles, music, histories, stories, magazines,
tracts to convert the heathen or to prove how
easily and how immensely our national and indivi-
dual wealth might be enhanced, the prospectuses
of a thousand companies, each certain to prove a
mine of wealth, schemes to pay off the national
debt, or recommendations to wipe it off, auctioneers'
catalogues and long-kept letters, children's copy-
books and last century ledgers, printed effusions
which have progressed no further than the unfolded
sheets, uncut wurks and books mouldy from age —
all these things are found in the insatiute \»g of
the waste collector, who of late has been worried
because he could not supply enough ! " I don't
know how it is, sir," said one waste collector, with
whom I had some conversation on the subject of
street-sold books, with which business he was also
connected, " 1 can't make it out, but paper gets
scarcer or else 1 'm out of luck. Just at this tune
my fiimily and me really couldn't live on my wasta
if we hod to depend entirely upon it."

I am assured that in no place in the world is
this traffic carried on to anything approaching the
extent that it is in Londitn. When I treat of the
street* buyers I shall have some curious information
to publish on the subject. I do but allude to it
here as one strongly illustrative of "second-hand"
appliances.

Of the Street-Sellers of Second-Havd

Metal Artiolss.

I HATE in the preceding remarks specified the

wares sold by the vendors of the second-hand

articles of metal manufacture, or (as they are

10

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

called iu the streeU) the "old metal " men. Tbo
■everal articles I have BpedBed may never be all
fonnd at one time upon oiiie stall, but they are
all found on the respective stalls. " Aye, sir/'
said one old man whom I conversed with, ** and
there 's more things every now and then comes to
the stalls, and there used to be still more when I
were young, but I can't call them all to mind, for
times is worse with me, and so my memory &ils.
But there used to be a good many bayonets, and
iron tinder-boxes, and steels for striking lights; I
can remember them."

Some of the sellers have strong heavy barrows,
which they wheel from street to street. As this
requires a considerable exertion of strength, such
port of the trade is carried on by strong men,
generally of the costermongering class. The
weight to be propelled is about 800 lbs. Of this
class there are now a few, rarelj more than half-a-
dozen, who sell on commission in the way I have
described concerning the swag-barrowmen.

These are the "old metal swags" of street
classi6cation, but their remuneration is less fixed
than that of the other swag-barrowmen. It is some-
times a quarter, sometimes a third, and some-
times even a half of the amount taken. The
men carrying on this traffic are the servants of
the marine-store dcnicrs, or vendors of old metal
articles, who keep shops. If one of these people
be ** lumbered up," that is, if he find his stock
increase too rapidly, he furnishes a barrow, and
sends a man into the streets with it, to sell what
the shopkeeper may find to be excessive. Some-
times if the tradesman can gain only the merest
trifle more than he could gain from the people
who buy for the melting-pot, he is satisfied.

There is, or perhaps was, an opinion prevalent
that the street " old metals " in this way of busi-
ness got rid of stolen goods in such a manner as
the readiest mode of sale, some of which were
pnrposely rusted, and sold at almost any price,
so that they brought but u profit to the " fence,**
whose payment to the thief was little more than
the price of old metal at the foundr}'. I under-
stand, however, that this course is not now pur^
sued, nor is it likely that it ever was pursued to
any extent. The street-seller is directly under
the eye of the police, and when there is a search
for stolen goods, it is not very likely that they
would be paraded, however battered or rusted for
the purpose, before men who possessed descriptions
of ail goods stolen. Until the establishment of
the present system of police, this might have been
an occasional practice. One street-seller had even
heard, and he " had it from the man what did it,"
that a last-maker's shop was some years back
broken into in the expectation that money would
be met with, but none was found ; and as the
thieves could not bring away such heavy lumbering
things as lasts, they cursed their ill-luck, and
brought away such tools as they could stow about
their persons, and cover with their loose great
coats. These were the large knives, fixed to
swivels, and resembling a small scytiie, used by
the artisan to rough hew the bluck of beech -
wood ; and a variety of excellent rasps and files

(for they must be of the best), necessary for tho
completion of the last These very tools were, in
ten days after the robbery, sold from a street-
barrow.

The second-hand metal goods are sold from
stalls as well as from barrows, and these stalls are
often tended by women whose husbands may be
in some other branch of street-commerce. One of
these stalls I saw in the care of a stout elderly
Jewess, who was ^t asleep, nodding over her
locks and keys. She was awakened by the
passing policeman, lest her stock should be pil-
fered by the boys : ** Gome, wake up, mother, and
shake yourself," he said, " I shall c:itch a weazel
asleep next"

Some of these barrows and stalls are heaped
with the goods, and some are very scantily sup-
plied, but the barrows are by for the best stocked.
Many of them (especially the swag) look like
collections of the different stages of rust, from iu
incipient spots to its full possession of the entire
metal. But amongst these seemingly useless
things there is a gleam of brass or plated ware.
On one barrow I saw an old brass door-plate, on
which was engraven the name of a late learned
judge. Baron B ; another had formerly an-
nounced the residence of a dignitary of the church,
the K«v. Mr. .

The second-hand metal-sellers are to be seen
in all the street-markets, especially on the Saturday
nights ; also in Poplar, Limehousc, and the Com-
mercial-road, in Golden-lane, and in Old-street
and Old-streetroad, St Luke's, in Hoxton and
Shoreditch, in the Westminster Broadway, and
the Whitechapel-road, in Kosemary-lane, and in
the district where perhaps every street calling is
pursued, but where some special street-trades
seem peculiar to the genius of tho place, in Petti-
coat-lane. A person unacquainted with the last-
named locality may have formed an opinion th.it
Petticoat-lane is merely a lane or street. But
Petticoat- lane gives its name to a little district.
It embraces Sandys-row, Artillery -passage. Artil-
lery-lane, Frying-pan-alley, Catherine Wheel-
alley, Tripe-yard, Fishers-alley, Wentwortli-
street, liarper'stalley^ Mar) borough-court, Broad-
place. Providence-place, Kllison-street, Swan-court,
Little Love-court, Hutchiiison-street, Little Mid-
dlesex-street, Hebrew-place, BoarVhead-A-ard,
Black-horse-yard, Middlesex-street, Stoney-lane,
Meeting-house-yard, Gravel-lane, White- street.
Cutler-street, and Borer s- lane, until the wayfarer
emerges into what appears the repose and spa- I
ciousness of Devonshire-square, Bishopsgate-strect,
up Borer's-lane, or into what in the contrast
really looks like the aristocratic thoroughfaro of
the Aldgate High-street, down Middlesex-street;
or into Houndsditch through the halls of the Old
Clothes Exchange.

All these narrow streets, lanes, rows, pas-
sages, alleys, yards, courts, and places, are the
sites of the street-trade carried on in this quarter.
The whole neighbourhood rings with street cries,
many uttered in those strange east-end Jewish
tones which do not sound like Knglish. Mixed
with the incessant invitations to buy Hebrew

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

n

dainties, or the " sheepeit pargaina/' ii occaiion-
allj heard the guttural utterance of the Ene
tongue, for the ** native Irish," aa they are gome-
times called, are in possession of some portion of
the street-traffio of Petticoat-lane, the original Rag
Fair. The savour of the place is moreover peculiar.
There is fresh fish, and dried fish, and fish being
fried in a style peculiar to the Jews ; there is the
fustiness of old clothes ; there is the odour from
the pans on which (still in the Jewish fashion)
frizzle and hiss pieces of meat and onions ; pud-
dings are boiling and enveloped in steam ; cakes
with strange names are hot from the oven ; tubs
of big pickled cucumbers or of onions give a sort
of acidity to the atmosphere ; lemons and oranges
abound ; and altogether the scene is not only such
as can only be seen in London, but only such as
can be seen in this one part of the metropolis.

When I treat of the street-Jews, I shall have
information highly curious t') communicate, and
when I come to the fifth division of my present
subject, I shall more particularly describe Petticoat-
lane, as the head-quarters of the second-hand
clothes business.

I have here alluded to the character of this
quarter as being one much resorted to formerly,
and still largely used by the sellers of second-
hand metal goods. Here I was informed that a
strong-built man, known as Jack, or (appropriately
enough) as Iron Jack, had, until his death six or
seven years ago, one of the best-stocked barrows
in London. This, in spite of remonstrances, and
by a powerful exercise of his strength, the man
htted, as it were, on to the narrow foot-path,
and every passer-by had his attention directed
almost perforce to the contents of the barrow, for
he must make a " detour'* to advance on his way.
One of this man's fiiyourite pitches was close to
the lofty walls of what, before the change in their
charter, was one of the East India Company's
vast warehouses. The contrast to any one who
indulged a thought on the subject — and there is
great food for thought in Petticoat-lane — was
striking enough. Here towered the store-house
of costly teas, and silks, and spices, and indigo ;
I while at its foot was carried on the most minute,
I and apparently worthless of all street-trades, rusty
I screws and nails, such as only few would care to
pick up in the street, being objects of earnest
bargaining !

An experienced man in the business, who
thought he was " turned 50, or somewhere about
that," gave me tha following account of his trade,
his customers, &c.

" I 've been in most street-trades," he said, " and

I was bom to it, like, for my mother was a rag-

I gatherer — ^not a bad business once— and I helped

her. I never saw my father, but he waa a aoldier,

and it 'a supposed lost his life in foreign parts.

No, I don't remember ever having heard what

I foreign parts, and it don*t matter. Well, perhaps,

I this IS about as tidy a trade for a bit of bread as

I any that *s goix^ now. Perhaps selling fish may

be better, but that 's to a nuui what knows fish

welL I can't aay I ever did. I 'm more a dab

at cooking it (with a laugh). I like a bloater best

on what *ii an Irish gridiron. Do you know what
that is, sir 1 I know, though I 'm not Irish, but
I married an Irish wife, and as good a woman as
ever was a wife. It 's done on the tongs, sir, laid
across the fire, and the bloater 's laid acrou the
tongs. Some says it's best turned and turned
very quick on the coals themselves, but the tongs
is best, for you can raise or lower." [My infor-
mant seemed interested in his account of this and
other modes of cookery, which I need not detail.]
" This is really a very trying trade. 0, I mean
it tries a man's patience so. Why, it was in
Easter week a man dressed like a gentleman — but
I don't think he was a real gentleman — looked
out some bolts, and a hammer head, and other
things, odds and ends, and they came to \0\d.
He said he 'd give 6dL ' Sixpence ! ' says I ; ' why
d* you think I stole 'em 1 ' ' Well,' aaya he, * if
I didn't think you 'd atole 'em, I shouldn't have
come to ^tt.' I don't think he was joking.
Well, sir, we got to high words, and I said, ' Then
I 'm d— -d if you have them for less than Is.'
And a bit of a crowd began to gather, they was
most boys, but the p'liceman came up, as slow as
you please, and so my friend flings down \s,, and
puts the things in his pocket and marches off,
with a few boys to keep him company. That 's
the way one's temper 's tried. Well, it 's hard to
say what sells best. A latch-lock and keys goes
off quick. I 've had them from 2d, to Qd, ; but
it 's only the lower-priced things as sells now in
any trade. Bolts is a fairish stock, and so is all
sorts of tools. Well, not saws so much as such
things as screwdrivers, or hammers, or choppers,
or tools that if they 're rusty people can clean up
theirselves. Saws ain't so easy to manage ; bed-
keys is good. No, I don't clean the metal up
unless it 's very bad ; I think things don't sell so
well that way. People 's jealous that they 're
just done up on purpose to deceive, though they
may cost only 1^. or 2.d. There 's that cheese-
cutter now, it's getting rustier and there'll be
very likely a better chance to sell it. This is how
it is, sir, 1 know. You see if a man 's going to
buy old metal, and he 9%^ it all rough and rus^,
he says to himself, ' Well, there 'a no gammon
about it; I can juat see what it is.' Then folka
like to clean up a thing theiraelves, and it 'a as if
it waa aomething made from their own clevemeu.
That waa just my feeling, sir, when I bought old
metala for my own use, before I waa in the trade,
and I goea by that. O, working people 'a by far
my best customers. Many of 'em 'a very fond of
jobbing about their rooms or their houses, and they
come to such as me. Then a many has fancies
for pig^'ons, or rabbits, or poultry, or dogs, and
they mostly make up the places for them their-
selves, and as money 's an object, why them sort
of fiincy people buys hingea^ and locks, and icrews,
and hammers, and what they want of me. A
clever mechanic can turn his hand to most things
that he wants for his own use. I know a shoe-
maker that makes beautiful rabbit-hutches and
sella them along with hia prize cattle, aa I calla
hia great big long-eared rabbita. Perhapa I take
2s. 6<f. or 8f. a day, and it 'a about half profit

12

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

Yes, this time of the year I make good 10«. 6cf.
a week, but in winter not 1«. a day. That
would bo very poor pickings for two people
to live on, and I can't do without my drop
of beer, but my wife has constant work with
a first-rate laundress at Mile End, and so we rub
on, for we *ve no family living."

This informant told roe further of the way in
which the old metal stocks sold in the streets
were provided ; but that branch of the subject
relates to street-buying. Some of the street-sellers,
however, buy their stocks of the shopkeepers.

I find a difficulty in estimating the number of
the second-hand metal-ware street-sellers. Many
of the stalls or barrows are the property of the
marine-store shopkeepers, or old metal dealers
(marine stores being about the only things
the marine-store men do not sell), and these
are generally placed near the shop, being
indeed a portion of its contents out of dooiis.
Some of the marine-store men (a class of traders,
by the by, not superior to street-sellers, making
no "odious'' comparison as to the honesty of
the two), when they have purchased largely — the
refuse iron for instance alter .i huuse has been
pulled down — establish two or three pitches in the
street, confiding the stalls or barrows to their
wives and children. I was told by several in the
trade that there were 200 old metal sellers in the
streets, but from the best infonuation at my com-
mand not more than 50 appear to be strictly
«<re«^sellers, unconnected with shop-keeping.
Estimating a weekly receipt, per individual, of
15*. (half being profit), the yearly street outlay
among this body alone amounts to 1950/.

Of the Stbbkt-Sbllxrs of Second-Hand

Metal Trats, &c.

There are still some few portions of the old

metal trade in the streets which require specific

mention.

Among these is the sale of second-hand trays,
occasionally with such things as bread-baskets.
Instead of these wares, however, being matters of
daily traffic, they are offered in the streets only at
intervals, and generally on the Saturday and
Monday evenings, while a few are hawked to
public-houses. An Irishman, a rather melancholy
looking man, but possessed of some humour, gave
me the following account. His dress was a worn
suit, such as masons work in ; but I have seldom
seen so coarse, and never on an Irishman of his
class, except on a Sunday, so clean a shirt, and he
made as free a display of it as if it were the
choicest cambric. He washed it, he told me, with
his own hands, as he had neither wife, nor mo-
ther, nor sister. "I was a cow-keeper's man,
your honour," he said, "and he sent milk to
Dublin. I thought I might do betthur, and I got
to Liverpool, and walked here. Have I done
betthur, is it 1 Sorry a betthur. Would I like
to returren to Dublin 1 Well, perhaps, plaze God,
I '11 do betthur here yit. I 've sonld a power of
diflferent things in the sthreets, but I 'm off for
counthry work now. I have a few therrays left
if your honour wants such a thing. I first sould

a few for a man I lodged alonv wid in Kent-street,
when he was sick, and so I got to know the
therrade. He tould me to say, and it 's the
therruth, if anybody said, ' They're only second-
hand,' that they was all the betthur for that, for
if they hadn't been real good therrays at first,
they would niver have lived to be second-hand ones.
I calls the bigghur therrays butlers, and the
smhailer, waithers. It's a poor therrade. One
woman '11 say, ' Pooh I ould-fashioned things.'
' Will, thin, ma'am,' I '11 say, ' a good thing like |
this is niver ould-fashioned, no more than the j
bhutiful mate and berrid, and the bhutiful new I
praties a coming in, that you '11 be atin off of it,
and thratin' your husband to, Qod save him. No
lady iver goes to supper widout her therray.'
Yes, indeed, thin, and it is a poor therrade. It 's
the bhutiful therrays I 've sould for 6c2. I buys
them of a shop which dales in sich things. The
perrofit 1 Sorry a perrofit is there in it at all at
all ; but I thries to make id. out of 1«. If I
makes ^d. of a night it's good worruk."

These trays are usually carried under the arm,
and are sometimes piled on a stool or small
stanil, in a street market. The prices are from
2d. to 10<2., sometimes Is. The stronger descrip-
tions ate sold to street-sellers to display their
goods upon, as much as to any other class. Wo-
men and children occasionally sell them, but it
is one of the callings which seems to be disap-
pearing from the streets. From two men, who
were familiar with this and other second-hand
trades, I heard the following reasons assigned for
the decadence. One man thought it was owing to
"swag-trays" being got up so common and so
cheap, but to look " stunning well,", at least as
long as the shininess lasted. The other contended
that poor working people had enough to do now-
a-days to get something to cat, without thinking
of a tray to put it on.

If 20 persons, and that I am told is about the
number of sellers, take in tlie one or two nights'
sale is. a week each, on second-hand trays (38 per
cent, being the rate of profit), the street ex-
penditure is 208/. in a year.

In other second-hand metal articles there is
now and then a separate trade. Two or three
sets of tmo\\ Jirt'irons may be offered in a street-
market on a Saturday night ; or a small stock of
fiat and Italian irons for the laundresses, who
work cheap and must buy second-hand; or a
collection of tools in the same way ; but these are
accidental sales, and are but ramiBcations from the
general " old metal " trade that I have .described,
rerhaps, in the sale of these second-hand articles,
20 people may be regularly employed, and 300/.
yearly may be taken.

In Fetticoat-hne, Rosemary-lane, Whitecross-
street, Ratcliff-highway, and in the street-markets
generally, are to be seen men, women, and
children selling dinner knives and forts, razors,
focket'knivis, and scissors. The pocket-knives
and scissors are kept well oiled, so that the wea-
ther does not rust them. These goods have been
mostly repaired, ground, and polished for street-
commerce. The women and children selling these

LOyDOy LABOUR A.VD THE LONDON POOR.

13

articles are the wives and families of the men i
who repair, grind, and polish them, and who
belong, correctlj speaking, to the c1a<s of street-
artixans, under which head they will be more
particularly treated of. It is the came also with
the street*vendors of second-hand tin saucepans
and other vessels (a tffide, by the way, which is
rapidly decreasing), for these are generally made
of the old drums of machines retinned, or are old
saucepans and pots mended for use by the vendors,
who are mostly working tinmen, and appertain
to the artizan class.

Of the Strest-Ssllbss of Second-Hakd

LiBEN, &C.

I Kow come to the second variety of the several
kinds of street-sellers of second-hand articles.
The accounts of the street- trade in second-hand
linens, however, need be but brief; for none of
the callings I have now to notice supply a mode of
subsistence to the street-sellers independently of
other pursuits. They are resorted to whenever
an opportunity or a prospect of remuneration
presents itself by the class of general street-sellers,
women as well as men — the women being the
most numerous. The sale of these articles is on
the Saturday and Monday nights, in the street-
markets, and daily in Petticoat and Rosemary
lanes.

One of the most »ileable of all the second-hand
textile commodities of the streets, is an article the
demand for which is certainly creditable to the
poorer and the working-classes of London —
to-fdi. The principal supply of this street-towel-
ling is obtained from the several barracks in and
near London. They are a portion of what were
the sheets (of strong linen) of the soldiers' beds,
which are periodically renewed, nnd the old sheet-
ing is then sold to a contractor, of whom the
street-folk buy it, and wash and prepare it for
u'arket. It is sold to the street- traders at 4rf. per
pound, 1 lb. making eight penny towels ; some (in-
ferior) is as low as 2d. The principal demand is
by the working-cUsses.

'""Why, for one time, sir,'* said a street-seller
to me, " there wasn't much towelling in the
streets, and I got a tidy lot, just when I knew
it would go off, like a thief ruund a corner. I
pitched in Whilecross-strect, and not far from a
woman that was making a great noise, and had a
good lot of people about her, for cheap mackarel
weren't so very plenty then as they are now.

* Here's your cheap mack'rel,' shouu she, * cheap,
cheap, cheap mac-mac-mac-»i«cifc'rel. Then / be-
gins : * Here 's your cheap towelling ; chejip, cheap,
cheap, tow- tow-tow-<o«H»llings. Here's towels a
penny a piece, and two for twopence, or a double
fitmily towel for twopence.' I soon had a greater
crowd than she had. 0, yes ! I gives 'era a go. d
history of what I has to sell ; patters, as you call
it; a roan that can't isn't fit for the streets.

* Here 'a what every wife should buy for her hus-
bind, and every husband for his wife,' I goes on.

* Donifstic happiness is then secured. If a hus-
band licks his wife, or a wife licks her husband, a
towel is the handiest and most innocent thing it

can bo done with, and if it's wet it gives you a
strong clipper on the cheek, as every respectable
married person knows as well as I do. A clipper
that way always docs me good, and I 'm satisfied
it does more good to a, gentleman than a lady.'
Always patter for the women, sir, if you wants to
sell. Tes, towels is good sale in London, but I
prefer country business. I 'm three times as much
in the country ns in town, and I *m just off to
Ascot to sell cards, and do a little singing, and
then I 'il perhaps take a round to Bath and Bris-
tol, bnt Bath 's not what it was once."

Another street-seller told me that, as far as his
experience went, Monday night was a better time
for the sale of second-hand sheetings, &c., than
Saturday, as on Monday the wives of the working-
clasKCS who sought to buy cheaply what was
needed for household use, usually went out to
make their purchases. The Saturday-night's mart
is more one for immediate necessities, either for the
Sunday's dinner or the Sunday's wear. It appears
to me that in all these little distinctions — of which
street-folk tell yon, quite unconscious that they
tell anything new — there is something of the his-
tory of the character of a people.

" Wrappers," or " bale stuff," as it is sometimes
styled, arc also sold in the streets as secondhand
goods. These are what have formed the covers of
the packoges of manufactures, and are bought
(most frequently by the Jews) at the wholesale
warehouses or the larger retail shops, and re-sold
to the street-people, usually at \\d, and 2d, per
pound. These goods are sometimes sold entire,
but are far more often cut into suitable sizes for
towels, strong aprons, &c. They soon get
" bleached," I wns told, by washing and wear.

" Din-nC linen or calico is also sold in the
streets as a second-hand article. On the occasion
of a fire at any tradesman's, whose stock of drapery
had been injured, the damaged wares are bought
by the Jewish nr other keepers of the haberdashery
8wag-«hops. Some of these are sold by the second-
hand street dealers, but the traffic for such articles
is greater among the hawkers. Of this I have
already given an account The street-sale of these
burnt (and sometimes dctifpiedly burnt) wares is
in pieces, generally from 6(/. to Is. 6c?. each, or in
yards, frequently at Qd. per yard, but of course
the price varies with the qiwlity.

I believe that no tecond-liand sheets are sold in
the streets as sheets, for when tolerably good they
are received at the pawn-shops, and if indifferent,
at the dolly-shops, or illegal pawn-shops. Street
folk have told me of sheets being sold in the street-
markets, but so rarely as merely to supply an
exception. In Petticoat-lane, indeed, they are
sold, but it is mostly by the Jew shopkeepers,
who also expose their goods in the streets, and they
are sold by them very often to street-traders, who
convert them into other purposes.

The statistics of this trade present great difll-
cnlties. The second-hand linen, &c., is not a
regular street tntflic. It may be offered to the

fublic 20 days or nights in a month, or not one.
fa •'job-lot" have been secured, the second-hand
street-seller may confine himself to that especial

14

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

stock. If his means compel him to offer onlj a
paucity of second-hand good% he may sell but one
kind. Generally, however, the same man or
woman trades in two, three, or more of the second-
hand textile productions which I have specified,
and it is hardly one street-seller out of 20, who if
he have cleared his 10«. in a given time, by vend-
ing different articles, cnn tell the relative amount he
cleared on each. The trade is, therefore, irregular,
and is but a consequence, or — as one street-seller
very well expressed it — ^a " tail " of other trades.
For instance, if there has been a great auction of
any corn-merchant's effects, there wUl be more sack-
ing than usual in the street-markets ; if there have
been sales, beyond the average extent, of old
household furniture, there will be a more ample
street stock of curtains, carpeting, fringes, &c. Of
the articles I have enumerated the sale of second-
hand linen, more especially that from the barrack-
stores, is the largest of any.

The most intelligent man whom I met with in
this trade calculated that there were 80 of these
second-hand street-folk plying their trade two
nights in the week ; that they took 8«. each
weekly, about half of it being profit ; thus the
•treet expenditure would be 1664/. per annum.

Of thb Strbet-Ssllvrs ov SB002a>-nAN]>
Curtains.
Sboovd-Hakd Curtains, but only good ones, I
was assured, can now be sold in the streets.
" because common new ones can be had so cheap."
The " good second-hands," however, sell readily.
The most saleable of all second-hand curtains are
those of chints, especially old-fashioned chintz,
now a scarce article ; the next in demand are
what were described to me as " good check," or
the blue and white cotton curtains. White dimity
curtains, though now rarely seen in a street-
market, are not bought to be re-used as curtains
•— '* there 's too much washing about them for
London" — but for petticoats, the covering of large
pincushions, dressing-table covers, &c., and for the
last-mentioned purpose they are bought by the
householders of a small tenement who let a "well-
furnished " bed-room or two.

The uses to which the second-hand chintz or
check curtains are put, are often for "Waterloo"
or "tent" beds. It is common for a single
woman, struggling to " get a decent roof over her
head," or for a young couple wishing to improve
their comforts in furniture, to do so piece-meal.
An old bedstead of a better sort may first be pur-
chased, and so on to the concluding " decency,"
or, in the estimation of some poor persons, " dig-
nity " of curtains. These persons are customers
of the street-sellers — the secondhand curtains
costing them from 8d to 1«. M.

Moreen curtains have also a good sale. They
are bought by working people (and by some of the
dealers in second-hand furniture) for the re-cover-
ing of sofas, which had become ragged, the defi-
ciency of stuffing being supplied with hay (which
is likewise the " stuffing " of the new sofas sold
by the " linen-drapers," or " slaughter-houses."
Horeen curtains, too, are sometimes cut into pieces,

for the re-corering of old horse-hair chairs, for
which purpose they are sold nt Sd. each piece.

ISecond-hand curtains are moreover cut into por-
tions and sold for the hanging of the testers of
bedsteads, but almost entirely for what the street-
sellers call " half-teesters.' These are required
for the Waterloo bedsteads, "and if it's a nice
thing, sir," said one woman, "and perticler if it's
a chintz, and to be had for 6c/., the women '11
fight for it."

The second-hand curtains, when sold entire, arc
from M. to 2s. 6d. One man had lately sold a
pair of "good moreens, only faded, but dyeing 's
cheap," for 3«. 6d.

Of thb Stbbet-Sellebs op Second-hakd Car^

PETINQ, FlANNBLS, StOCKIBO-LBOS, &C., &C.

I CLASS these second-hand wares together, as they
are all of woollen materials.

Carpeting has a fair sale, and in the streets is
vended not as an entire floor or stair-carpet, but in
pieces. The floor-carpet pieces are from 2d. to
Is. each ; the stair-carpet pieces are from Id. to
id. a yard. Hearth-rugs are very rarely offered
to street-customers, but when offered are sold from
id. to Is. Drugget is alco sold in the same way
as the floor-carpeting, and sometimes for house-
scouring cloths.

" I 've sold carpet, sir," said a woman street-
seller, who called all descriptions — rugs and
drugget too — by that title ; " and I would like to
sell it regular, but my old man — he buys every-
thing— says it can't be had regular. I've sold
many things in the streets, but I 'd rather sell good
second-hand in carpet or curtains, or far in winter,
than anything else. They 're nicer people as buys
them. It would be a good business if it was
regular. Ah ! indeed, in my time, and before I
was married, I have sold different things in a
different way ; but I 'd rather not talk about that,
and I make no complaints, for seeing what I see.
I *m not so badly off. Them as buys carpet are
very particular — I 've known them take a tape
out of their pockets and measure— but they're
honourable customers. If they 're satisfied they
buy, most of them does, at once ; without any of
your Ms that the lowest T as ladies asks in shops,
and that when they don't think of buying, either.
Carpet is bought by working people, and they use
it for hearth-rugs, and for bed-sides, and such like.
I know it by what I 've heard them say when I 've
been selling. One Monday evening, five or six
years back, I took 10«. 9d. in carpet; there had
been some great sales at old houses, and a good
quantity of carpet and curtains was sold in the
streets. Perhaps I cleared 3s. 6d. on that IQs. 9d.
hut to take is, or 5s. is good work now, and often
not more than 3d. in the Is. profit. Still, it 's
a pretty good business, when you can get a stock
of second-hands of different kinds to keep you
going constantly."

What in the street-trade is known as "FlannsU"
is for the most part second-hand blankets, which
having been worn as bed furniture, and then very
probably, or at the same time, used for ironing
cloths, are found in the street-markets, where |

I

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOH

15

tiler are pnrclused for flannel petticoats for the
children of the poor, or when not good enough for
fueh ate, for houte cloths, at \d. each.

The trade in itocking legs is considerable. In
these legs the feet hate been cut ofl; further darn-
ing being impossible, and the fragment of the
stocking which is worth preserving is sold to the
careful housewives who attach to it a new foot.
Sometimes for winter wear a new cheap sock is
attached to the footleu hose. These legs sell
from J[</. to Zd. the pair, but very rarelj 3a., and
only when of the best quality, though the legs would
not be saleable in the streets at all, had they not
been of a good manufacture originally. Men's hose
are sold in this way more largely than women's.

The trade in second-hand stockings is very con-
siderable, but they form a part of the second-hand
apparel of street-commerce, and I shall notice
them under that head.

Of the Stseet-Sbllebs op Skcond-hand Bed-

TICKIKO, SaCKIHQ, FkIKOS, &C.

PoK hed-iicking there is generally a ready sale,
but I was told "not near so ready as it was a dozen
year or more back." One reason which I heard
assigned for this was, that new ticking was made
so cheap (being a thin common cotton, for the
lining of common carpet-bags, portmanteaus, &c.,
that poor persons scrupled to give any equivalent
price for good sound second-hand linen bed-tick-
ing, " though," said a dealer, " it *11 still wear out
half a doaen of their new slop rigs. I should
like a few of them there slop-masters, that's
making fortins out of foolish or greedy folks, to
have to live a few weeks jn the streets by this sort
of second-hand trade ; they 'd hear what was
thought of them then by all sensible people, which
aren t so many as they should be by a precious
lonff sight."

The ticking sold in the street is bought for the
patching of beds and for the making of pillows
and bolsters, and for these purposes is sold in
pieces at from 2d, to id. as the most frequent price.
One woman who used to sell bed-ticking, but not
lately, told me that she knew poor women who
' cared nothing fur such convenience themselves,
buy ticking to make pillows for their children.

Seeond'Kand Sacking is sold without much dif-
ficulty in the street-markets, and usually in pieces
at from 2d, to Qd. This sacking has been part of
a com sack, or of the strong package in which
some kinds of goods are dispatched by sea or
rsilway. It is bought for the mending of bed-
stead sacking, and for the making of porters'
knots, &c.

Second-hand Fnnge U still in fair demand, but
though cheaper than ever, does not, I am assured,
"sell so well as when it was dearer." Many of
ny readers will have remarked, when they have
been pasting the apartments occupied by the
working class, that the rainnce fixed from the
tnp of the window hiis its adornment of fringe ; a
blind is sometimes adorned in a similar manner,
and so is the valance from the tester of a bedstead.
For such uses the second-hand fringe is bought in

the street-markets in pieces, sometimes called
" quantities," of from Id. to Is.

Secondhand Tablecloths used to be an article
of street-traffic to some extent. If offered at all
now — and one man, though he was a reguhir
street-seller, thought he had not seen one offered
in a market this year — they are worn things such
as will not be taken by the pawnbrokers, while
the dolly-shop people would advance no more
than the table-cloth might be worth for the rag-
bag. The glazed table-eovertf now in such
general use, are not as yet sold second-hand in the
streets.

I was told by a street-seller that he had heard
an old man (since dead), who was a buyer of
second-hand goods, say that in the old times, after
a great sale by auction — as at Wanstead-house
(Mr. Wcllesley Pole's), about 80 years ago— the
open-air trade was very brisk, as the street-sellers,
like the shop-traders, prochiimed all their second-
hand wares as having been bought at ** the great
sale." For some years no such " rute " has been
practised by street-folk.

Of thk Strebt-Sblleiub or Seooed-Hand
Glass aed Obookbrt.
These sellers are another class who are fast dis-
appearing from the streets of London. Before
glass and crockery, but more especially glass,
became so low-priced when new, the second-hand
glass-man was one of the most prosperous of the
open-air traders ; he is now so much the reverse
that he must generally mix up some other calling
with his original business. One man, whose
address was given to me as an experienced glass-
man, I found selling mackarel and "pound
crabs," and complaining bitterly that mackarel
were high, and that he could make nothing out
of them that week at 2d, each, for poor persons,
he told me, would not give more. " Yes, sir," he
said, *' I 've been in most trades, besides having
been a pot-boy, both boy and man, and I don't
like this fish-trade at all. I could get a pot-boy's
place again, but I 'm not so strong as I were, and
it's slavish work in the place I could get; and a
man that's not so young as he was once is
chaffed so by the young lads and fellows in the
tip-room and the skittle-ground. For this last
three year or more I had to do something in ad-
dition to my glass for a crust. Before I dropped
it as a bad consam, I sold old shoes as well
as old glass, and made both ends meet that way,
a leather end and a glass end. I sold off my
glass to a rag and bottle shop for 9s., far less than
it were worth, and I swopped my shoes for my
fifth-stall, and water-tub, and 3«. in money. I '11
be out of this trade before long. The glass was
good once; I 've made my 15s. and 20«. a week
at it : I don't know how long that is ago, but it's
a good long time. Latterly I could do no busi-
ness at all in it, or hardly any. The old shoes
was middling, because they're a free-selling thing,
but somehow it seems awkward mixing up any
other trade with your glass."

The stall or barrow of a " second-hand glass-
man" presented, and still, in a smaller degree,

16

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

pretenU, a variety of articlet, and a variety of
coloariy but over the whole prevails that haziness
which seems to be considered proper to this trade.
Even in the hirgest rag and bottle shops, the
second-hand bottles always look dingy. "It
wouldn't pay to wash them nil/' said one shop-
keeper to me, ** so we washes none ; indeed, I
b'lieve people would rather buy them as they is,
and clean them themselves."

The strect4usortment of second-hand glass may
be described as one of " odds and ends" — odd
goblets, odd wine-glasses, odd decanters, odd cruet-
bottles, salt-cellars, and mustard-pots ; together
with a variety of " tops*' to fit mustard-pots or
butter-gUsses, and of " stoppers" to fit any sized
bottle, the latter articles being generally the most
profitable. Occasionally may still be seen a blue
spirit-decanter, one of aset of three, with "brandy,"
in fiuled gold letters, upon it, or a brass or plated
label, as dingy as the bottle, hung by a fine wire-
chain round the neck. Blue finger-ghisses sold
yery well for use as sugar-basins to the wives of
the better-off working-people or small tradesmen.
One man, apparently about 40, who had been in
this trade in his youth, and whom I questioned as
to what was the quality of his stock, told me of
the demand for ** blue sugars," and pointed out to
me one which happened to be on a stand by the
door of a ragand bottle shop. When I mentioned its
original use, he asked further about it, and after my
answers seemed sceptical on the subject. " People
that 's quality," he said, " that 's my notion on it,
that hasn't neither to yam their dinner, nor to
cook it, but just open their mouths and eat it, can't
dirty their hands so at dinner as to have glasses to
wash 'em in arterards. But there 's queer ways
everywhere."

At one time what were called *' doctors' bottles"
formed a portion of the second-hand stock I am
describing. These were phials bought by the poorer
people, in which to obtain some physician's gratui-
tous prescription from the chemist's shop, or the time-
honoured nostrum of some wonderful old woman.
For a very long period, it must be borne in mind,
all kinds of gloss wares were dear. Small glass
frames, to cover flower-roots, were also sold
at these stalls, as were fragments of looking-glass.
Beneath his stall or barrow, the " old glass-man "
often had a few old wine or beer-bottles for sale.

At the period before cast-glass was so common,
and, indeed, subsequently, until glass became
cheap, it was not unusual to see at the second-
hand stalls, rich cut-glass vessels which bad been
broken and cemented, for sale at a low figure, the
glass-man being often a mender. It was the same
with China punch-bowls, and the costlier kind of
dishes, but this part of the trade is now unknown.

There is one curious sort of ornament still to be
met with at these stalls — wide-mouthed bottles,
embellished with coloured patterns of flowers,
birds, &c., generally cut from *' furniture prints,"
and kept close against the sides of the interior by
the salt with which the bottles are filled. A
few second-hand pitchers, tea poU, &c., are still
sold at from \d. to 6e2.

There are now not above six men (of the ordi-

nary street selling class) who carry on this trade
regularly. Sometimes twelve stalls or barrows
may be seen; sometimes one, and sometimes none.
Calculating that each of the six dealers takes 12«.
weekly, with a profit of 6«. or 7«., we find 187/. it.
expended in this department of street-commerce.
The principal place for the trade is in Iligh-street,
WhitechapeL

Of tue Street- Ssllers of SEcoKi>-HAin>

MiSOELLAKSOUS ARTICLES.

I HATE in a former page sp(>cified some of the
goods which make up the sum of the second-hand
miscellaneous commerce of the streets of London.

I may premise that the trader of this class is a
sort of street broker; and it is no more possible
minutely to detail his especial traffic in the several
articles of his stock, than it would be to give a spe-
cific account of each and several of the " sundries"
to be found in the closets or corners of an old-furni-
ttirc broker's or marine-store seller's premises, in
describing his general business.

The members of this trade (as will be shown in
the subsequent statements) are also " miKella-
neous" in their character. A few have known
liberal educations, and have been established in
liberal professions ; others have been artisans or
shopkeepers, but the mass are of the general class
of street-sellers.

I will first treat of the Second- JIand Street-
Sellers of Articles for Amtisement, giving a wide
interpretation to the word "amusement."

The backgammon, chess, draught, and cribbage-
boards of the second-hand trade have originally
been of good quality — some indeed of a very
superior manufacture ; otherwise tlie " cheap
Germans " (as I heard the low-priced foreign goods
from the swag-shops called) would by their supe-
rior cheapness have rendered the business a nullity.
The backgammon-boards are bought of brokers,
when they are often in a worn, unhinged, and
what may be called ragged condition. The
street-seller " trims them up," but in this there
is nothing of artisanship, although it requires
some little taste and some dexterity of finger. A
new hinge or two, or old hinges re-screwed, and a
little pasting of leather and sometimes the applica-
tion of strips of bookbinder's gold, is all that is
required. The backgammon- boards are some-
times offered in the streets by an itinerant ; some-
times (and more frequwuly than otherwise in a
deplorable state, the points of the table being
hardly distinguishable) they are part of the furni-
ture of a second-hand stall. I have seen one at
an old book-stall, but most usually they are
vended by being hawked to the better sort of
public-houses, and there they are more frequently
disposed of by raffle than by sale. It is not oi.ce
in a thousand times, I am informed, that second-
hand " men " are sold with the board. Before the
board has gone through its series of hands to the
street-seller, the men have been lost or scattered.
New men are sometimes sold or rafiied with the
backgammon-boards (as with the draught) at from
Gd. to 2s, 6d. the set, the best being of box-wood.

Cheas-boards and men — for without the men of

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOJL

17

course a draught, or the top of a backgammon-
board luffices for chess — are a commodity
DOW rarely at the disposal of the stree^selIer8 ;
and, aa these means of a leisurely and abstruse
amusement are not of a ready sale, the second-
band dealers do not "look out" for them, but
merely speculate in them when the article " falls
in their way" and seems a palpable bargain.
Occasionally, a second-hand chess apparatus is
still sold by the street folk. One man — upon
whose Teracity I have erery reason to rely — told
me that he once sold a beautiful set of ivory men
and a handsome "leather board" (second- band)
to a gentleman who accosted him as he saw him
carry them along the street for sale, inviting him
to step in doors, when the gentleman's residence
was reached. The chess-men were then arranged
and examined, and the seller asked 3/. B*. for
them, at once closing with the offer of 3/. ; " for
I found, sir," he said, " I had a gentleman to do
with, for he told me he thought they were really
cheap at 8/., and he would give me that." Another
dealer in second-hand articles, when I asked him
if he had ever sold chess-boards and men, replied,
" Only twice, sir, and then at is, and 6s. the set ;
they was poor. I 've seen chess played, and I
should say it 's a mm game ; but I kuow nothing
about it. I once had a old gent for a customer,
and he was as nice and quiet a old gent as could
be, and I always called on him when I thought I
bad a cnrus old tea-caddy, or knife-box, or any-
thing that way. He didn't buy once in twenty
calls, but he always gave me something for my
trouble. He used to play at chess with another
old gent, and if, after his servant had told him
I 'd come, I waited 'til I could wait no longer,
and then knocked at his room door, he swore like
a trooper.

Draught-boards are sold at from Zd, to Is.
second-hand. Cribbage-boards, also second-hand,
and sometimes with cards, are only sold, I am in-
formed, when they are very bad, at from Id. to
Zd., or Tery good, at from 2s. 6d. to 55. One
street-seller told me that he once sold a " Chinee"
cribbage-board for ISs., which cost him 10^. " It
was a most beautiful thing," he stated, " and was
very high-worked, and was inlaid vnth ivory, and
with green ivory too."

The Dice required for the playing of backgam-
mon, or for any purpose, are bought of the waiters
at the dnb-bouses, generally at 21. the dozen sets.
They are retailed at about 25 per cent, profit.
Dice in this way are readily disposed of by the
street-people, as they are looked upon ns " true,"
and are only about a sixth of the price they could
be obtained for new ones in the duly-stamped
corers. A few dice are sold at 6<L to Is. the
set, but they are old and battered.

There are but two men who support themselves
wholly by the street-sale and the hawking of the
diflbrent boards, &c., I have described. There
are two, three, or sometimes four occasional par-
ticipants in the trade. Of these one held a com-
mission in Her Majesty's service, but was ruined
by gaming, and when unable to live by any other
means, be tells the implements with which he had

been but too £uuiliar. " He lost everything in
Jermyn-strect," a man who was sometimes his
comrade in the sale of these articles &aid to me,
** but he is a very gentlemanly and respectable
man."

The profits in this trade are very uncertain. A
man who was engaged in it told me that one
week he had cleared 21., and the next, with greater
pains-taking, did not sell a single thing.

The other articles which are a portion of the
second-hand miscellaneous trade of this nature are
sold as often, or more often, at stalls than else-
where. Dominoes, for instance, may be seen in
the winter, and they are offered only in the
winter, on perhaps 20 stalls. They are sold
at from id. a set, and I heard of one superior set
which were described to me as " brass-pinned,"
being sold in a handsome box for 5s., the shop
price having been 15s. The great sale of dominoes
is at Christmas.

Pope- Joan boards, which, I was told, were
fifteen years ago sold readily in the streets, and
were examined closely by the purchasers (who
were mostly the wives of tradesmen), to see that
the print or paint announcing the partitions for
" intrigue," " matrimony," " friendship," " Pope,"
&c., were perfect, are now never, or rarely, seen.
Formerly the price was Is. to Is. 9d. In the
present year I could hear of but one man who
had even offered a Pope-board for sale in the
street, and he sold it, though almost new,
for M.

•' Fish," or the bone, ivory, or mother-o'-pearl
cord counters in the shape of fish, or sometimes
in a circular form, used to be sold second-hand as
freely as the Pope-boards, and are now as rarely to
be seen.

Until about 20 years ago, as well as I can fix
upon a term from the information I received, the
apparatus for a game known as the " Devil among
the tailors " w:is a portion of the miscelhmeous
second-hand trade or hawking of the streets. In
it a top was set spinning on a long board, and
the result depended upon the number of men, or
"tailors," knocked down by the "devil" (top)
of each player, these tailors being stationed,
numbered, and scored (when knockeid down) in
the same way as when the balls are propelled into
the numbered sockets in a bagatelle-board. I am
moreover told that in the same second-hand calling
were boards known as " solitaire-boords." These
were round boards, with a certain number of
holes, in each of which was a peg. One peg was
removed at the selection of the player, and the
game consisted in taking each remaining peg, by
advancing another over its head into any vacant
hule, and if at the end of the game only one peg
remained in the board, the pkyer won ; if winning
it could be called when the game could only be
played by one person, and was for "solitary"
amusement. Chinese puzzles, sometimes on a large
scale, were then also a part of the second-hand
traffic of the streets. These are a series of thin
woods in geometrical shapes, which may be fitted
into certain forms or patterns contained in a book,
or on a sheet These puzzles are sold in the streets

18

LONDON LABOUR AND TUB LONDON POOR.

still, bat in imaller quantity and diminished size.
Different games played with the teetotum were
also a part of second-hand street-sale, but none of
these bygone pastimes were vended to any
extent.

From the best data I have been able to obtain
it appears that the amount received by the street-
sellers or street-hawkers in the sale of these
second-hand articles of amusement is 10/. weekly,
about half being profit, divided in the proportions
I have intimated, as respects the number of street-
sellers and the periods of sale ; or 520/. expended
yearly.

I should have stated tliat the principal ciu-
tomers of this branch of second-hand traders are
found in the public-houses and at the cigar-shops,
where the goods are carried by street- sellers, who
hawk from place to place.

These dealers also attend the neighbouring, and,
frequently in the summer, the more distant races,
where fur dice and the better quality of their
"boards," &c., they generally find a prompt
market. The sale at the fairs consists only uf the
lowest-priced goods, and in a very scant proportion
compared to the races.

^. Of THB STRIET-SELLraS OF S«COHD-UA»I)

Musical Ikstrumiiits.
Of this trade there are two branches ; the sale of
instruments which are really second-hand, and the
sale of those which are pretendedly so ; in other
words, an honest and a dishonest business. As
in street estimation the whole is a second-hand
calling, I shall so deal with it.

At this season of the year, when fairs are
frequent and the river steamers with their bands
of music run oft and regularly, and out-door music
may be played until late, the calling of the street-
musician is " at its best.'* In the winter he is
not unfrequently starving, especially if he be what
is called "a chance hand," and have not the
privilege of playing in public-houses when the
weather renders it impossible to collect a street
audience. Such persons are often compelled to
part with their instruments, which they offer in
the streets or the public-houses, for the pawn-
brokers have been so often "stuck" (taken in)
with inferior instruments, that it is difficult tu
pledge even a really good violin. With some of |
these musical men it goes hard to part with their .
instruments, as they have their full share of the |
pride of art. Some, however, sell them recklessly ;
and at almost any price, to obtain the means uf \
prolonging a drunken carouse. j

From a man who is now a dealer in second- i
hand musical instruments, and is also a musician, '
I had the following account of his start in the '
second-hand trade, and of his feelings when he <
first hud to part with his fiddle. !

" I was a gentleman's footboy," he said, "when i
I was young, but I was always very fond of music,
and CO was my fath»'r before me. He was a tailor '
in a village in Suffolk and uncd to play the Lnss-
fiddle at church. I hardly know huw or when I
learned to play, but I seemed to grow up to it. i
There was two neighbours used to call at my

father's and practise, and one or oth«r tru alwayi
showing me something, and so I learned to play
very well. Everybody said so. Befon I vai
twelve, I *ve played nearly all night at a dance in
a farm-house. I never played on anything bnt
the violin. Tou must stick to one instrument, or
you 're not up to the mark on any if yoa keep
changing. When I got a place as footboy it vai
in a gentleman's family in the country, and I
never was so happy as when roaster and mistruf
was out dining, and I could phiy to the lervanta
in the kitchen or the servants' hall. Sometimee
they got up a bit of a dance to my violin. If
there was a dance at Christmas at any of the
tenants*, they often got leave for me to go and pUy.
It was very little money I got given, but too
much drink. At bst master said, he hired me to
be his servant and not for a parish fiddler, so I
must drop it. I left him not long after — he got to
cross and snappish. In my next place — no, the
next but one — I was on board wages, in London,
a goodish bit, as the family were travelling, and
I had time on my hands, and used to go and play at
public- houses of a night, just for the amusement
of the company at first, but I soon got to know
otht'r musicians and made a little money. Tes,
indeed, I could have saved money easily then,
but I didn't; I got too fond of a publie-hoiiie
life for that, and was never cosy at home."

I need not very closely pursue this man's eonrse
to the streets, but merely intimate it. He had
several places, remaining in some a year or more,
in others two, three, or six months, but always
unsettled. On leaving his last place he married a
fellow-servant, older than hims«'lf, who had saved
" a goodish bit of money," and they took a bee^
shop in Bermondsey. A "free and easy" (con-
cert), both vocal and instrumental, was held in
the house, the man playing regularly, and the
business went on, not unprosperously, until the
wife died in child-bed, the child surviving. After
this everything went wrong, and at last the man
was " sold up," and was penniless. For three or
four years he lived precariously on what he could
earn as a musician, until about six or seven years
ago, when one bitter winter's night he was with-
out a farthing, and had laboured all day in the vain
endeavour to earn a meal. His son, a boy then of
five, had been sent home to him, and an old woman
with whom he had placed the lad was incessantly
dunning for \2i, due f «r the child's maintenance.
The landlord clamoured for 15«. arrear of rent for
a furnished room, and the hapless musician did
not possess one thinif which he could convert into
money except his hddle. He must leave his room
next day. He had held no intercourse with his
friends in the country since he heard of his father's
death some years before, and was, indeed, resource-
less. After dwelling on tlie many excellences of
his violin, which he had purchased, "a dead bar-
gain," for 3/. 15j»., he said : " Well, sir, I sntdown
by the last bit of coal in the place, and sat a long
time thinking, and di<)n't kn >w w hat to do. Theie
was nothing to hinder me going nut in the morn-
ing, and working the streets with a mate, as I 'd
done before, but then there was little James that

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

19

wai alMphif ihttw in hit bed. He wu Tery deli-
cate then, aad to dng him about aad let him
■laep in lodgiDg-boniee would have killed him, I
knew. Bol then I eonkin't think of parting with
my T ioUa. I fislt I ihottld never again have snch
another. I fidt at if to part with it wae parting with
my last pr<^, for what was I to do 1 I lat a long
time thinking, with my instrument on my knees,
'til — I 'm sure I don't know how to describe it —
I £ilt as if I was drunk, though I hadn't even
tasted bear. So I went out boldly, just as if I
IMS dmnky and with a deal of trouble penuaded
a landlord I knew to lend me 1/. on my instru-
ment, and keep it by him for three months, 'til
I oonld redeem it. I have it now, sir. Next
day I satisfied my two creditors by paying each
hal^ and a week's rent in advance, and I walked
off to a shop in Soho, where I bought a dirty old
instnunent, broken in parts, fur 2ir. 8cf. I was
great part of the day in doing it up, and in the
evening earned Id. by playing solos by Watchom's
door, and the Crown and Cushion, and the Lord
Sodaay, whioh are all in the Westminster-road.
I lodged in Stangate-street. There was a young
man — ha looked like a respectable mechanic — gave
me Id, and said : ' I wonder how you can use
your fingers at all such a freesing night. It seems
a good £idle.' I assure you, sir, I was surprised
myself to find what I could do with my instru-
ment. ' There 's a beershop over the way,' says
the young man, ' step in, and I '11 pay for a pint,
and try my hand at it.' And so it was done, and
I sold him my fiddle for 7r. 6d. No, sir, there
was no take in ; it was worth the money. I 'd
have sold it now that I 've got a connection for
half a guinea. Next day I bought such another
instrument at the same shop for 3«., and sold it
after a while for 6«., having done it up, in course.
This it was that first put it into my head to
start selling second-hand instruments, and so I
began. Now I 'm known as a man to be depended
on, and with my sec(md-hand business, and en-
gsgeroents avery now aad then as a musician, I do
■uddiing."

In this manner is the honest second-hand street-
business in musical instruments carried on. It is
nsually done by hawking. A few, however, are sold
at miscelhweons stalls, but they are generally such
as require repair, and are often without the bow,
&C. The persons carrying on the trade have all,
as iar as I could ascertain, been musicians.

Of the street-sale of musical instruments by
drunken members of the "profession" I need say
little, as it is exceptional, though it is certainly a
branch of the trade, for so numerous is the body
of street-mnsidans, and of so many classes is it
oomposed, that this deMription of second-hand
business is being constantly tmnsacted, and often
to tha profit of the more wary dealers in these
goods. Tha statistics I shall show at the close of
my remarks on this subject.

Of ihb Music "Duffers."
Sbcohd-Hamd Goitarm are vended by the
streetdsellers. The price varies from 7«. 6d. to 15s.
Barpi form no portion of the second-hand business

of the streets. A drum is occasionally, and only
occasionally, sold to a showman, but the chief
second-hand traffic is in violins. Acoordiontt both
new and old, used to sell readily in the streets,
either from stalls or in hawking, " but," said a |
man who had formerly sold them, " they have
been regularly 'duffed' out of the streets, so much
cheap rubbish is made to selL There 's next to
nothing done in them now. If one 's offered to a
man that 's no judge of it, he '11 be sure you want
to cheat him, and perhaps abuse you ; if he be a
judge, of course it 's no go, unless with a really
good article."

Among the purchasers of second-hand musical
instruments are those of the working-classes who
wish to " practise," and the great number of street-
musicians, street-showmen, and the indifferently
paid members of the orchestras of minor (and not
always of minor) theatres. Few of this class
ever buy new instruments. There are sometimes,
I am informed, as many as 50 persons, one-fourth
being women, engaged in this second-hand sale.
Sometimes, as at present, there are not above half
the number. A broker who was engaged in the
traffic estimated — and an intelligent street^eller
agreed in the computation — that, take the year
through, at least 25 individuals were regularly, but
few of them fully, occupied with this traffic, and
that their weekly takings averaged 30<. each, or an
aggregate yearly amount of 190/. The weekly
profits run from IQs. to 15s., and sometimes the
well-known dealers clear 40<. or 50«. a week,
while others do not take 5s. Of this amount
about two-thirds is expended on violins, and one-
tenth of the whole, or nearly a tenth, on " duffing "
instruments sold as second-hand, in which depart-
ment of the business the amount " turned over"
used to be twice, and even thrice as much. The
sellers have nearly all been musicians in some
capacity, the women being the wives or connections
of the men.

What I have called the "dishonest trade" is
known among the street-folk as " music-duffing."
Among the swag-shopkeepers, at one place in
Uoundsditch more especially, are dealers in
" duffing fiddles." These are German-made in-
struments, and are sold to the street-folk at 2s. 6d,
or 3f. each, bow and all. When purchased by the
music-duffers, they are discoloured so as to be
made to look old. A music-duffer, assuming the
way of a man half-drunk, will enter a public-
house or accost any party in the street, saying :
" Here, I must have money, for I won't go home
'til morning, 'til morning, 'til morning, I won't go
home 'til morning, 'til daylight does appear. And
so I may as well sell my old fiddle myself as take
it to a rogue of a broker. Try it anybody, it 's a
fine old tone, equal to any Cremonar. It cost me
two guineas and another fiddle, and a good 'un too,
in exchange, but I may as well be my own broker,
for I must have money any how, and I '11 sell it
for 10s."

Possibly a bargain is struck for 5<. ; for the
duffing violin is perhaps purposely damaged in
loma dight way, so as to appear easily reparable.

Ho. XXVIIL

20

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR,

and anj deficiency in tone may be attributed to
that defocty which wai of coone occaiioned by the
dninkenneti of the poieeitor. Or poatibly the
tone of the in«tniment may not bo bad, bat it
may be made of inch unsound materials, and in
such a slop-war, though looking well to a little-
practised eye, that it will soon fieUl to pieces. One
man told, me that he had often done the music-
duffing, and had sold trash rioUns for 10s., 16s., and
even 20«., " according," he said, " to the thickness
of the buyer's head," but that was ten or twelve
years ago.

It appears that when an impetus was given to
the musical taste of the country by the esublish-
ment of cheap singing schools, or of music classes,
(called at one time *' singing for the million "), or
by the prevalence of cheap concerts, where good
music was heard, this duffing trade flourished,
but now, I am auured, it is not more than a
quarter of what it was. " There *ll always be some-
thing done in it," said the informant I have before
quoted, "as long as you can find young men
Uiat 's conceited about their musical talents, fond
of taking their medicine (drinking). If I've
gone into a public-house room where I 've seen a
young gent that 's bought a duffing fiddle of me,
it don't happen once in twenty times that he com-
plains and blows up about it, and only then,
perhaps, if he happens to be drunkish, when people
don't much mind what 's said, and so it does me no
harm. People 's too proud to confess that they 're
ever ' done ' at any time or in anything. Why,
such gents has pretended, when I 've sold 'em a
duffer, and seen them afterwards, that they've
done 9mI"

Nor is it to violins that this duffing or sham
second-hand trade is confined. At the swag-
shops duffing cornopean*, French horn*, and da-
rionet* are vended to the street^folk. One of
these cornopeans may be bought fur 14s. ; a French
horn for 10«. ; and a clarionet fur 7s. Qd, ; or as a
general rule at one-fourth of the price of a pro-
perly-made instrument sold as reasonably as
possible. These things are also made to look old,
and are disposed of in the same manner as the
duffing violins. The sale, however, is and was
always limited, for " if there be one working
man," I was told, " or a man of any sort not pro-
fessional in music, that tries his wind and his
fingers on a clarionet, there 's a dozen trying their
touch and execution on a violin."

Another way in which the duffing music trade
at one time was made available as a second-hand
business was this : — A band would play before a
pawnbroker's door, and the duffing German brass
instruments might be well-toned enough, the in-
feriority consisting chiefly in the materials, but
which were so polished up as to appear of the best.
Some member of the band would then offer his
brass instrument in pledge, and often obtain an
advance of more than he had paid for it.

One man who had been himself engaged in
what he called this ''artful" business, told me
that when two pawnbrokers, whom he knew,
found that they had been tricked into advancing
15«. on cornopeans, which they could buy new in

Houndsditch for lis., they got him to drop the
tickets of the pledge, which Uiey drew out for the
purpose, in the streets. These were picked up by
some passer-by — and as there is a very common
feeling that there is no harm, or indeed rather a
merit, in cheating a pawnbroker or a tax-gatherer —
the instruments were soon redeemed by the fortu-
nate finder, or the person to whom he had disposed
of his prise. Nor did the roguery end here. The
same man told me that he had, in collusion with a
pawbroker, dropped tickets of (sham) second-hand
musical instruments, which he nad bought new at
a swag-shop for the very purpose, the amount on
the duplicate being double the cost, and as it is
known that the pawnbrokers do not advance the
value of any article, the finders were gulled into
redeeming the pledge, as an advantageous bar*
gain. '* But I 've left off all that do^ng now,
sir," said the man with a sort of a grunt, which
seemed half a sigh and half a laugh ; ** 1 've leh
it off entirely, for I found I was getting into
trouble."

The derivation of the term " duffing " I am un-
able to discover. The Bev. Mr. Dixon says, in
his "Dovecote and Aviary," that the term
" Dufer," applied to pigeons, is a corruption of
Dovehou*e, — but qtury t In the slang dictionaries
a " Dufftr" is explained as '^ a man who hawks
things ;" hence it would be equivalent to Pedlar,
which means strictly beggar — being from the
Dutch BedcUsar, and the German BeUler.

Ov THB Stbut-Sbllbbs Of SBCOII]>-HiJrX>

WXAPOHS.

Thb sale of second-hand pistols, for to that weapon
the street-sellers' or hawkers' trade in arms seems
confined, is larger than might be cursorily ima-
gined.

There must be something seductive about the
possession of a pistol, for I am assured by persons
familiar with the trade, that they have sold them
to men who were ignorant, when first invited to
purchase, how the weapon was loaded or dis-
charged, and seemed half afraid to handle it.
Perhaps the possession imparts a sense of security.

The pistols which are sometimes seen on the
stree^stal!s are almost always old, rusted, or bat-
tered, and are useleu to any one except to those
who can repair and clean them for sale.

There are three men now selling new or second-
hand pistols, I am told, who have been gunmakers.

This trade is carried on almost entirely by
hawking to public-houses. I heard of no one
who depended solely upon it, " but this is the
way," one intelligent man stated to me, " if I am
buying lecond-hand things at a broker's, or in
Petticoat-lane, or anywhere, and there *s a pistol
that seems cheap, I '11 buy it as readily as any-
thing I know, and 1 11 soon sell it at a public-
house, or I '11 get it raffled for. Second-hand pis-
tols sell better than new by such as me. If I was
to offer a new one I should be told it was some
Brummagem slop rubbish. If there's a little
silver-plate let into the wood of the pistol, and a
crest or initials engraved on it — I 've got it done
sometimes — there's a better chance of sale, fiur

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

21

people think it '• been made for somebody of con-
teqnence that wouldn't be fobbed off with an infe-
xior thing. I don*t think I 'to often lold piitola
to woiking-men, but I 're known them join in
laiBee for them, and the winner has often wanted
to sell it back to me, and has sold it to somebody.
It's tradesmen that buy, or gentlefolks, if yon can
get at them. A pistol 's a sort of a plaything with

On my talking with a street-dealer concerning
the street-trade in second-hand pistols, he pro-
dooed a handsome pistol from his pocket. I in-
quired if it was customary for men in his way
of life to carry pistols, and he expressed his
eooTiction that it was, but only when tra-
velling in the country, and in possession of
money or Taluable stock. " I gave only 7«. M.
for this pistol," he said, " and have refused 10«. M,
(or it, for I shall get a better price, as it 's an ex-
cellent article, on some of my rounds in town. I
bought it to take to Ascot races with me, and have
it with me now, but it 's not loaded, for I 'm going
to Monlsey Hurst, where Hampton races are
held. You're not safe if you travel after a great
muster at a race by yourself without a pistol.
Many a poor fellow like me has been robbed, and
the public hear nothing about it, or say it 's all
gammon. At Ascot, sir, I trusted my money to a
booth-keeper I knew, as a few men slept in his
booth, and he put my bit of tin with his own
under his head where he slept, for safe keeping.
There's a little doing in second-hand pistols to
such as me, but we generally sell them again."

Of iecond-kand guns, or other offensive weapons,
there is no street sale. A few " life-preservers,'*
some of gutta percha, are hawked, but they ore
generally new. Bullets and powder are not sold
by the pistol-hawkers, but a mould for the casting
of bullets is frequently sold along with the weapon.

Of these second-hand pistol-sellers there are now,
I am told, more than there were last year. " I
really beUeve," said one man, laughing, but I
heard a similar account from others, " people were
afraid the foreigners coming to the Great Exhibi-
tion had some mischief in their noddles, and so a
pistol was wanted for protection. In my opinion,
a pistol 's just one of the things that people don't
think of buying, 'til it 's shown to them, and then
they 're temptod to have iu"

The principal street*sale, independently of the
hawking to public-houses, is in such places as Bat-
cUile-highway, where the mates and petty officers
of ships are accosted and invited to buy a good
second-hand pistoL The wares thus vended are
goaerally of a well-made sort.

In this traffic, which is known as a "straggling"
trade, poianed by men who are at the same time
ninaing other street^lings, it may be estimated,
1 am assured, that there are 20 men engaged,
each taking as an average 1/. a week. In some
weeks a man may take 5/. ; in the next month he
■ay sell no weapons at all. From 80 to 50 per
eat. is the usual rate of profit, and the yearly
street outlay on these second-hand offensive or de-
frnsive weapons is 1040/.

Ono nan who "did a little in pistols" told me.

" that 25 or 80 years ago, when he was a boy, his
fiuher sometimes cleared 2/. a week in the street-
sale and hawking of second-hand boxing-gloves,
and that he himself had sometimes carried the
' gloves ' in his hand, and pistoU in his pocket for
sale, but that now boxing-gloves were in no de-
mand whatever among street-buyers, and were 'a
complete drug.' He used to sell them at 8f. the
set, which is four gloves."

Of xbb Sibsbt-Skllebs ov Sxookd-hahd
Curiosities.
Sbyb&al of the things known in the street-trade
as " curiosities " can hardly be styled second-hand
with any propriety, but they are so styled in the
streets, and are usually vended by street-merchants
who trade in second-hand wares.

Curiosities are displayed, I cannot say tempt-
ingly (except perhaps to a sanguine antiquarian),
for there is a great dinginess in the display, on
stalls. One man whom I met wheeling his barrow
in High-street, Camden-town, gave me an account
of his trade. He was dirtily rather than meanly
clad, and had a very self-satisfied expression of
face. The principal things on his barrow were
coins, shells, and old buckles, with a pair of the
very high and wooden-heeled shoes, worn in the
earlier part of the last century.

The coins were all of copper, and certainly did
not lack variety. Among them were tokens, but
none very old. There was the head of *' Charles
Marquis Comwallis" looking fierce in a cocked
bat, while on the reverse was Fame with her
trumpet and a wreath, and banners at her feet,
with the superscription : " His fiune resounds
from east to west." There was a head of Welling-
ton with the date 181 1, and the legend of " Yin-
cit amor patriaj." Also " The E. Hon. W. Pitt,
Lord Warden Cinque Ports," looking courtly in a
bag wig, with his hair brushed from his brow into
what the curiosity-seller called a *' topping." This
was announced as a " Cinque Ports token payable
at Dover," and was dated 1794. " Wellingtons,"
said the man, " is cheap ; that one 's only a half-
penny, but here *s one here, sir, as you seem to
imderstand coins, as I hope to get 2d. for, and will
take no less. It's *J. Lackington, 1794/ you
see, and on the back there 's a Fame, and round
her is written — and it 's a good speciment of a coin
— * Halfpemiy of Lackington, Allen & Co.,
cheapest booksellers in the world.' That 's scarcer
and more vallyballer than Wellingtons or Nelsons
either." Of the current coin of the realm, I saw
none older than Charles II., and but one of his
reign, and little legible. Indeed the reverse had
been ground quite smooth, and some one had en-
graved upon it " Charles Dryland Tunbridg." A
small " e " over the ** g " of Tunbridg perfected
the orthography. This, the street-seller said, vras
a " lo%'e-token '* as well as an old coin, and "them
love-tokens was getting scarce." Of foreign and
colonial coins there were perhaps 60. The oldest
I saw was one of Louis XV. of France and Na-
varre, 1774. There was one also of the " Be-
publique Francaise" when Napoleon was First
ConsuL The colon'al coins were more numerous

22

LONDON LABOUR AND THB LONDON POOR.

than the foreign. Thert wai the " One Penny
token" of Lower CamuU; the "one quarter
anna " of the East India Company ; the ** half
•Ufer of the coloniei of Ewequibo and Dema-
rara ; " the " halfpenny token of the province of
Nova Scotia," &c. &c. There were also counter-
feit halfcrowni and bank tokens worn from their
simulated silver to rank copper. The principle
on which this man "priced" his coins, as he
cnlled it, was simple enough. What was the
size of a halfpenny he asked a penny for; the size
of A penny coin was 2<^. ** It 's a difficult trade
is mine, sir/' he said, ** to carry on properly, for
you may be so easily taken in, if yon 're not a
judge of coins and other curiosities."

The shells of this man's stock in trade he called
** conks" and " king conks." He had no *' clamps"
then, he told me, but they sold pretty well ; he
described them as *' two shells together, one fitting
inside the other." He also had sold what he called
" African cowries," which were as " big as a pint
pot," and the smaller cowries, which were ** money
in India, for his £ither was a soldier and had been
there and saw it." The shells are sold from Id.
to2«. 6<^

The old buckles were such as used to be worn
on shoes, but the plate was all worn off, and
" such like curioaities," the man told me, ** got
scarcer and scarcer."

Many of the stalls which are seen in the
streets are the property of adjacent shop or store-
keepers, and there are not now, I am informed,
more than six men who carry on this trade apart
from other commerce. Their average takings are
\tt, weekly each man, about two-thirds being
profit, or 234/. in a year. Some of tlie stands
are in Great Wyld-street, but they are chiefly the
property of the second-hand furniture brokers.

Ov IBB SibSET-SbLLEBS of SEOt^KD-HAKD

TEI4E800PE8 AND Pocket Glasses.
Ie the sale of second-hand teloKopes only one
man is now engaged in any extensive way, except
on mere chance occasions. Fourteen or fifteen
years ago, I was informed, there was a consider-
able street sale in small telescopes at \$. each.
They were made at Birmingham, my informant
believed, but were sold as second-hand goods in
London. Of this trade there is now no remains.

The principal, seller of second-hand telescopes
takes a stand on Tower Hill or by the Coal
Exchange, and his customers, as he sells excellent
** glasses," are mostly sea-faring men. He has sold,
and still sells, telescopes from 2/. 10s. to 6/. each,
the purchasers generally ** trying " them, with
strict examination, from Tower Hill, or on the
Gustom-House Quay. There are, in addition to
this street-seller, six and sometimes eight others,
who offer telescopes to persons about the docks or
wharfs, who may be going some voyage. These
are as often new as second-hand, but the second-
hand articles are preferred. This, however, is
a Jewish trade which will be treated of under
another head.

An old opera-glass, or the smaller articles best
known as " pocket^lasses," are occasionally

hawked to public-houses and offered in the straatt,
but so little is done in thera that I can obtain
no statistics. A spectacle seller told me that ha
had once tried to sell two second-hand oper»-
gUsses at 2s. 6(2. each, in the street, and then in
the public-houses, but was laughed at by tha
people who were usually his customers. " Opera-
glasses 1 " they said, " why, what did they want
with opera-glasses 1 wait until they had opera-
boxes." He sold the glasses at last to a shop-
keeper.

Or ZBE StBBET-SeLLSBS of other KlBOlL-

LAESous Segond-Hahd Abtiolbs.
The other seoond-hand articles sold in the atr»ett
I will give under one head, specifying the diffiirent
characteristics of the trade, when any striking
peculiarities exist To give a detail of the whole
trade, or rather of the several kinds of articles in
the whole trade, is impossible. I shall therefore
select only such as are sold the more extensively,
or present any novel or curious features of seoond-
hand street-commerce.

Writing-de9k9f tea-caddiMf dressinp-eoie*, and
knift-boxes used to be a ready sale, I was in-
formed, when ** good seoond-hand ;" but they are
"got up" now so cheaply by the poor foncy cal^net-
makers who work for the ** slaughterers," or furni-
ture warehouses, and for some of the general-
dealing swag-shops, that the sale of anything
second-hand is greatly diminished. In fiict I was
told that OS regards second-band writing-desks and
dressing-cases, it might be said there was <<no
trade at all now." A few, however, are still to
be seen at miscellaneous stalls, and are occasion-
ally, .but very rarely, oflfered at, a public-house
"used" by artisans who may be considered
"judges" of work. The tea-caddies are the things
which are in best demand. " Working people buy
them," I was informed, and "working people's
wives. When women are the customers they look
closely at the lock and key, as they keep 'ny
uncle's cards' there" (pawnbroker's duplicates).

One man had lately sold second-hand tea-
caddies at 9d., Is., and Is. M. each, and cleared
2s. in a day when he had stock and devoted his
time to this sale. He could not persevere in it if
he wished, he told me, as he might lose a day in
looking out for the caddies ; he might go to fifty
brokers and not find one caddy cheap enough for
his purpose.

Jit'HsUs are sold second-hand in considerable
quantities in the streets, and are usually vended
at stalls. Shoe-brushes are in the best demand,
and are generally sold, when in good condition, at
Is. the set, the cost to the street-seller being 8(/.
They are bought, I was told, by the people who
clean their own shoes, or have to dean other
people's. Olothes' brushes ore not sold to any
extent, as the " hard brush" of the shoe set is used
by working people for a clothes' brush. Of late,
I am told, second-hand brushes have sold more
fireely than ever. They were hardly to be had
just when wanted, in a sufficient quantity, for the
demand by persons going to Epsom and Ascot
races, who carry a brush of little value with them.

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOIL

to broih tlie doit gathered cm the road from their
ooati. The cotter-girii hay very hard bruihes,
indeed mere ftumpe, with which they broth
mdiahei ; theee bmaheft are Tended at the itreet-
ftallsatlif. each.

In Shsftd Birda for the embeUiahment of the
walls of a room, there is still a small second-hand
street sale, bat none now in images or chimney-piece
ornaments. "Why/' said one dealer, " I can now
bay new 6gures for 9d., sach as not many years
ago cost 7s., so what chance of a second-hand
sale IS there 1" The staffed birds which sell the
best are starlings. They are all sold as second-
band, bat are often " made up" for street-traffic ;
an old bird or two, I was told, in a new case, or a
new bird in an old case. Last Saturday erening
one man told me he had sold two " long cases" of
starlings and small birds for 2s. M. each. There
are no stofied parrots or foreign birds in this sale,
and no pheasants or other game, except sometimes
wretched old things which are sold because they
havpen to be in a case.

The street-trade in second-hand LaaU is confined
principally to Petticoat and Bosemary lanes, where
they are bought by the "garret-masters" in
the shoemaking trade who supply the large whole-
sale warehouses ; that is to say, by small masters
who find their own materials and sell the boots
and shoes by the dozen pairs. The lasts are
bought also by mechanics, street-sellers, and other
poor persons who cobble their own shoes. A
shoenmker told me that he occasionally bought
a last at a street stall, or rather from street
hampers in Petticoat and Bosemary huies, and it
•eanied to him that second-hand stores of street
lasts got neither bigger nor smaller : *' I suppose
it's this way," he reasoned; "the sarret-master
buys bsts to do the slop-snobbing cheap, mostly
women's lasts, and he dies or is done up and goes
to the "great house," and his lasts find their way
baek to the streets. Tou notice, sir, the first time
yon Ye in Bosemary-lane, how little a great many
of the lasts have been used, and that shows what
a terrible necessity there was to part with them.
In some there's hardly any peg-marks at all."
The ksts are sold itom \d. to M. each, or twice
that amount in pairs, "rights and lefts," accord-
ing to the sife and the condition. There are about
SO street hist-eellers in the second-hand trade of
London — "at least 20," one man said, after he
seemed to hare been making a mental oUculation
on the subject.

Seeondrhaikd karnets is sold largely, and when
good is sold very readily. There is* I am told,
ht less slop-work in harness-making than in shoe-
making or in the other trades, such as tailoring,
and "inany a lady's pony harness," it was said to
me by a second-hand dealer, "goes next to a
tradesman, and next to a costermonger's donkey,
aod if it's been good leather to beffin with— as
it will if it was made for a lady — why the traces
11 stand douting, and patching, and piecing, and
mending for a long time, and they 11 do to cobble
eld boota last of all, for old leather '11 wear just
la treadinff, when it might snap at a pulL Gtire
■a a good quality to begin with, sir, and it's

serriceable to the end." In my inquiries among
the costermongers I ascertained that if one of that
body started his donkey, or rose from that to his
pony, he never bought new harness, unless
it were a new collar if he had a regard for the
comfort of his beast, but bought old harness, and
"did it up" himself, often using iron rivetSi
or clenched nails, to reunite the broken parts,
where, of course, a harness-maker would apply a
patch. Nor is it the costermongers alone who
buy all their harness second-hand. The sweep,
whose stock of soot is large enough to require the
help of an ass and a cart in its transport ; the
collector of bones and offiil from the butchers'
slaughter-houses or shops ; and the many who
may be considered as co-traders with the coster-
monger class— the greengrocer, the street coal-
seller by retail, the salt-sellers, the gravel and
sand dealer (a few have small carts)— «li, indeed,
of that class of traders, buy their harness second-
hand, and generally in the streets. The chief sale
of second-hand harness is on the Friday afternoons,
in Smithfield. The more especial street-sale is in
Petticoat and Rosemary lanes, and in the many
off-streets and alleys which may be called the tri-
buuries to those great second-hand marts. There
is no sale of these wares in the Saturday night
markets, for in the crush and bustle generally
prevailing there at such times, no room could
be found for things requiring so much space as
sets of second-hand harness, and no time suffi-
ciently to examine them. " There 's so much to
look at, you understand, sir," said one second-
hand street-trader, who did a little in harness
as well as in barrows, " if you wants a decent
set, and don't grudge a shilling or two— and
I never grudges them myself when I has 'em — so
that it takes a little time. You must see that the
buckles has good tongues — and it 's a sort of joke

in the trade that a bad tongue 's a d d bad

thing — and tliat the pannel of the pad ain't as
hard as a board (flocks is the best stuffing, sir),
and that the bit, if it 's rusty, can be polished up,
for a animal no more likes a rusty bit in bis
mouth than we likes a musty bit of bread iu
our'n. 0, a man as treats his ass as a ass
ought to be treated— and it's just the same if he
has a pony— can't be too perticler. If I had my
way I 'd 'act a hiw making people perticler about
'osses' and asses' shoes. If your boot pinches you,
sir, you can sing out to your bootmaker, but a ass
can't blow up a fiirrier." It seems to me that in
these homely remarks of my informant, there is,
so to speak, a sound practical kindliness. There
can be little doubt that a fellow who maltreats his
ass or his dog, maltreats his wife and children
when he dares.

Cloeki are sold second-hand, but only by three
or four foreigners, Dutchmen or Germans, who
hawk them and sell them at 2t, Qd, or 8«.
each, Dutch clocks only been disposed of in this
way. These traders, therefore, come under the
head of STUtST-FoRiioNBaa. " Ay," one stree^
seller remarked to me, " it 's only Dutch now as
is second-handed in the streets, but it '11 soon be
Americans. The swags is some of them hung up

24

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

with S1ick*s;*' [so be called the American clocks,
meaning the "Sam Slicks/* in reference to Mr.
Justice Hallyborton's work of that title ;] " they're
hung up with 'em, sir, and no reUtion whatsomeTer
(pawnbroker) 11 gire a printed character of 'em
(a duplicate), and so they must come to the streets,
and jolly cheap Uiey '11 be." The foreigners who
sell the second-hand Dutch clocks sell also new
clocks of the same manufacture, and often on
tally, 1«. a week being the usual payment.

VarUmeke-boxet are sold at the miscellaneous
stalls, but only after there has been what I heaid
called a " Tower sale " (sale of military stores).
When bought of the street-sellers, the use of these
boxes is ba more peaceful than that for which
they were manu&ctured. Instead of the recep-
tacles of cartridges, the divisions are conTerted
into nail boxes, each with iu different assortment,
or contain the smaller kinds of tools, such as awl-
blades. These boxes are sold in the streets at
4<i. or Id. each, and are bought by jobbing shoe-
rankers more than by any other class.

Of the other second-hand commodities of the
streets, I may observe that in l^niett the tnuie
is altogether Jewish ; in Maps, with frames, it is
now a nonentity, and so it is with Fishing-rodt,
Crichet'ha4», Ac.

In UmhrelUu and ParasoU the second-hand
traffic is large, but those vended in the streets are
nearly all " done up " for street-sale by the class
known as *• Mush," or more properly " Mushroom
Fakers," that is to say, the makers or faixrs
{/acere — the slang falement being simply a cor-
ruption of the Latm JacimetUum) of those articles
which are similar in shape to muth'oofM. I shall
treat of this chiss and the goods they sell under
the head of Street^Artisans. The collectors of Old
Umbrellas and Parasols are the same persons as
collect the second-hand habiliments of male and
female attire.

The men and women engaged in the street-
commerce carried on in second-hand articles are,
in all respects, a more mixed class than the gene-
rality of street-sellers. Some hawk in the streets
goods which they also display in their shops, or
in the windowless apartments known as their
shops. Some are not in possession of shops, but
often buy their wares of those who are. Some
collect or purchase the articles they vend ; others
collect them by barter. The itinerant crock-man,
the root-seller, the glazed table cover seller, the
hnwker of spars and worked stone, and even the
costermonger of the morning, is the dealer in
second-hand articles of the afternoon and evening.
The costermonger is, moreover, often the buyer
and seller of second-hand harness in Smithfield.
I may point out again, also, what a multi&riousness
of wares passes in the course of a month through
the hands of a general street-seller ; at one time
new goods, at another second-hand ; sometimes
he is stationary at a pitch vending " lots," or
''swag toys;" at others itinerant, selling braces,
belts, and hose.

I found no miscellaneous dealer who could tell
me of the proportionate receipts from the various

articles he dealt in even for the last month. He
" did well " in this, and badly in the other trade,
but beyond such vague statements there is no pre-
cise information to be had. It should be recol-
lected that the street* sellers do not keep acoounti,
or those documents would supply references. " It 's
all headwork with us," a street-seller said, some-
what boastingly, to me, as if the ignorance of
book-keeping was rather commendable.

Ov SkOOND HARD StOBB ShOPS.

Perhaps it may add to the completeneu of the
information here given concerning the trading in
old refuse articles, and especially those of a mis-
cellaneous character, the manner in which, and
the parties by whom the business is carried on,
if I conclude this branch of the subject by an
account of the shops of the second-hand dealers.
The distance between the class of these shop-
keepers and of the stall and barrow-keepers
I have described is not great. It may be said
to be merely from the street to within doors.
Marine-store dealers have often in their start in
life been street-sellers, not unfrequently coster-
mongers, and street-sellers they again become if
their ventures be unsucccssfiiL Some of them,
however, make a good deal of money in what
may be best understood as a " hugger-mngger
way."

On this subject I cannot do better than qnote
Mr. Dickens, one of the most minute and truthful
of observers : —

" The reader must often have perceived in some
by-street, in a poor neighbourhood, a amall dirty
shop, exposing for sale the most extraordinary and
confused jumble of old, worn-out, wretched arti-
cles, that can well be imagined. Our wonder at
their ever having been bought, is only to be
equalled by our astonishment at the idea of their
ever being sold again. On a b'lard, at the side of
the door, are placed about twenty books — all odd
volumes ; and as many wine-glasses — all different
patterns ; several locks, an old earthenware pan,
fall of rusty keys ; two or three gaudy chimney
ornaments— cracked, of course; the remains of a
lustre, without any drops ; a round frame like a
capital 0, which has once held a mirror ; a flute,
complete with the exception of the middle joint ;
a pair of curling-irons; and a tinder-box. In
front of the shop-window, are ranged some half-
dozen high-backed chairs, with spinal complaints
and wasted legs ; a comer cupboard ; two or
three very dark mahogany Ubles with flaps like
mathematical problems ; some pickle-bottles, some
surgeons' ditto, with gilt labels and without
stoppers ; an unframed portrait of some lady who
flourished about the beginning of the thirteenth
century, by an artist who never flourished at all ;
an inoUculable host of nuscellanies of every de-
scription, including armour and cabinets, rags and
bones, fenders and street-door knockers, fire-irons^
wearing-apparel and bedding, a hall-lamp, and a
room-door. Imagine, in addition to this incon-
gruous mass, a block doll in a white frock, with
two fiices— one looking up the street, and the
other looking down, swinging over the door; a

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

25

b<Murd with the iqaeeied-iip inseription ' Dealer in
marioe itoret,* in lankj white letters, whose
height if strangely out of proportion to their
width; and you have before yoa precisely the
kind of shop to which we wish to direct your
attention.

" Although the nme heterogeneous mixture of
things will be found at all these places, it is
cnrioua to observe how truly and accurately some
of the minor articles which are exposed for sole —
articles of weariog-apparel, fur instance — mark the
character of the neighbourhood. Take Drury-
lane and GoTent-garden for example.

** This is essentially a theatrictd neighbourhood.
There is not a potboy in the viciuity who is not,
to a greater or less extent, a dramatic character.
The emmd'boys and chandlen'-shop-keepen' sons,
are all stage-struck : they ' get up' plays in back
kitchens hired for the purpose, and will stand
before a shop-window for hours, contemplating a
great staring portrait of Mr. somebody or other,
of the Boyal Ooburg Theatre, * as he appeared in
the character of Tongo the Denounced.' The
consequence is, that there is not a marine-store
shop in the neighbourhood, which does not exhibit
for sale some £ided articles of dramatic finery,
■uch as three or four pairs of soiled buff booM
with turn-over red tops, heretofore worn by a
'fourth robber,' or 'fifth mob;' a pair of rusty
broad-swords, a few gauntlets, and certain re>
^lendent ornaments, which, if they were yellow
instead of white, might be taken for insurance
plates of the Sun Fire-office. There are several
of these shops in the narrow streets and dirty
courts, of which there are so many near the
national theatres, and they all have tempting
goods of this description, with the addition, per-
haps, of a lady's pink dress covered with span-
gles ; white wreaths, stage shoes, and a tiaro like
a tin kmp reflector. They have been purchased of
some wretched supernumeraries, or sixth-rate
actors, and are now offered for the benefit of the
rising generation, who, on condition of making
certain weekly payments, amounting in the whole
to abont ten times their value, may avail them-
selres of such desirable bargains.

"Let us uke a very di&rent quarter, and
apply it to the same test. Look at a marine-store
dealer'Sy in that reservoir of dirt, drunkenness,
and drabs : thieves, oysters, baked potatoes, and
pickled salmon — Batcliff-highway. , Here, the
I wearing-apparel is all nautical. Bough blue
jackets, with mother-of-pearl buttons, oil-skin hats,
coarse checked shirts, and large canvass trousera
that look as if they were made for a pair of bodies
instead of a pair of legs, are the staple commo-
didea. Then, there are large btmches of cotton
pocket-handkochiefi^ in colour and pattern unlike
any one ever saw before, with the exception of
those on the backs of the three young ladies with-
out bonnets who passed just now. The furniture
is much the same as elsewhere, with the addition
of one or two models of ships, and some old
prints of naral engagements in still older frames.
In the window are a few compasses, a small tray
eentainiiifg silver watches in clumsy thick cases;

and tobacco-boxes, the lid of each ornamented
with a ship, or an anchor, or some such trophy.
A sailor generally pawns or sells all he has before
he has been long ashore, and if he does not, some
fiivourad companion kindly saves him the trouble.
In cither case, it is an even chance that he after-
wards unconsciously repurchases the same things
at a higher price than he gave for them at fint.

" Again : pay a visit, with a simihir object, to a
part ot London, as unlike both of these as they
are to each other. Cross oTor to the Surry side,
and look at such shops of this description as are
to be found near the King's Bench prison, and in
' the Kules.' How different, and how strikingly
illustrative of the decay of some of the unfortunate
residents in this part of the metropolis 1 Impri-
sonment and neglect have done their work. There
is contamination in the profligate denisens of a
debtors' prison ; old friends have fidleu off; the
recollection of former prosperity has passed away ;
and with it all thoughu for the past, all care for
the future. First, watches and rings, then cloaks,
coaU, and all the more expensive articles of dress,
have found their way to the pawnbroker's. That
miserable resource has foiled at last, and the sale
of some trifling article at one of these shops, has
been the only mode left of raising a shilling or
two, to meet the uigent demands of the moment.
Dressing-cases and writing-desks, too old to pawn
but too good to keep ; guns, fishing-rods, musical
instruments, all in the same condition ; have first
been sold, and the sacrifice has been but slightly
felt. But hunger must be allayed, and what has
already become a habit, is easily resorted to,
when an emergency arises. Light articles of
clothing, first of the ruined man, then of his wife,
at lost of their children, even of the youngest,
have been parted with, piecemeal There they
are, thrown carelessly together until a purohaser
presents himself, old, and patched and repaired,
it is true; but the make and materials tell of
better days : and the older they are, the greater
the misery and destitution of those whom they
once adorned."

OV THB STREST-SBLLSB8 07 SsOORD-HAKD

Apparel.
Thk multifariousness of the articles of this trade
is limited only by what the uncertainty of the
climate, the caprices of foshinn, or the established
styles of apparel in the kingdom, have caused to
be worn, flung aside, and reworu as a revival of
an obsolete style. It is to be remarked, however,
that of the old-foshioned styles none that are
costly have been revived. Laced coats, and em-
broidered and lappeted waistcoats, have long dis-
appeared from second-hand traffic — the last stage
of fashions — and indeed from all places but court
or foncy balb and the theatre.

The great mart for second-hand apparel was,
in the last century, in Monmouth-street ; now,
by one of those arbitrary, and almost always
inappropriate, changes in the nonienchiture of
streets, termed Dudley-street, Seven Dials. " Mon-
mouth-street finery" was a common term to ex-
press tawdriness and pretence. Kow Mo

ioomMUk^mt

26

LOKDOir LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR

•treet, for iti new name ia hardly legitimated,
hat no finery. Iti Becond-hand wares are almoBt
wholly confined to old boots and shoes, which are
vamped np with a good deal of trickery ; so much so
that a shoemaker, himself in the poorer practice
of the '' gentle craft," told me that blacking and
brown paper were the materials of Monmoiith-
street cobbling. Almost erery master in Hon-
mouth-street now is, I am told, an Irishman ; and
the great majority of the workmen are Irishmen
also. There were a few Jews and a few cock-
neys in this well-known street a year or two
back, but now this branch of the second-hand
trade is really in the hands of what may be
called a clan. A little business is carried on in
second-hand apparel, as well as boots and shoes,
but it is insignificant.

The head-qnarters of this second-hand trade
are now in Petticoat and Rosemary Unes, espe-
cially in Petticoat-lane, and the traffic there
carried on may be called enormous. As in other
departments of commerce, both in our own capitil,
in many of our older cities, and in the cities of
the Continent, the locality appropriated to this
traffic is one of narrow streets, dark alleys, and
most oppressive crowding. The traders seem to
judge of a Bag-fair garment, whether a cotton
frock or a ducal coachman's great-coat, by the
touch, more reliably than by the sight ; they in-
spect, so to speak, with their fingers more than
their eyes. But the business in Petticoat and
Rosemary lanes is mostly of a retail character.
The wholesale mart — for the trade in old clothes
has both a wholesale and retail form — is in a place
of especial curiosity, and one of which, as being
little known, I shall first speak.

Of tuc Old Clotrks Exchakob.
Thb trade in second-hand apparel is one of the
most ancient of callings, and is known in almost
every country, but anything like the Old Clothes
Exchange of the Jewish quarter of London, in
the extent and order of its business, is unequalled
in the world. There is indeed no other such
place, and it is rather remarkable that a business
occupying so many persons, and requiring such
facilities for examination and arrangement, should
not until the year 1843 have had its regulated
proceedings. The Old Clothes Exchange is the
latest of the central marts, established in the me-
tropolis.

Hmithfield, or the Cattle Exchange, is the
oldest of all the markets ; it is mentioned as a
place for the sale of horses in the time of Henry
II. Billingsgate, or the Fish Exchange, is of
ancient, but uncertain era. Covent Garden — the
largest Fruit, Vegetable, and Flower Exchange —
first became established as the centre of such com-
merce in the reign of Charles II. ; the establish-
ment of the Borough and Spitalfields markets, as
other marts for the sale of fruits, vegetables, and
flowers, being nearly as ancient. The Royal
Exchange dates from the days of Queen Elizabeth,
and the Bank of England and the Stock-Exchange
from those of William III., while the present pre-
mises for the Com and Coal Exchanges are modem.

Were it possible to obtain the statistici of ilra
last quarter of a century, it would, perhaps, be
found that in none of the importuit intentts
I have mentioned has there been a greater in-
crease of business than in the trade in old clotbea.
Whether this purports a high deoree of national
prosperity or not, it is not my bosineis at present
to inquire, and be it as it may, it is certain that,
until the Ust few years, the toade in old clothes
used to be carried on entirely in the open air, and
this in the localities which I have pointed oat in
my account of the trade in old metal (p. 10, toI. ii.)
as comprising the Petticoat-lane district The old
clothes trade was also pursued in Rosemary-Une,
but then — and so indeed it is now — this was but a
branch of the more centralised commerce of Petti-
coat-lane. The head-quarters of the traffic at
that time were confined to a space not more than
ten square yards, adjoining Cntler-ttreet. The
chief traffic elsewhere was originally in Cutler-
street. White-street, Carter-street, and in Harrow-
alley — the districts of the celebrated Rag-fiur.

The confusion and clamour before the instita-
tion of the present arrangements were extreme.
Qreat as was the extent of the business transacted,
people wondered how it could be accomplished, for
it aJways appeared to a stranger, that there could
be no order whateTer in all the disorder. The
wrangling was incessant, nor were the trade-
contests always confined to wrangling alone. The
passions of the Irish often droTo them to resort to
cuff«, kicks, and blows, which the Jews, although
with a better command over their tempers, were
not slack in returning. The Bast India Company,
some of whose warehouses adjoined the market,
frequently complained to the city authorities of
the nuisance. Complaints from other qnarten
were also frequent, and sometimes as many as
200 constables were necessary to restore or enforce
order. The nuisance, however, like many a
public nuisance, was left to remedy itself or
rather it was left to be remedied by indiyidnal
enterprise. Mr. L. Isaac, the present proprietor,
purchased the houses which then filled np the back
of Phil's-buildings, and formed the present Old
Clothes Exchange. This was eight years ago;
now there are no more policemen in the locality
than in other equally populous parts.

Of Old Clothes Exchanges there are nbw
two, both adjacent, the one first opened by Mr.
Isaac being the most important. This is 100
feet by 70, and is the mart to which the collectors
of the cast-off apparel of the metropolis bring their
goods for sale. The goods are sold wholesale and
retail, for an old clothes merchant will buy either
a single hat, or an entire wardrobe, or a tackful
of shoes, — I need not say pain, for odd shoes
are not rejected. In one department of "Isaac's
Exchange," however, the goods are not sold to
parties who buy for their own wearing, bat to the
old clothes merchant, who buys to sell again. In
this portion of the mart are 90 stalls, aTersging
about six square feet each.

In another department, which commnnicates
with the first, and is two-thirds of the site, are
assembled such traders as buy the old gtrmentsto

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR,

27

ditpoM of them, either after a proeeis of cleaning,
or when they hare been repaired and renovated.
These buyers are generally shopkeepers, residing
in the oid clothes districts of Marylebone-lane,
HolyweUnitreet, Monmouth-street, Union-street
(Borough), 8a&on-hi)l (Field-lane), Drury-lane,
Shoreditdi, the Waterloo-road, and other places
of which I shall bare to speak hereafter.

The differenco between the first and second
class of bayers above mentioned, is really that of
the merchaiot and the retail shopkeeper. The one
boys literally anything presented to him which is
▼endible, and in any quantity, for the supply of
the wholesale dealers from distant parts, or for
exportation, or for the general trade of London,
The other purchases what suits his individual
trade, and is likely to suit regular or promiscuous
customers.

In another part of the same market is carried
on the rttttil old clothes trade to any one— rshop-
keeper, artisan, clerk, costermonger, or gentlemen.
This indeed, is partially the case in the other
parts. "Tesh, inteet," said a Hebrew trader,
whom I conversed with on the subject, " I shall
bo dad to shell you one coat, sir. Dish von is
shust your shise; it is verra sheep, and vosh
made by one tip-top shnip." Indeed, the keenness
and anxiety to trade — whenever trade seems
possibla — causes many of the frequenters of these
marts to infringe the arrangements as to the
manner of the traffic, though the proprietors
endeavoar to canse the regulations to be strictly
adhered to.

The second Bxchange, which is a few yards
apart from the other is known as Simmons and
Levy's Clotlws Exchange, and is unemployed, for
its more especial business purposes, except in
the mornings. The commerce is then wholesale,
for here are sold collections of unredeemed pledges
in wearing apparel, consigned there by the pawn-
brokers, or the buyers at the auctions of unre-
deemed goods; as well as draughts from the
stocks of the wardrobe dealers; a quantity of
military or naval stores, and, such like articles.
In the afternoon the stalls are occupied by retail
dealers. The ground is about as large as the first-
mentioned exchange, but is longer and narrower.

In neither of these places is there even an
attempt at architectural elegance, or even nea^
ness. The stalls and partitions are of unpainted
wood, the walls are bare, the only care that
seems to be manifested is that the places should
be dry. In the first instance the plainness was
no doubt a necessity from motives of prudence, as
the establishments were merely speculations, and
BOW everything but hunnat seems to be disre-
garded. The Old Clothes Bxchanges have as-
saredly one recommendation as they are now
seen — their appropriateness. They have a thread-
bare, patched, and tecond-hand look. The dresses
worn by the dealers, and the dresses they deal
ID, are all in accordance with the genius of the
phioe. But the eagerness, crowding, and eneigy,
are the grand features of the scene ; and of all
the many curious sights in London there is none
m pictufosquo (from the various coatumei of the

buyers and sellers), none so novel, and none so
animated as that of the Old Clothes Bxchange.

Business is carried on in the wholesale depart-
ment of the Old Clothes Exchanges every day
during the week; and in the retail on each day
except the Hebrew Sabbath (Saturday). The
Jews in the old clothes trade observe strictly the
command that on their Sabbath day they shall do
no manner of work, for on a visit I paid to the
Bxchange last Saturday, not a single Jew could I
see engaged in any business. But though th«
Hebrew Sabbath is observed by the Jews and
disregarded by the Christians, the Christian
Sabbath, on the other hand, is disregarded by Jew.
and Christian alike, some few of the Irish ex-
cepted, who may occasionally go to early mass,
and attend at the Exchange lUierwards. Sunday,
therefore, in " Bag-&ir," is like the other days of
the week (Saturday excepted) ; business closes on
the Sunday, however, at 2 instead of 6.

On the Saturday the keen Jew- traders in the
neighbourhood of the Exchanges may be seen
standing at their doors — after the synagogue hours
— or looking out of their windows, dressed in their
best. The dress of the men is for the moil part
not distinguishable from that of the English on
the Sunday, except that there may be a greater
glitter of rings and watch-guards. The dress of
the women is of every kind; becoming, handsome,
rich, tawdry, but seldom neat

Of thb Wholesalb Businbss at thx Old
Clothes Bzohanqi.
A OONSIDBRABLB quantity of the old clothes dis-
posed of at the Bxchange are bought by mer-
chants from Ireland. They are then packed in
bales by porters, regularly employed for the
purpose, and who literally buUd them up square
and compact > These bales are each worth from
50/. to 300/., though seldom 800/., and it is
curious to reflect from how many classes
the pile of old garments has been collected
— how many privations hav^ been endured
before some of these habiKments found their
way into the possession of the old clothes-
man — what besotted debauchery pot others in
his possession — with what cool calculation others
were disposed of — how many were procured for
money, and how many by the tempting offers of
flowers, glass, crockery, spars, table-covers, lace,
or millinery — what was the clothing which qould
first be spared when rent was to be defrayed or
bread to be bought, and what was treasured until the
last — ^in what scenes of gaiety or gravity, in the
opera-house or the senate, had the perhaps departed
wearers of some of that heap of old clothes
figured — through how many possessors, and again
through what new scenes of middle-cUss or
artisan comfort had these dresses passed, or through
what accidents of " genteel " privation and desti-
tution— and lastly through what necessities of
squalid wretchedness and low debauchery.

Every kind of old attire, firom the highest to
the very lotoett, I was emphatically told, was
sent to IreUnd.

Some of the bales are composed of garments

28

LONDON LABOUR AND THB LONDON POOR.

originally made for the labouring clauei. These
are made np of every description of colour and
material — cloth, corduroy, woollen cordi, fof tian,
moleikin, flannel, TelTeteen, plaidf, and the leTeral
Tarieties of thoae suhttanoes. In them are to be
leen coats, great-coats, jackets, tronsers, and
breeches, but no other habiliments, such as boots,
shirts, or stockings. I was told by a gentleman,
who between 40 and 50 years ago was fiuniliar
with the liberty and poorer parts of Dablin, that
the most coveted and the most saleable of all
second-hand apparel was that of leather breeches,
worn commonly in some of the country parts
of Bngland half a century back, and sent
in considerable quantities at that time from
London to Irehuid. These nether habiliments
were coveted because, as the Dublin sellers would
say, they " would wear for ever, and look illigant
after that'* Buckskin breeches are now never
worn except by grooms in their liveries, and
gentlemen when hunting, so that the trade in
them in the Old Clothes Bzchange, and their ex-
portation to Ireland, are at an end. The next most
saleable thing — I may mention, incidentally —
Tended cheap and second-hand in Dublin, to the
poor Irishmen of the period I speak of, was a
wig t And happy was the man who could wear
two, one over the other.

* Some of the Irish bnyers who are regular fre-
quenters of the London Old Clothes Exchange,
take a small apartment, often a garret or a cellar,
in Petticoa^lane or its vicinity, and to this room
they convey their purchases until a sufficient stock
has been collected. Among these old clothes the
Irish possessors cook, or at any rate eat, their
meals, and upon them they sleep. I did not hear
that such dealers were more than ordinarily un-
healthy ; though it may, perhaps, be assumed that
such habits are fiital to health. What may be the
average duration of life among old clothes sellers
who live in the midst of their wares, I do not
know, and believe that no facts have been col-
lected on the subject ; but I certainly saw among
them some very old men.

Other wholesale buyers from IreUnd occupy
decent lodgings in the neighbourhood — decent
considering the locality. In Phil's-buildings, a
kind of wide alley which forms one of the ap-
proaches to the Exchange, are eight respectable
apartments, almost always let to the Irish old
clothes merchants.

Tradesmen of the same class come also from
the hurge towns of England and Scotland to buy
for their customers some of the left-off clothes of
London.

Nor is this the extent of the wholesale trade.
Bales of old clothes are exported to Belgium and
Holland, but principally to Holland. Of the
quantity of gocds thus exported to the Continent
not above one-half, perhaps, can bo called old
clothes, while among these the old livery suits are in
the best demand. The other goods of this foreign
trade are old serges, duffles, carpeting, drugget,
and heavy woollen goods generally, of all the
descriptions which I have before enumerated as
parcel of the second-hand trade of the streets.

Old merino curtains, and any second-hand decora-
tions of fringes, woollen lace, &c, are in demand
for Holland.

Twelve bales, averaginff somewhere about lOOL
each in value, but not fully 100/., are sent direct
every week of the year from the Old Clothea
Exchange to distant pkoes, and this is not the
whole of the traffic, apart from what is done retail.
I am informed on the best authority, that the
average trade may be stated at 1500/. a week
all the year round. When I come to the
conclusion of the subject, however, I shall be
able to present statistics of the amount turned
over in the respective branches of the old
clothes trade, as well as of the number of the
traffickers, only one-fourth of whom are now
Jews.

The conversation which goes on in the Old
Clothes Exchange during business hours, apart
from the " larking ** of the young sweet^toff and
orange or cake-scdlers, is all concerning bnsineas,
but &ere is, even while business is being tiaas-
acted, a frequent interchange of jokes, and even of
practical jokes. The business talk — I was told
by an old clothes collector, and I heard aimilar
remarks — ^is often to the fiallowing efiect : —

" How much is this here 1 " says the man who
comes to buy. "One pound five," replies the
Jew seller. " I won't give you above luUf the
money." " Half de money," cries the saliwan,
" I can't take dat. Vat above the 16s. dat yon
ofifor now vill yon give for it 1 Vill you gifts m%
eighteen 1 Yell, come, give ush your money, I 've
got ma rent to pay." But the man says, " I only
bid you 12«. id,, and I shan't give no man."
And then, if the seller finds he can get him to
** spring" or advance no further, he says, " I shup-
posh I musht take your money even if I looah by
it. Tou '11 be a better cushtomer anoder time."
[This is still a common " deal," I am assured by
one who began the businoM at 18 years old, and
is now upwards of 60 years of age. The Pet*
ticoat-laner will always ask at least twiee as
much as he means to take.]

For a more detailed account of the mode of
busineu as conducted at the Old Clothes Ex-
change I refer the reader to p. 868, vol. i. Sub-
sequent Tisits have shown me nothing to alter in
that description, although written (in one of my
letters in the Morning Chronicle), nearly two
years ago. I have merely to add that 1 have
there mentioned the receipt of a halfpenny toll ;
but this, I find, is not leried on Saturdays and
Sundays.

I ought not to omit stating that pilfering one
from another by the poor persons who hare col-
lected the second-hand garments, and have carried
them to the Old Clothes Exchange to dispose of,
is of very rare occurrence. This is the more com-
mendable, for many of the wares could not be
identified by their owner, as he had procured
them only that morning. If, as happens often
enough, a roan carried a dozen pairs of old
shoes to the Exchange, and one pair were stolen, he
might have some difficulty in swearing to the

SCENE IN PETTICOAT-LANE.

LONDON LABOUR AND THB LONDON POOR.

«

iden^tjr of the piur porloined. It is trae that the inner part becoming the outer.

B9

u true
the Jews, and crock-men, and others, who collect,
by sale or barter, masaes of old clothes, note all
their defects rerj minutely, and might hare no
moral doubt ae to identity, nevertheleu the
magistrate would probably conclude that the legal
cTidence — were it only circumstantial — was insuf-
cient. The young thieres, however, who flock
from the low lodging-houses in the neighbour-
hood, are an especial trouble in Petticoat-lane,
where the people robbed are generally too busy,
and the article stolen of too little ralue, to induce
a prosecution — a knowledge which the juTenile
pilferer is not slow in acquiring. Sometimes when
these boys are caught pilfering, they are severely
beaten, espeeially by the women, who are aided
by the men, if the thief oflers any formidable re-
sistanee^ or struggles to return the blows.

Of TBI Usu OF Seookd-hard Garments.
I BAVK now to describe the uses to which the
sereral kinds of garments which constitute the
commerce of the Old Clothes Exchange are de-
voted, whether it be merely in the re-sale of the
apparel, to be worn in iu original form or in a
repaired or renovated form; or whether it bo I ^t)i\T*!^^2^tl
"worked up** into other habiliments, or be useful I „, fn^tn"
for the making of other descriptions of woollen
fiibrics ; or else whether it be fit merely for its last
stages — the rag-bag for the paper-maker, or the
manure heap for the hop-grower.

Each "left-off" garment has its peculiar after
utetf according to its material and condition. The
practised eye of the old clothes man at once em-
braces every capability of the apparel, and the
amount which these capabilities will realise ; whe-
ther they be woollen, linen, cotton, leathern, or

This mode
prevailed alike in Franm and EngUmd ; for Mo-
li^re makes his miser, Harpago^, magnanimously
resolve to incur the cost of his many-yeara'-old
coat being "turned," for the oelebratioa of his
expected marriage with a young and wealthy
bride. This way of dealing with a second-hand
garment is not so general now as it was fermerly
in London, nor is it in the country.

If the surtout be incapable of restoration to
the appearance of a "respectable" garment^ the
skirts are sold for the making of cloth caps;
or for the material of boys* or "youths'" waist-
coats ; or for " poor country curates' gaiters ; but
not so much now as they once were. The poor
journeymen parsons," I was told, "now goes
for the new slops; they're often green, and is
had by 'vertisemenu, and bills, and them books
about fashions which is all over both coun-
try and town. Do you know, sir, why them
there books is always made so small 1 The leaves
is about four inches square. That's to prevent
their being any use as waste paper. I '11 back a
coat such as is sometimes sold by a gentleman's
servant to wear out two new slops."

Ctoals are things of as ready sale as any kind
If good, or even reparable, they
are in demand both for the home and foreign
trades, as cloaks; if too Detr gone, which is but
rarely the case, they are especially available for
the same purposes as the surtout. The same may
be said of the great-coat

D)'ei8coatt are &r less useful, as if cleaned up
and repaired they are not in demand among the
working classes, and the clerks and shopmen on
small salaries are often tempted by the price, I
was told, to buy some wretched new slop thing
rather than a superior coat second-hand. The

silken goods ; or whether they be articles which | dress-coats, however, are used for caps. Sometimes
cannot be classed under any of those designations, ! a coat, for which the collector may have given

such as macintoshes and furs. i

A tnrtout coat is the most serviceable of any
second-hand clothing, originally good. It can
be re<o^ed, re-collared, or the skirts re-lined with
new or old silk, or with a substitute for silk.
It can be " restored" if the seams be white and
the general appearance what is best understood
by the expressive word "seedy." This restora-
tion is a sort of re-dyeing, or rather fe-colouring,
by the application of gall and logwood with a
small portion of copperas. If the under sleeve be
worn, as it oflen is by those whose avocations are
sedentary, it is renewed, and frequently with a
secondhand piece of cloth "to match," so that
there is no perceptible difference between the
renewal and the other parts. Many an honest
artisan in this way becomes possessed of his
Sunday frock-coat, as does many a smarter clerk
or shopman, impressed with a regard to his pe^
sonal anpearance.

In the last century, I may here observe, and
perhaps in the early part of the present, when
woollen doth was much dearer, much more sub-
stantial, and therefore much more durable, it was
common foreconomists to havea good coat" turned."
It wat taken to pieces by the tiiilor and re-made, |

9d., is cut up for the repairs of better garments.

Trcyusers are re-seated and repaired where the
material is strong enough; and they are, I am
informed, now about the only habiliment which i«
ever " turned," itnd that but exceptionally. The
repairs to trousers arc more readily effected than
those to coats, and trousers are freely bought by
the collectors, and as freely re-bought by the
public.

WaiiteoaU — I still speak of woollen fobrics —
are sometimes used in cap-making, and were used
in gaiter-making. But generally, at the present
time, the worn edges are cut away, the buttons
renewed* or replaced by a new set, sometimes of
glittering glass, the button-holes repaired or their
jaggedness gummed down, and so the waistcoat
is reproduced as a waistcoat, a sice smaller.
Sometimes a " vest," as waistcoats are occasionally
called, is used by the cheap boo^raaken for the
" legs" of a woman's cloth boots, either laced or
buttoned, but not a quarter as much as they would
be, I was told, if the buttons and button-holes of
the waistcoat would "do again" in the boot.

Nor is the woollen garment, if too thin, too
worn, or too rotten to be devoted to any of the
uses I have specified, flung away as worthless. To

80

LONDON LABOUR AND TEE LONDON POOR,

%

the tiaden in lecond'hand apparel, or in the re-
mains of aecond-hand apparel, a diut-hole is an
unknown receptacle. The woollen rag, for' so it
is then considered, when unravelled can be made
available for the mauu&cture of chetip yarns,
being mixed with new wool. It is more probable,
however, that the piece of woollen fabric which
has been rejected by those who make or mend,
and who must make or mend so cheaply that the
veriest vagrant may be their customer, is formed
not only into a new material, but into a material
which sometimes is made into a new garment.
These garments are inferior to those woven of new
wool, both in look and wear ; but in some articles
the re-manufacture is beautiful. The fabric thus
snatched, as it were, from the ruins of cloth, is
known as shoddy, the chief seat of manufacture
being in Dewsbury, a small town in Yorkshire.
The old material, when duly prepared, is torn
into wool again by means of Ane machinery, but
the rccovernl wool is shorter in its fibre and
more brittle in its nature; it is, indeed, more a
woollen pulp than a wool.

Touching this peculiar branch of manufacture,
I will here cite from the Morning Chronki'e a
brief description of a Shoddy Mill, so that the
reader may have as comprehensive a knowledge
as pouible of the several uses to which his left-
ofT clothes may be put.

" The imall town of Dewsbury holds, in the
woollen district, very much the saiuc position
which Oldliam does in the cotton country — the
spinning and preparing of waste and refuse ma-
terials. To this stuff the name of "shoddy** is
given, but the real and orthodox '' shoddy " is a
production of the wooUou districts, and consists
of the second-hand wool manufactured by the
tearing up, or rather the pnnding, of woollen rags
by means of coarse willows, called devils; the
operation of which sends forth choking clouds of
dry pungent dirt and floating fibres — the real and
original "devil's dust." Having been, by the
agency of the machinery in question, reduced to
something like the original raw material, fresh
wool is added to the pulp in different proportions,
according to the quality of the stuff to be manu-
factured, and the mingled material is at length
reworked in the usual way into a little serviceable
cloth.

" There are some shoddy mills in the neighbour-
hood of Huddersfield, but the mean little town
of Dewsbury may be taken as the metropolis of
the manufacture. Some mills are devoted solely
to the sorting, preparing, and grinding of rags,
which are worked up in the neighbouring factories.
Here great bales, choke full of filthy tatters, lie
scattered about the yard, while the continual
arrival of loaded waggons keeps adding to the
heap. A glance at the exterior of these mills
shows their character. The walU and part of
the roof are covered with the thick clinging dust
and fibre, which ascends in choky volumes frum the
open doors and glassleu windows of the ground
floor, and which also pours forth from a chimney,
constructed for the purpose, exactly like smoke.
The mill is covered as with a mildewy fungus, and

upon the gray slates of the roof the frowiy
deposit is often not less than two inohM in depth.

In the upper story of these mills the raga are
stored. A great ware-room is piled in many
places from the . floor to the oeiling with bales olF
woollen rags, torn strips and tatters of ejwj
colour peeping out firom the bursting depositories.
There is hardly a country in Europe which does
not contribute its quota of material to the shoddy
manufacturer. Rags are brought from Franee,
Germany, and in great quantities from Belgium.
Denmark, I understand, is fifivoorably looked upon
by the tatter merchanu, being fertile in morsels of
clothing, of Cair quality. Of domestic rags, the
Scotch bear off the palm ; and possibly no one
will be surprised to hear, that of all ragi Irish
rags are the most worn, the filthiest, and gene-
rally the most unprofitable. The gradationi of
value in the world of rags are indeed remarkable.
I was shown rags worth 50/. per ton, and rags
worth only 30«. The best clau is formed of the
remains of fine cloth, the produce of which, eked
out with a few bundles of fresh wool, is destined
to go forth to the world again as broad cloth, or
at all events as pilot cloth. Fragments of damask
and skirts of merino dresses form the staple of
middle-class rngs; and even the very worst bales
— they appear unmitigated mashes of frowiy
filth — afibrd here and there some fragments of
calico, which are wrought up into brown paper.
The refuse of all, mixed with the stuff whieh even
the shoddy-making devil rejects, is packed off to
the agricultural districts for use as manure, to fer-
tilise the hop-gardens of Kent.

" Under the rag ware-room is the sorting and
picking room. Here the bales are opened, and
their contents piled in close, poverty-smelling
masses, upon the floor. The operatives arc en-
tirely women. They sit upon low stools, or half
sunk and half enthroned amid heaps of the filthy
goods, busily employed in arranging them accord-
ing to the colour and the quality of the morsels,
and from the more pretending quality of rags
carefully ripping out every particle of cotton
which they cim detect. Piles of rags of different
sorts, dozens of feet high, are the obvious fruits
of their labour. All these women are over eigh-
teen years of age, and the wages which they are
paid for ten hours' work are 6«. per week. They
look squalid and dirty enough ; but all of them
chatter and several sing over their noisome la-
bour. The atmosphere of the room is close and
oppressive ; and although no particularly offensive
smell is perceptible, there is a choky, mildewy
sort of odour — a hot, moist exhalation — arising
from the sodden smouldering piles, as the work-
women toss armfuls of rags from one heap to
another. This species of work is the lowest and
foulest which any phase of the fiictory system can
show.

" The devils are upon the ground floor. The
choking dust bursts out from door and window,
and it is not until a minute or so that the visitor
can see the workmen moving amid the clouds,
catching up armfuls of the sorted rags and tossing
them into the machine to be torn into fibry frog-

LONDON LABOUR AND TBB LONDON POOR.

81

menti by the whirling reToIntions of its teeth.
The place in which thii im done is a large bare
room — ^the uncovered beams above, the rough
atone walli, and the woodwork of the nngbixed
windows being as it were furred over with cling-
ing woollj matter. On the floor, the dust and
coarse fiUunents lie as if 'it had been snowing
ina£' The workmen are coated with the flying
powder. They wear bandages over their mouths,
so as to prevent as much as possible the inhalation
of the dnst, and seem loath to remove the protec-
tion for a moment. The rag grinders, with their
iqnalid, dnst^trewn garments, powdered to a dull
grayish hue, and with their bandages tied over
the greater part of their faces, move about like
reanimated mummies in their swathings, looking
most ghastly. The wages of these poor creatures
do not exceed 7«. or 8<r. a week. The men are
much better paid, none of them making less than
18«. a week, and many earning hs much as 22«.
Not one of them, however, will admit that he
foond the trade injurious. The dust tickles them
a little, they say, that is all. They feel it most
of a Monday morning, after being all Sunday in
the fresh air. When they first take to the work
it hurts their throats a little, but they drink mint
tea, and that soon cures them. They are all
more or less subject to ' shoddy fever,* they con-
fess, especially after tenting the grinding of the
very dusty sorts of stufi" — worsted stockings, for
example. The shoddy fever is a sort of stuffing
of the bead and nose, with sore throat, and it
sometimes forces them to give over work for two
or three days, or at most a week ; but the dis-
order, the workmen say, is not fatal, and leaves
no particularly bad effects.

" In spite of all this, however, it is manifestly
impossible for human lungs to breathe under such
circumstances without sirring. The visitor ex-
posed to the atmosphere for ten minutes expe-
riences an unpleasant choky sensation in the
throat, which lasts all the remainder of the day.
The rag grinders, moreover, according to the best
acconnu, are very subject to asthmatic compUiints,
particularly when the air is dull and warm. The
shoddy fisver is said to be like a bad cold, with
constant acrid running from the nose, and a great
deal of expectoration. It is when there is a par-
ticulariy dirty lot of rags to be ground that the
people are nsnally attacked in this way, but the
fever seldom keeps them more than two or three
days firom their work.

" In other mills the rags are not only ground, but
the shoddy is worked up into coarse kid cloth, a
great proportion of which is sent to America for
slave clothing (and much now sold to the slop-
shops).

"After the rags have been devilled into shoddy,
the remaining processes are much the same, al-
thoagh conducted in a coarser way, as those
performed in the manufiscture of woollen cloth.
The weaving is, for the most part, carried on at
the homes of the workpeople. The domestic
arrangements consist, in every case, of two tolera-
bly large rooms, one above the other, with a cellar
braeath — a plan of construction called in York-

shire a "house and a chamber.** The chamber
has generally a bed amid the looms. The weavers
complain of irregular work and diminished wages.
Their average pay, one week with another, with
their wives to wind for them — ». €., to place the
thread upon the bobbin which goes into the shuttle
— is hardly so much as 10«. a week. They work
long hours, often fourteen per day. Sometimes
the weaver is a small capitalist with perhaps half
a dozen looms, and a hand-jenny for spinning
thread, the workpeople being within his own
fiunily as regular apprentices and journeymen.'*

Dr. Hemingway, a gentleman who has a large
practice in the shoddy district, has given the follow-
ing information touching the " shoddy fever** : —

''The disease popularly known as 'shoddy
fever,* and which is of frequent occurrence, is a
species of bronchitis, caused by the irritating effect
of the floating particles of dust upon the mucous
membrane of the trachea and iu ramifications. In
general, the attack is easily cured — ^particularly if
the patient has not been for any length of time
exposed to the exciting cause — by effervescing
saline draughts to allay the symptomatic febrile
action, followed by expectorants to relieve the
mucous membrane of the irritating dust ; but a
long continuance of employment in the contami-
nated atmosphere, bringing on as it does repeated
attacks of the disease, is too apt, in the end, to
undermine the constitution, and produce a train of
pectoral diseases, often closing with pulmonary
consumption. Ophthalmic attacks are by no
means uncommon among the shoddy-grinders, some
of whom, however, wear wire-gauze spectacles to
protect the eyes. As regards the effect of the
occnpation upon health, it may shorten life by
about five years on a rough average, taking, of
course, as the point of comparison, the average
longevity of the district in which the manu&cture
is carried on."

" Shoddy fever" is, in fact, a modification of
the very latal disease induced by what is called
"dry grinding" at Sheffield; but of course the
particles of woollen filament are less fatal in their
influence than the floating steel dust produced by
the operation in question.

At one time shoddy cloth was not good and
firm enough to be used for other purposes than
such as padding by tailors, and in the inner linings
of carriages, by coach-builders. It was not used
for purposes which would expose it to stress, but
only to a moderate wear or friction. Now shoddy,
which modem improvements have made suscep-
tible of receiving a fine dye (it always looked a
dead colour at one period), is made into cloth for
soldiers* and sailors* uniforms and for pilotcoato ;
into bhmketing, drugget, stair and other carpeting,
and into those beautiful table-covers, with their
rich woollen look, on which elegantly drawn and
elaborately coloured designs are printed through
the application of aquafortis. Thus the rags
which the beggar could no longer hang about him
to cover his nakedness, may be a component of the
soldier's or sailor's uniform, the carpet of a palace,
or the library table-cover of a prime-minister.

There is yet another use for old woollen clothes.

32

LONDOX LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

What is not good for shoddy is good for manure,
and more especially for the manure prepared by
the Agriculturists in Kent, Sussex, and Hereford-
shire, for the culture of a difficult plant — hops.
It is good also for com land (judiciously used),
so that we again baye the remains of the old
garment in our beer or our bread.

I have bitherto spoken of leooUen fabrics. The
garments of other nuiterials are seldom diverted
from their original use, fur as long as they will
hold together they can be sold fur exportation to
Ireland, though of course for rery trifling amounts.

The black Vetv-t and *Satin Waistcoats — the
latter now so commonly worn — are almost always
resold as waistcoats, and oft enough, when re-
bound and rebuttoned, make a rery respectable
looking garment. Nothing sells better to the
working-classes than a ffood second-hand vest of
the two materials of satin or velvet. If the satin,
however, be so worn and frayed that mending is
impossible, the back, if not in the same plight, is
removed for rcbacking of any waistcoat, and the
satin thrown away, one of the few thines which
in itt last stage is utterly valueless. It is the
same with silk waistcoats, and for the most part
with velvet, but a velvet waistcoat may be thrown
in the refuse heap with the woollen rags for
manure. The coloured waistcoats of irtlk or velvet
are dealt with in the same way. At one time,
when under-waistcoats were worn, the edges being
just discernible, quantities were made out of the
full waistcoats where a sufficiency of the stuff was
unworn. This fashion is now becoming less and
less followed, and is principally in vogue in the
matter of white under-waistcoats. For the jean
and other vests — even if a mixture of materials —
there is the same use as what I have described of
the black satin, and failing that, they are gene-
rally transferable to the rag-bag.

Hats have become in greater demand than ever
among the street-buyers since the introduction
into the London trade, and to so great an extent,
of the silk, velvet, French, or Parisian hats. The
construction of these hats is the same, and the
cosy way in which the hat-bodies are made, has
caused a number of poor persons, with no previous
knowledge of hat-making, to enter into the trade.
" There 's hundreds starving at it," said a hat-
manufacturer to me, "in Bennondsey, Lock's-
fields, and the Borough ; ay, hundreds." This
fiicility in the making of the bodies of the new
silk hats is quite as available in the restoration of
the bodies of the old hats, as I shall show from
the information of a highly-intelligent artisan,
who told me that of all people he disliked rich
ilop-sellers ; but there was another class which he
disliked more, and that was rich slop-buyers.

The bodies of the stuff or beaver hats of the
best quality are made of a firm felt, wrought up of
fine wool, rabbits' hair, &c., and at once elastic, I
firm, and light. Over this is placed the nap, pre- ■
pared from the hair of the beaver. The bodies of {
the silk hats are made of calico, which is blocked
(as indeed is the felt) and stiffened and pasted up |
until " only a hat-maker can tell," as it was ex-

pressed to me, " good sound bodies from btd ; and
the slop-masters go for the cheap and bad." Tli«
covering is not a nap of any hair, but is of ailk or
velvet (the words are used indifferently in tlia
trade) manufisctured for the purpose. Thna if an
old hat be broken, or rather cruahed out of all
shape, the body can be glazed and tiled up again
so as to suit the slop batter, if lold to bim aa n
body, and that whether it be of felt or calieo. I^
however, the silk cover of the hat be not worn
utterly away, the body, without stripping off the
cover, can be re-blocked and re-set, and the silk-
velvet trimmed up and " set,'' or re-dyed, and n
decent hat is sometimes produced by these mauMi
More frequently, however, a steeping shower of
rain destroys the whole fiUnic.

Second-ZuAful Caps are rarely brought into this
trade.

Such things as drawers, Jlannd waittcotUs, and
what is sometime called '* inner wear," sell veiy
well when washed up, patched — ^for patches do
not matter in a garment hidden from the eye
when worn — or mended in any manner. Flannel
waistcoats and drawers are often in demand by
the street-sellers and the street^htbourers, as they
are considered "good against the rheumatics.**
These habiliments are often sold unrepsured, having
been merely washed, as the poor men's wives may
be competent to execute an easy bit of tailoring;
or perhaps the men themselves, if they hate been
reared as mechanics ; and they believe (perhaps
erroneously) that so they obtain a better bargain.
Shirts are repaired and sold as shirts, or fw old
linen ; the trade is not large.

Men*s atockings are darned up, but only when
there is little to be done in darning, as they are
retailed at 2d. the pair. The sale is not very
great, for the supply is not " LoU might be sold,**
I was informed, "if they was to be had, for them
flash coves never cares what they wears under
their Wellingtons."

Ths WovitfCs Aj>parel is sold to be re-wom in
its original form quite as frequently, or more fre-
quently, than it is mended up by the sellers ; the
purchasers often preferring to make the alterations
themselves. A gown of stuff, cotton, or any
material, if fuU-sised, is frequently bought and
altered to fit a smaller person or a child, and so
the worn parts may be cut away. It is very
rarely also that the apparel of the middle-classes
is made into any other article, with the sole ex-
ception, perhaps, of silk gowns. If a silk gown
be not too much frayed, it is easily cleaned and
polished up, so as to present a new gloss, and is
sold readily enough ,• but if it be too hx gone for
this process, the old clothes renovator is often
puzzled as to what uses to put it A portion of a
black silk dress may be serviceable to re-line the
cuffs of the better kind of coats. There is seldom
enough, I was told, to re-line the two skirU of a
surtout, and it is difficult to match old silk; a
man used to buying a good second-hand surtout, I
was assured, would soon detect a difference in the
shade of the silk, if the skirts were re-lined from
the remains of different gowns, and say, " 1 11 not
give any such money for that piebald thing."

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

38

Skirti may be sometiinei re-lined this way- on the
getting up of frock coatfy but rery rarely. There
ia the aame difficulty in neing a coloured silk gown
for the re<co¥ering of a parasol. The quantity
nmy sot be enough for the gores, and cannot be
matched to satisfy the eye, for the buyer of a silk
parasol even in Kosemary-lane may be expected to
be critical. When there is enough of good silk
fJMT the purposes I have mentioned, then, it must
be borne in mind, the gown may be more valuable,
because saleable to be re-worn as a gown. It is
the same with satin dresses, but only a few of
them, in eoatiparison with the silk, are to be seen
at the Old Clothes' Exchange.
* Among the purposes to which portions of worn
iilk gowns are put are the making of spencers
fat liule girls (usually by the purchasers, or by
the dices-maker, who goes out to work for Is. a
day), of children's bonnets, for the lining of
women's bonnets, the re-lining of mufib and fur-
tippets, the patching of quilts (once a rather
fiuhioiiable thing), the inner lining or curtains to a
book-ease, and other household appliances of a
like kind. This kind of silk, too, no matter in
how minute pieces, is bought by the fancy cabinet-
maken (the small masters) for the lining of their
dreseing-casee and work-boxes supplied to the
warehoasei, bat these poor artisans have neither
meant nor leisure to buy such articles of those
eonneeted with the traffic of the Old Clothes' Bx-
ebange, but must purchase it, of course at an en-
hanced price, of a broker who has bought it at
the Bxchanffe, or in some establishment connected
with it. The second-hand silk is bought also for
the dressing of dolls for the toy-shops, and for the
lining of some toys. The hat-manufacturers of
the cheaper sort, at one time, used second-hand
silk for the padded lining of hats, but such is
rarely the practice now. It was once used in the
saoM manner by the bookbinders for lining the
inner part of the back of a book. If there be
any part of silk in a dress not suitable for any of
these purpoees it is wasted, or what is accounted
wasted, although it may have been in wear for
years. It is somewhat remarkable, that while
woollen and even cotton goods can be "shoddied" —
and if they are too rotten for that, they are made
available for manure, or in the manufiicture of paper
— ^ne use is made of the refuse of silk. Though one of
the;^most beautiful and costly of textile fabrics, its
"remains" are thrown aside, when a beggar's rags
are preserved and mado profitable. There can be
little doubt that silk, like cotton, could be shoddied,
hut whether snch a speculation would be remunc-
ntive or not is no part of my present inquiry.
There is not, as I shall subsequently show, so
gisat an exportation of female attire as might be
expected in comparison with male apparel ; the
poorer classes of the metropolis being too anxious
to get any decent gown when within their slender

Slayt, unless of superior make and in good
eondition, are little bought by the classes who are
the chief customers of the old-clothes* men in
London. I did not hear any reason for this from
■qr ef the old-dothes* people. One man thought.

I if there was a fiunily of daughters, the stays
I which had became too small for the elder girl were
I altered for the younger, and that poor women liked
I to mend their old stays as long as they would stick
together. Perhaps, there may be some repugnance
I — especially among the class of servant-maids
j who have not had " to rough it" — to wear street-
collected stays; a repugnance not, perhaps, felt
in the wearing of a gown which probably can be
washed, and is not worn so near the person. The
stays that are collected are for the most part ex-
ported, a great portion being sent to Ireland. If
they are " worn to rags," the bones are taken out;
but in the slop-made stays, it is not whalebone,
but wood that is used to give, or preserve the due
shape of the corset, and then the stays are
valueless.

Old Stoekingt are of great sale both for home
wear and foreign trade. In the trade of women's
stockings there has been in the last 20 or 25
years a considerable change. Before that period
black stockings were worn by servant girls, and
the families of working people and small trades-
men ; they ** saved washing." Now, even in Petti-
coat-lane, women's stockings are white, or '' mot-
tled," or some ligh^coIoured, very rarely black.
I have heard this change attributed to what is
rather vaguely called ''pride." May it not be
owing to a more cultivated sense of cleanliness 1
The women's stockings are sold darned and
undamed, and at (retail) prices from lei. to id, )
\d. or 2d. being the most frequent prices.

The peUicoatt and other under clothing are not
much bought second-hand by the poor women of
London, and are exported.

Women' t capt used to be sold second-hand, I
was told, both in the streets and the shops, but
long ago, and before muslin and needlework were
so cheap.

I heard of one article which formerly supplied
considerable "stuff" (the word used) ror second-
hand purposes, and was a part, but never a con-
siderable part, of the trade at Bag-fair. These
were the *' pUliont,** or large, firm, solid cushions
which were attached to a saddle, so that a horse
" carried double." Fifty years ago the farmer and
his wife, of the more prosperous order, went
regularly to church and market on one horse, a
pillion sustaining the good dame. To the best
sort of these pillions was appended what was
called the " pillion cloth," often of a fine, but thin
quality, which being really a sort of housing to
the horse, cut straight and with few if any seams,
was an excellent material for what I am informed
was formerly called " making and mending." The
»colour was almost exclusively drab or blue. The
pillion on which the squire's lady rode — and
8i|ridan makes his Lcidy Te<ule deny "the
pinion and the coach-horse," the butler being her
cavalier — was a perfect piece of upholstery, set off
with kce and fringes, which again were excellent
for second-hand sale. Such a means of convey-
ance may still linger in some secluded country
parts, but it is generally speaking obsolete.

Boots and Shoes are not to be had, I am told,
in sufficient quantity for the demand from tho

81

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

ilop-shopSy the " translators/' and the second-hand
dealers. Great quantities of second-hand boots and
shoes are sent to Ireland to be "translated" there.
Of all the wares in this traffic, the clothing for the
feet is what is most easily prepared to cheat the
eye of the inexperienced, the imposition having
the aids of heel-ball, &c., to fill up crevices, and
of bUcking to hide defects. Even when the
boots or shoes are so worn out that no one will
put a pair on his feet, though purchaseable for
about ]<{., the insoles are ripped out; the soles, if
there be a sufficiency of leather, are shaped into
insoles for children's shoes, and these insoles are
sold in bundles of two dozen pairs at 2(2. the
bundle. So long as the boot or shoe be not in many
holes, it can be cobblered up in Monmouth-street
or elsewhere. Of the "translating" business
transacted in those localities I had the follow-
ing interesting account from a man who was
lately engaged in it

" Translation, as I understand it (said my in-
formant), is this — to take a worn, old pair of shoes
or boots, and by repairing them make them appear
as if left oiF with hardly any wear — as if they
were only soiled. I'll tell you the way they
manage in Monmouth-street. There are in the
trade * horses' heads ' — a 'horse's head ' is the foot
of a boot with sole and heel, and part of a front —
the back and the remainder of the front having
been used for refooting boots. There are also
' stand-bottoms ' and ' lick-ups.' A ' stand-bottom '
is where the shoe appears to be only soiled, and a
' lick-up ' is a boot or shoe re-lasted to take the
wrinkles out, the edges of the soles having been
rasped and sqiuired, and then blacked up to hide
blemishes, and the bottom covered with a / smo-
ther,' which I will describe. There is another
article called a ' flyer,' that is, a shoe soled with-
out having been welled. In Monmouth-street a
* horse's head ' is generally retailed at 2#. 6<£., but
some fetch ii, €d, — that's the extreme price.
They cost the translator from \t, a dozen pair to
8^., but those at 8«. are good, and are used for
the making up of Wellington boots. Some
'horses' heads' — such as are cut off that the booU
may be re-footed on account of old fashion, or a
misfit, when kirdly worn — fetch 2«. 6(Z. a pair,
and they are made up as new-footed boots, and
sell from 10«. to 16*. The average price of feet
(that is, for the * horse's head,' as we call it) is
id,, and a pair of ,backs say 2d. ; the back is
attached loosely by chair stitching, as it is called,
to the heel, instead of being stitched to the in-
sole, as in a new boot. The wages for all this is
\i. id. in Monmouth-street (in Union-street, Bo-
rough, Is. Qd.) ; but I was told by a roaster that
he had got the work done in Gray'sinn-Une at 9(2.
Tut it, however, at It. Ad. wages — then, with M.
and 2d. for the feet and back, we have 1*. lo5.
outLiy (the workman finds his own grindery), and
%d. profit on each pair sold at a rate of 2s. M.
Some masters will sell from 70 to 80 pairs per
week : that 's under the mark ; and that 's in
' horses' heads ' alone. One man employs, or did
lately emplo}-, seven men on 'horses' heads'
solely. The profit generally, in fair shops, in

'stand-bottoms,' if from Is. 6ci. to 2«. per pair, at
they sell generally sXZs.M, One man tAes, or
did take, 100/. in a day (it was calculated aa an
average) over the counter, and all for the tort of
shoes I have described. The profit of a ' lick-op '
is the same as that of a ' stand-bottom.' To ikow
the villanous way the ' itand-bottoma ' are got
up, I will tell you this. Tou have seen a broken
upper-leather; well, we place a pieee of leatker,
waxed, underneath the broken part, on which wo
set a few stitches through and through. When
dry and finished, we take what is called a ' ioli>
heel-ball ' and ' smother ' it over, so that it lome-
times would deceive a currier, as it appears like
the upper leather. With regard to the bottoms,
the worn part of the sole is opened bom the edoe,
a piece of leather is made to fit exactly into Ue
hole or worn part, and it is then nailed and filed
uut 1 level. Paste is then applied, and ' smother'
put over the part, and that imitates the dust of the
road. This ' smother ' is obtained from the dust
of the room. It is placed in a silk stocking, tied
at both ends, and then shook through, jnat like a
powder-puff, only we shake at both enda. It is
powdered out into our leather apron, and mixed
with a certain preparation which I will describe
to you (he did so), but I would rather not have
it published, as it would lead others to practiae
simikr deceptions. I beUeve there are about
2000 translators, so you may judge of the extent
of the trade ; and translators are more constantly
employed than any other branch of the businesi.
Many make a great deal of money. A journeyman
translator can earn from Zs. to is, a day. Yon
can give the average at 20s. a week, as the wagea
are good. It must be good, for we have 2f. for
soling, heeling, and weltiug a pair of boots ; and
some men don't get more for making them. Mon-
mouth-street is nothing like what it was ; as to
curious old garmenu, that's all gone. There's
not one English master in the translating business
in Monmouth-street — they are all Irish; and
there is now hardly an English workman there —
perhaps not one. I believe that all the tradesmen in
Monmouth-street make their workmen lodge with
them. I was lodging with one before I married a
little while ago, and I know the system to be the
same now as it was then, unless, indeed, it be al-
tered for the worse. To show how disgusting these
lodgings must be, I will state this : — I knew a
Roman Catholic, who was attentive to his re%ious
duties, but when pronounced on the point of death,
and believing firmly that he was dying, be would
not have his priest administer extreme unction, for
the room was in such a filthy and revolting state
he would not allow him to see it. Five men
worked and slept in that room, and they were
working and sleeping there in the man's illness —
all the time that his life was despaired of. He was
ill nine weeks. Unless the worUng shoemaker
lodged there he would not be employed. Bach
man pays 2s. a week. I was there once, but I
couldn't sleep in such a den ; and five nights out
of the seven I slept at my mother's, but my lodg-
ing had to be paid all the same. These men
(myself excepted) were all Irish, and all tee-

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

86

totalleriy at wai the master. How often waa
the Toom cleaned cot, do you tay ? Nerer, sir,
neTer. The refbae of the men's labour waa gene-
rally hnmty imudged away in the grate, amelling
teiTibly. It wonid stifle you, thouih it didn't me,
becaoae I got naed to it. I lodged m Union-street
once. My employer had a room known aa the
' bairacka ^ ewerj lodger paid him 2s, 6d, a week.
Fire men woriced and alept there, and three were
siUen — that ia, men who paid Is. a week to ait
there and work, lodging elsewhere. A little be-
fore that there were aix aitters. The furniture
waa one table, one chair, and two beda. There
waa no place for purposes of decency : it fell to
bits from decay, and was never repaired. This
barrack man always stopped the 2s, 6d, for lodg-
ing, if he gare you only that amount of work in
the week. The beds were decent enough ; but
as to Monmouth-street ! you don't see a clean
sheet there for nine weeks ; and, recollect, such
snobs are dirty fellows. There was no chair in
the Monmouth-street room that I have spoken of,
the men haying only their seats used at work ;
but when the ^ds were let down for the night,
the seats had to be placed in the fire-place because
there was no space for them in the room. In
many houses in Monmouth-street there is a sys-
tem of sub-letting among the journeymen. In one
room lodged a man and his wife (a laundress
worked Acre), four children, and two single
yooDg men. The wife was actually delivered in
this room whilst the men kept at their work —
they never lost an hour's work ; nor is this an
unasnal case — it 's not an isolateid case at alL I
could instance ten or twelve cases of two or three
married people living in one room in that street.
The rats have scampered over tlie beds that lay
huddled together in the kitchen. The husband of
the wife confined ns I liave described paid 4s. a
week, and the two single men paid 2s. a week each,
•0 the master was rent free ; and he received from
each man Is. 6<t a week fur tea (without sugar),
and no bread and butter, and 2d, a day for pota-
toes— that 's the regukr charge."

In connection with the translation of old boots
and shoes, I have obtained the following statistics.
There

In Drary4sne and streets adjaceat, about .... fiO shops.

SeTcn-dlals do. do. .... 100 do.

MoDinouth-stTeet do. do 40 do.

Hasway-court, Oxfotd-stieet do. — 4 do.

UaoD-f(fove do. do 100 do.

PaddingtOQ do. do. .... 30 do.

I'sttkoat-lane (shops. stands, &e.) do. .... auo do.

StooMT^^town do. do fiO do.

FMd-kme, SalTron-hiU do 40 do.

QtrlmweU do 30 do.

BcUnul-green, SpiUiaelds du. .... 100 do.

NossDMry-lane, dec. do 30 do.

774 shops,

^ploying upwards of 2000 men in making-up
tnd repairing old boots and shoes ; besides hun-
dreds of poor men and women who strive for a
enist by buying and selling the old material, pre-
▼ionsly to translating it, and by mending up what
will mend. They or their children stand in the
itieet and try to sell them.

Monmouth-atreet, now the great old ahoe dis-
trict, has been " sketched" by Mr. Dickens, not as
regards its connection with the subject of street-
sale or of any particukr trade, but as to its
general character and appearance. I first dte Mr.
Dickens' description of the Seven Dials, of which
Monmouth-atreet ia a aeventh : —

"The atranger who finds himself in 'The Dials'
for the first time, and stands, Belsoni-like, at the
entrance of seven obscure passages, uncertain
which to take, will see enough around him to
keep his curiosity and attention awake for no
inconsiderable time. From the irreguhir square
into which he has plunged, the streets and courts
dart in all directions, until they are lost in the
unwholesome vapour which hangs over the house-
tops, and renders the dirty perspective uncertain
and confined ; and, lounging at every comer, as if
they came there to take a few gasps of such fresh
air as has found its way so far, but is too much
exhausted already, to be enabled to force itself
into the narrow alleys around, are groups of
people, whose appearance and dwellings would fill
any mind but a regular Londoner's wit^ astonish-
ment.

" In addition to the numerous groups who are
idling about the gin-ahopa and aquabbling in the
centre of the road, every poat in the open space
has its occupant, who leans against it for hours,
with listless perseverance. It is odd enough that
one class of men in London appear to have no
enjoyment beyond leaning against posts. We
never saw a regular brickkyer's labourer take any
other recreation, fighting excepted. Pass through
St. Giles'a in the evening of a week-day, there
they are in their fuatian dreaaea, apotted with
brick-dust and whitewaah, leaning againat poata.
Walk through Seven Diala on Sunday morning :
there they are again, drab or light corduroy
trowsers, Blucher boots, blue coats, and great
yellow waistcoats, leaning against posts. The
idea of a man dressing himself in his best clothes,
to lean against a post all day I

" The peculiar character of these streets, and
the close resemblance each one bean to its neigh-
bour, by no means tends to decrease the bewilder-
ment in which the unexperienced wayfarer through
' the Dials * finds himself involved. He travenes
streeU of dirty, straggling houses, with now and
then an unexpected court, composed of buildings
as ill-proportioned and deformed as the half-naked
children that wallow in the kennels. Here and
there, a little dark chandler's shop, with a cracked
bell hung up behind the door to announce the en-
trance of a customer, or betray the pretence of
some young gentleman in whom a passion for shop
tills has developed itself at an early age; othen,
as if for support, against some handsome lofty
building, which usurps the place of a low dingy
public-house; long rows of broken and patched
windows expose plants that may have flourished
when ' The Dials' were built, in vessels as dirty
as 'The Dials' themselves; and shops for the
purchase of rags, bones, old iron, and kitchen-
stufij vie in cleanliness with the bird-fanciers and
rabbit-dealen, which one might fiucy so many

86

LONDON LABOUR AND TBK LONDON FOOR,

arki, but for the irresittible conYiction that no
bird in its proper seniet, who was permitted to
leave one of them would ever come back again.
Brokers' shops, which would seem to have been
established by humane individuals, as refuges for
destitute bugs, interspersed with annouucemeuts
of day-schools, penny theatres, petition-writers,
mangles, and music for balls or routs, complete the
' still-life ' of the subject ; and dirty men, filthy
women, squalid children, fluttering shuttlecocks,
noisy battledores, reeking pipes, bad fruit, more
than doubtful oysters, attenuated cats, depressed
dogs, and anatomical fowls, are its cheerful accom-
paniments.

" If the external appearance of the houses, or
a glance at their inhabitants, present but few at-
tractions, a closer acquaintance with either is little
calculated to alter one's first impression. Kvery
room has its separate tenant, and every tenant is,
by the same mysterious dispensation which causes
a country curate to ' increase and multiply' most
marvellously, generally the head of a numerous
family.

" The man in the shop, perhaps, is in the baked
'jemmy' line, or the fire- wood and hearth-stone
line, or any other line which requires a floating
capital of eighteen pence or thereabouts : and he
and his family live in the shop, and the small back
parlour behind it. Then there is an Irish la-
bourer and Aw family Jn the back kitchen, and
a jobbing-man — ca^pe^beater and so forth —
wiih hi* family, in the front one. In the front
one pair there 's another man with another wife
and fiunily, and in the back one-pair there 's ' a
young 'oman as takes in tambour-work, and
dresses quite genteel,' who talks a good deal
about ' my friend,' and can't ' abear anything low.'
The second floor front, and the rest of the lodgers,
are just a second edition of the people below, ex-
cept a fthabby-genteel man in the back attic, who
has his half-pint of colfee every morning from the
coflfee-shop next door but one, which boasts a little
front den called a coffee-room, wiih a tire-place,
over which is an inscription, politely requesting
that, * to prevent mistakes,' customers will * please
to pay on delivery.' The shabby-genteel man is
an object of some mystery, but vl^ he leads a life
of seclusion, and never was known to buy any-
tliing beyond an occasional pen, except half- pints
of coffee, penny loaves, and ha'porths of ink, his
fellow-lodgers very naturally suppose him to bo an
author; and rumours are current in the Dial«,
that he writes poems for Mr. Warren.

" Now any body who passed through the Dials
on a hot summer's evening, and saw the different
women of the house gossiping on the steps, would
be apt to think that all was harmony among them,
and that a more primitive set of people than the
native Diallers could not be imagined. Alas ! the
man in the shop ill treats his family ; the carpet-
beater extends his professional pursuits to his wife ;
the one-pair front has an undying feud with the
two-pair front, in consequence of the two-pair
front persisting in dancing over his (the one-pair
front's) head, when he and his &mily have retired
for the night; the two-pair back will interfere

with the front kitchen's children; tht
comes home drank every other night, ftnd aUacka
every body ; and the one-pair back screams at
everything. Animosities spring up betwaen floor
and floor; the very celUr asseru his equality.
Mrs. A. 'smacks' Mrs. B.'s child for 'nmiung
faces.' Mrs. B. forthwith throws cold water over
Mrs. A.'s child for ' calling names.' The husbands
are embroiled — the quarrel beoomef gentiai — an
assault is the consequence, and a police-officer the
result."

Of Monmonth-street the sama author says : —

** Wo have always entertained a particular
attachment towards Monmouth-street, as the only
true and real emporium for second-hand wearing
apparel. Monmouth-street is Yenerable from iU
antiquity, and respectable from its usefulneis.
Holy well-street we despise ; the red-headed and
red-whiskered Jews who forcibly haul you into
their squalid houses, and thrust you into a suit of
clothes whether you will or not, we detest.

" The inhabitants of Monmouth-street are a
distinct class; a peaceable and retiring race^ who
immure themselves for the most part in deep
cellars, or small back parlours, and who seldom
come forth into the world, except in the dusk and
coolness of evening, when they may be tesn
seated, in chairs on the pavement, smoking their
pipes, or watching the gambols of their engaging
children as they revel in the gutter, a happy troop
of infantine scavengers. Their countenances bear
a thoughtful and a dirty cast, certain indications
of their love of traffic ; and their habitations are
distinguished by that disregard of outward ap-
pearance, and neglect of persqnal comfort, so
common among people who are constantly im-
mersed in profound spccuUtions, and deeply en-
gaged in sedentary pursuits.

" Through every alteration and every change
Monmouth-street has still remained the burial-
place of the fashions ; and such, to judge from all
present appearances, it will remain until there are
no more tiashions to bury."

^ Of tus Stbeet-Sellebs of Petticoat ahp

BuriEMAfiY-LAliES.

Immediately connected with the trade of the
central mart for old clothes are the adjoining streets
of Petticoat-lane, and those of the not very die*
tint Rosemary-lane. In these localities is a
second-hand g.irmcnt-seller at almost everr step,
but the whole stock of these traders, decent,
frowsy, half-rotten, or smart and good hobilments,
has first passed through the channel of the Bx-
change. The men who sell these goods have all
bought them at the Exchange — Uie exceptions
being insignificant— so that this street-sale is bat
an extension of the trade of the central msrt,
with the addition that the wares have been made
ready for use.

A cursory observation might lead an inexpe-
rienced person to the conclusion, that these old
clothes traders who arc standing by the bundles of
gowns, or lines of coats, hanging from their door-
posts, or in the place from which the window has
been removed, or at the sides of their houses, or

LONDON LABOUR AND THB LONDON POOR.

87

inled in the street before them, are drowsy people,
for they aeem to tit among |their property, lost
in thought, or caring only for the fames of a
pipe. But let any one indicate, even by an ap-
proTing ghraoe, the likelihood of his becoming a
customer, and see if there be any lack of diligence
in business. Some, indeed, pertinaciously invite
attention to their wares ; some (and often well-
dressed women) leave their premises a few yards
to accost a stranger pointing to a '' good dress-
coat ** or *'an excellent frock" (coat). I am told
that this practice is less pursued than it was, and
it seems that the solicitations are now addressed
chiefly to strangers. These strangers, persons
happening to be passing, or visitors from curiosity,
are at once recognised ; for as in all not very ex-
tended hicalities, where the inhabitants pursue a
abniiar calling, they are, as regards their know-
ledge of one another, as the members of one
fiunily. Thus a stranger is as easily recognised
as he would be in a little rustic hamlet where
« strange fiue is not seen once a quarter.
Indeed so narrow are some of the streets and
alleys in this quarter, and so little is there of
privacy, owing to the removal, in warm weather,
oven of the casements, that the room is com-
nandod in all its domestic details ; and as among
these details there is generally a further display of
goods similar to the articles outside, the jammed-
np places really look like a great family house
with merely a sort of channel, dignified by the
name of a street, between the right and left suites
of apartments.

In one off-street, where on a Sunday there is a
considerable demand for Jewish sweet-meats by
Christian boys, and a little sly, and perhaps not
very successM gambling on the part of the in-
genuous youth to possess themselves of these con-
fectionaries at the easiest rate, there are some
mounds of builders' rubbish upon which, if an in-
quisitive person ascended, he could command the
details of the upper roomn, probably the bed
chambers — if in their crowded apartments these
traders can find spaces for beds.

It must not be supposed that old clothes are
more than the great staple of the traffic of this
district. Wherever persons are assembled there
are certain to be purveyors of provisions and of
cool or hot drinks for warm or cold weather. The
interior of the Old Clothes Exchange has its
oyster-stall, its fomitain of ginger-beer, its coffee-
house, and ale-house, and a troop of peripatetic
traders, boys principally, carrying trays. Outside
the walls of the Exchange this trade is still
thicker. A Jew boy thrusts a tin of highly-glazed
cakes and pastry under the people's noses here ;
and on the other side a basket of oranges regales
the same sense by its proximity. At the next
Btep the thoroughfare is interrupted by a gaudy-
Woking ginger-beer, lemonade, raspberryade, and*
nectar fountain ; '' a halfpenny a glass, a halfpenny
t glass, sparkling lemonade ! " shouts the vendor
u you pass. The fountain and the glasses glitter
in the sun, the varnish of the wood-work shines,
the lemonade really does sparkle, and all looks
dean — except the owner. Close by is a brawny

^No^ XXIX. [

young Irishman, his red beard unshorn for per-
haps ten days, and his neck, where it had been
exposed to the weather, a far deeper red than his
beard, and he is carrying a small basket of nuts,
and selling them as gravely as if they were articles
suited to his strength. A little lower is the cry,
in a woman's voice, " Fish, fried fish ! Ha'penny ;
fish, fried fish ! " and so monotonously and me-
chanically is it ejaculated that one might think
the seller's life was passed in uttering these few
words, even as a nx^'s is in crying " Caw, caw."
Here I saw a poor Irishwoman who had a child
on her back buy a piece of this fish (which may
be had " hot " or " cold "), and tear out a piece
with her teeth, and this with all the eagerness and
relish of appetite or hunger; first eating the
brown outside and then sucking the bone. I never
saw fish look firmer or whiter. That fried fish is
to be procured is manifest to more senses than
one, for you can hear the sound of its being fried,
and smell the fumes from the oil. In an open
window opposite frizsle on an old tray, small
pieces of thinly-cut meat, with a mixture of
onions, kept hot by being placed over an old pan
containing charcoal. In another room a mess of
batter is smoking over a fjuxe. " Penny a lot,
oysters," resounds from different parts. Some of
the sellers command two streets by establishing
their stalls or tubs at a comer. Lads pass, carry-
ing sweet-stuff on trays. I observed one very
dark-eyed Hebrew boy chewing the hard-bake he
vended — if it were not a substitute — with an ex-
pression of great enjoyment Heaped up trays
of fresh-looking sponge-cakes are carried in tempt-
ing pyramids. Youths have stocks of large hard-
looking biscuits, and walk aboutcrying, "Ha'penny
biscuits, ha'penny ; three a penny, biscuits ; "
these, with a morsel of cheese, often supply a
dinner or a luncheon. Dates and figs, as dry as
they are cheap, constitute the stock in trade of
other street-sellers. " Coker-nuts " are sold in
pieces and entire j the Jew boy, when he invites
to the purchase of an entire nut, shaking it at
the ear of the customer. I was told by a coster-
monger that these juveniles had a way of drum-
ming with their fingers on the shell so as to
satisfy a ** green " customer that the nut offered
was a sound one.

Such are the summer eatables and drinkables
which I have lately seen vended in the Petticoat-
lane district. In winter there are, as long as day-
light lasts— and in no other locality perhaps does
it last BO short a time— other street provisions,
and, if possible, greater zeal in selling them, the
hours of business being circumscribed. There is
then the potato-can and the hot elder-wine appa-
ratus, and smoking pies and puddings, and roasted
apples and chestnuts, and walnuts, and the several
fruits which ripen in the autumn — apples, pears,
&c.

Hitherto I have spoken only of such eatables
and drinkables as are ready for consumption, but
to these the trade in the Petticoat-lane district
is by no means confined. There is fresh fish,
generally of the cheaper kinds, and smoked or
dried fish (smoked salmon, moreover, is sold ready

38

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

cooked), and coBtermongen' barrows, with their
loads of green vegetables, looking almost out of
place amidst the surrounding dinginess. The cries
of " Fine cauliflowers," " Lar^ penny cabbages,"
" Eight a shilling, mackarel," " Eels, live eels,"
mix strangely with the hubbub of the busier
street

Other street-sellers also abound. You meet one
man who says mysteriously, and rather bluntly,
''Buy a good knife, goTemor." His tone is re*
markable, and if it attract attention, he may hint
that he has smuggled goods which he mvit sell
anyhow. Such men, I am told, look out mostly
for seamen, who often resort to Petticoat-lane;
for idle men like sailors on shore, and idle uncul-
tivated men often love to lounge where there is
bustle. Pocket nnd pen knives and scissors,
" Penny a piece, penny a pair," rubbed over with
oil, both to hide nnd prevent rust, are carried on
trays, and spread on stalls, some stalls consisting
of merely a tea-chest lid on a stool. Another
man, carrying perhaps a sponge in his hand, and
well-dressed, asks yon, in a subdued voice, if you
want a good razor, as if he almost suspected that
you meditated suicide, and were looking out for
the means ! This is another ruse to introduce
smuggled (or "duffer's") goods. Account-books
are hawked. ** Penny-a-quire," shouts the itinerant
street stationer (who, if questioned, always de-
clares he said ** Penny half quire "). ** Stockings,
stockings, two pence a pair." '* Here *8 your
chewl-ry ; penny, a penny ; pick 'em and choose
'em." ri may remark that outside the window
of one shop, or rather parlour, if there be any such
distinction here, I saw the handsomest, as far as
I am able to judge, nnd the best cheap jewellery I
ever saw in the streets.] ** Pencils, sir, pencils ;
steel-pens, steelpcns ; ha'penny, penny ; pencils,
steel-pens ; sealing-wax, wax, wnx, wax ! " shouts
one, " Qreen peas, ha'penny a pint ! " cries another.

These things, however, are but the accompani-
ments of the main traffic. But as such things
accompany all traffic, not on a small scale, and
may be found in almost every metropolitan tho-
roughfare, where the police are not required, by
the householders, to interfere, I will point out, to
show the distinctive chnracter of the street-trade
in this part, what is not sold and not encouraged.
I saw no old books. There were no flowers ; no
music, which indeed could not be heard except at
the outskirts of the din ; and no beggars plying
their vocation among the trading class.

Another peculiarity pertaining alike to this shop
and street locality is, that everything is at the veriest
minimum of price ; though it may not be asked, it
will assuredly be taken. The bottle of lemonade
which is elsewhere a penny is here a halfpenny.
The tarts, which among the street-sellers about the
Eoyal Exchange are a halfpenny each, nre here
a farthing. When lemons nre two a-pcnny in
St. (Jeorge's-market, Oxford-street, as the long
line of street stalls towards the western extremity
is called— they nre three and four a-penny in
Petticoat and Rosemary laues. Certainly there
is a difference in size between the dearer and the
cheaper tarts and lemons, and perhaps there is a

difference in quality also, but the rule of a mini-
mized cheapness hat no exceptions in this cheap-
trading quarter.

But Petticoat-lane is essentially the old clothei
district Embracing the streets and alleys adja-
cent to Petticoat-lane, and including the rows of
old boots and shoes on the ground, there it
perhaps between two and three miles of old clothes.
Petticoat-lane proper is longand narrow, and to look
down it is to look down a vista of many coloured
garments, alike on the sides and on the ground. The
effect sometimes is very striking, firom the variety
of hues, and the constant flitting, or gathering, of
the crowd into little groups of bargainers. Gowns
of every shade and every pattern are hanging up,
but none, perhaps, look either bright or white ; it
is a vista of dinginess, but many coloured dingi-
ness, as regards female attire. Dress coats, frock
coats, great coats, livery and game-keepers' coats,
paletots, tunics, trowsers, knee-breeches, waist-
coats, capes, pilot coats, working jackets, plaids,
hats, dressing gowns, shirts, Guernsey frocks, are
all displayed. The predominaut colours are black
and blue, but there is every colour ; the light drab
of some aristocratic livery ; the dull brown-green
of velveteen ; the deep blue of a pilot jacket ; the
variegated figures of the shawl dressing-gown ; the
glossy black of the restored garments j the shine
of newly turpentined black satin waistcoaU ; the
scarlet and green of some flaming tartan; these
things — ^mixed with the hues of the women's
garments, spotted and striped — certainly present
a scene which cannot be beheld in any other part
of the greatest city of the world, nor in any other
portion of the world itself.

The ground has also its array of colours. It is
covered with lines of boots and shoes, their shining
black relieved here and there by the admixture
of females' boots, with drab, green, plum or
lavender-coloured " legs," as the upper part of the
boot is always called in the trade. There is, too,
an admixture of men's " button-boots" with drab
cloth legs ; and of a few red, yellow, and russet
coloured slippers ; and of children's coloured mo-
rocco boots and shoes. Handkerchiefs, sometimes
of a gaudy orange pattern, are heaped on a chair.
Lace and muslins occupy small stands or are
spread on the ground. Black and drab and straw
hats are hung up, or piled one upon another and
kept from falling by means of strings ; while, in-
cessantly threading their way through all this
intricacy, is a mass of people, some of whose
dresses speak of a recent purchase in the lane.

I have said little of the shopkeepers of Petti-
coat-lane, nor is it requisite for the full elucida-
tion of my present subject (which relates more
especially to slrefttaU), that I should treat of
them otherwise than as being in a great degree
connected with street-trade. They stand in the
street (in front of their premises), they trade in
the street, they smoke and read the papers in the
street ; and indeed the greater part of their lives
seems passed in the street, for, as I have elsewhere
remarked, the Saturday's or Sabbath's recreation
to some of them, after synagogue hours, seems to
be to stand by their doors looking about them.

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

89

In the earlier periods of the day — the Jewish
Sabbath excepted, when there is no market at all
in Petticoat-lane, not even among the Irish and
other old clothes people, or a mere nothing of a
market — the goods of these shops seem consigned
to the care of the wives and female members of the
frmilies of the proprietors. The Old Clothes Ex-
change, like other places known by the name —
the Boyal Exchange, for example — has its daily
season of "high change." This is, in summer,
from about half-post two to five, in winter, from
two to four o'clock. At those hours the crock-
man, and the bartering costermonger, and the Jew
collector, have sought the Exchange with their
respective bargains; and business there, and in the
whole district, is at its fullest tide. Before this
hour the master of the shop or siwe (the latter
may be the more appropriate word) is absent
buying, collecting, or transacting any business
which requires him to leave home. It is curious
to observe how, during this absence, the women,
but with most wary eyes to the business, sit in
the street carrying on their domestic occupations.
Some, with their young children about them, are
sbellipg peas; some arc trimming vegetables;
some plying their needles ; some of the smaller
traders' wives, as well as the street-sellers with a
"pitch,** are eating dinners out of basins (laid
aside when a customer approaches), and occasion-
ally some may be engaged in what Mrs. Trollope
has called (in noticing a similar procedure in the
boxea of an American theatre) "the most maternal
of all offices." The females I saw thus occupied
were principally Jewesses, for though those re-
sorting to the Old Clothes Exchange and its con-
comitant branches may be but one-fourth Jews,
more than half of the remainder being Irish
people, the householders or shopkeepers of the
locality when capital is needed, are generally
Israelites.

It must be borne in mind that, in describing
Petticoat-lane, I have described it as seen on a
fine summer's day, when the business is at its
. height. Until an hour or two after midday the
district is quiet, and on very rainy days its aspect
is sufficiently lamentable, for then it appears
actually deserted. Perhaps on a winter's Saturday
night — as the Jewish Sabbath terminates at sun-
set— the scene may be the most striking of all.
The flaring lights from uncovered gas, from fat-
fed lamps, from the paper-shaded candles, and the
many ways in which the poorer street-folk throw
some illumination over their goods, produce a
multiplicity of lights and shadows, which, thrown
and blended over the old clothes hanging up along
the line of street, cause them to auume mysterious
forms, and if the wind be high make them, as they
are blown to and fro, look more mysterious still.

On one of my visits to Petticoat-lane I saw
two foreign Jews — from Smyrna I was informed.
An old street-seller told me he believed it was
their first visit to the district. But, new as the
scene might be to them, they looked on impas-
sively at all they saw. They wore the handsome
nd peculiar dresses of their country. A glance
iras cast after them by the Petticoat-lane people.

but that was all. In the Strand they would have
attracted considerable attention ; not a few heads
would have been turned back to gaze after them ;
but it seems that only to those who may possibly
be customers is any notice paid in Petticoat-lane.

BOSXXART-LAKS.

KosEMART-LANB, which has in vain been re-
christened Royal Mint-street, is from half to three-
quarters of a mile long — that is, if we include
only the portion which runs from the junction of
Leman and Dock streets ^near the London Docks)
to Sparrow-corner, where it abuts on the Minories.
Beyond the Leman-street termination of Rose-
mary-lane, and stretching on into Shadwell, are
many streets of a similar character as regards the
street and shop supply of articles to the poor;
but as the old clothes trade is only occasionally
carried on there, I shall here deal with Rosemary-
lane proper.

This lane partakes of some of the characteris-
tics of Petticoat-lane, but without its so strongly
marked peculiarities. Rosemary-lane is wider and
airier, the houses on each side are loftier (in se-
veral parts), and there is an approach to a gin
palace, a thing unknown in Petticoat-lane : there
is no room for such a structure there.

Rosemary-lane, like the quarter I have last
described, has its off-streets, into which the traffic
stretches. Some of these off-streets are narrower,
dirtier, poorer in all respects than Rosemary-lane
itself, which indeed can hardly be stigmatized as
very dirty. These are Glasshouse-street, Rus-
sell-court, Hairbrine-court, Parson's-court, Blue
Anchor-yard (one of the poorest places and with
a half-built look), Darby-street, Cartwright-street,
Peter's-court, Princes-street, Queen-street, and be-
yond these and in the direction of the Minories,
Rosemary-lane becomes Sharp's-buildings and
Sparrow-corner. There are other small non-
thoroughfare courts, sometimes called blind alleys,
to which no name is attached, but which are very
well known to the neighbourhood as Union-court,
&c. ; but as these arc not scenes of street-traffic,
although they may bo the abodes of street-traf-
fickers, they require no especial notice.

The dwellers in the neighbourhood or the off-
streets of Rosemary-lane, differ from those of
Petticoat-lane by the proximity of the former
place to the Thames. The lodgings here are
occupied by dredgers, ballast-heavers, coal- whip-
pers, watermen, lumpers, and others whose trade
is connected with the river, as well as the slop-
workers and sweaters working for the Minories.
The poverty of these workers compels them to
lodge wherever the rent of the rooms is the
lowest. As a few of the wives of the balkst-
heavers, &c., are street-sellers in or about Rose-
mary-lane, the locality is often sought by them.
About Petticoat-lane the off-streets are mostly
occupied by the old clothes merchants.

In Rosemary-lane is a greater itreet-im^e, as
regards things placed on the ground for retail sale,
&c., than in Petticoat-lane ; for though the traffic
in the last-mentioned lane is by far the greatest,
it is more connected with the shops, and fewer

40

LONDON LABOUR AND TUB LONDON POOR,

traden whose dealings are strictly those of the
street alone resort to it. Rosemary-lane, too, is
more Irish. There are some cheap lodging-houses
in the courts, &c., to which the poor Irish flock ;
and as they are very frequently st^ee^sel]er8, on
busy days the quarter abounds with them. At every
step you hear the Erse tongue, and meet with the
Irish physiognomy ; Jews and Jewesses are also i
seen in the street, and they abound in the shops.
The stree^traffic does not begin until about one
o'clock, except as regards the vegetable, fish, and
oyster-stalls, &c.; but the chief businesa of this ,
lane, which is as inappropriately as that of Petti- '
coat is suitably named, is in the vending of the
articles which have often been thrown aside as
refuse, but from which numbers in London wring
an existence.

One side of the lane is covered with old boots
and shoes ; old clothes, both men's, women's, and
children's ; new lace for edgings, and a variety of
cheap prints and muslins (also new); bats and
bonnets; pots, and often of the commonest kinds;
tins ; old knives and forks, old scissors, and old
metal articles generally ; here and there is a stall
of cheap bread or American^ cheese, or what is
announced as American ; old glass ; dillerent de-
scriptions of second-hand furniture of th^ smaller
sise, such as children's chairs, bellows, &c. Mixed
with these, but only very scantily, are a few bright-
looking swag-barrows, with china ornaments, toys,
&c. Some of the wares are spread on the ground
on wrappers, or pieces of matting or carpet ; and
some, as the poU, are occasionally placed on straw.
The cotton prints are often heaped on the ground;
where are also ranges or heaps of boots and shoes,
and piles of old clothes, or hats, or umbrellas.
Other traders place their goods on stalls or bar-
rows, or over an old chair or clothes-horse. And
amidst all this motley display the buyers and
sellers smoke, and shout, and doze, and bargain,
and wrangle, and eat and drink tea and coffee,
and sometimes beer. Altogether Rosemary-lane is
more of a tlreet market than is Petticoat-lnne.

This district, like the one I have first described,
is infested with young thieves and vagrants from
the neighbouring lodging-houses, who may be seen
running about, often bare-footed, bare-necked, and
shirtless, but " larking " one with another, and
what may be best understood as *^ full of fun."
In what way these lads dispose of their plunder,
and how their plunder is in any wny connected
with the trade of these parts, I shall show in my
account of the Thieves. One pickpocket told me
that there was no person whom he delighted so
much to steal from as any Tetticoat-laner with
whom he had professional dealings 1

In Rosemary- lane there is a busy Sunday morn-
ing trade; there is a street-trade, also, on the
Saturday afternoons, but the greater part of the
shops are then closed, and the Jews do not parti-
cipate in the commerce until after sunset.

The two maru I have thus fully described differ
from all other street-markets, for in these two |
second-hand garments, and second-hand merchan-
dize generally (although but in a small proportion),
are the grand staple of the traffic. At the other

street-markets^ the aecond-hand commerce if the
exception.

Ov THB Stbsxt-Selleiui ov Mu's Ssooxp-

HAliD CLOTBEa.

Ih the following accounta of street-selling, 1 1
not mix up any account of the retailers' modes of
buying, collecting, repairing, or " restoring" these*
cond-hand garments, otherwise than incidentally. I
have already sketched the systems pursued, and
more will have to be said concerning them under the
head of Street-Butkrs. Neither have I thought
it necessary, in the further accounts I have col-
lected, to confine myself to the trade carried on in
the Petticoat and Rosemary-lane districts. The
greater portion relates to those places, but my aim,
of course, is to give an account which will show
the chnracter of the second-band trade of the me-
tropolis generally.

** People should remember," said an intelligent
shoemaker (not a street-seller) with whom I had
some conversation about cobbling for the streets,
"that such places as Rosemary-lane have their
uses this way. But for them a very poor indus-
trious widow, say, with only 2d. or %d, to spare,
couldn't get a pair of shoes for her child ; whereas
now, for 2d. or 3(/., she can get them there, of
some sort or other. There 's a sort of decency,
too, in wearing shoes. And what 's more, sir —
for I 've bought old coats and other clothes in Rose-
mary-lane, both for my own wear and my fiuniiy's,
and know something about it — how is a poor crea-
ture to get such a decency as a petticoat for a poor
little girl, if she 'd only a penny, unless there were
such places V

In the present state of the very poor, it may be
that such places as those described have, on the
principle that half a loaf is better than no bread,
their benefits. But whether the state of things in
which an industrious widow, or a host of in-
dustrious persons, can, spare but Id. for a child's
clothing (and nothing, perhaps, for their own), is
one to be lauded in a Christian country, is another
question, fraught with grave political and social
considerations.

The man from whom I received the following
account of the sale of men's wearing apparel was
apparently between 80 and 40 years of age. His
face presented something of the Jewish physio-
gnomy, but he was a Christian, he said, though ho
never had time to go to church or chapel, and
Sunday was often a busy day ; besides, a man
must live as others in his wny lived. He had
been connected with the sale of old clothes all
his life, as were his parents, so that his existence
bad been monotonous enough, for he had never
been more than five miles, he thought, from
Whitechapel, the neighbourhood where he was
born. In winter he liked a concert, and was fond
of a hand at cribbage, but he didn't care for the
play. His goods he sometimes spread on the
ground — at other times he had a stall or a '* horse "
(clothes-horse).

" My customers," he said, "are nearly all
working people, some of them very poor, and
with large families. For anything I know, i

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

41

of them worki with their heads, though, as well,
and not their hands, fur I 've noticed that their
hands is smallish and seems smoothish, and suits
a tight sleeve very well. I don't know what
they are. How should II I asks no questions,
and they '11 tell me no fibs. To such as them I
sell coats mostly; indeed, yery little else. They *re
often Tery perticler about the fit, and often asks,
'Does it look as if it was made for meV Some-
times they is seedy, very seedy, and comes to
such as me, most likely, 'cause we're cheaper
than the shops. They don't like to try things on
in the street, and I c;in always take a decent
customer, or one as looks sich, in there, to try on
(pointing to a coii^e-shop). Bob-tailed coats
(dres»-coats) is far the cheapest. I 'vc sold them
as low as 1j., bat not often; at 2«. and 8«. often
enough ; and sometimes as high as 5«. Perhaps
a 8«. or 3«. 6<2. coat goes off as well as any, but
bob-tailed coats is little asked for. Now, I've
never had a frock (surtout or frock coat), as well
as I can remember, under 2$, Bd., except one that
stuck by me a long time, and I sold it at last for
20d., which was 2d. leas than what it cost It
was only a poor thing, in course, but it had such
a rum-coloured velvet collar, that was faded, and
had had a bit let in, and was all sorts of shades,
and that hindered its selling, I fancy. Velvet
collars isn't worn now, and I 'm glad of it. Old
coats goes better with their own collars (collars of
the same cloth as the body of the coat). For
frocks, I 've got as much as 7«. 6(2., and cheap at
it too, sir. Well, perhaps (laughing) at an odd
time they wasn't so very cheap, but that 's all in
the way of trade. About it. 6d. or 5s. is perhaps
the ticket that a frock goes off best at. It's
working people that buys frocks most, and oflcn
working people's wives or mothers — that is as far
as I knows. They 're capital judges as to what '11
fit their men; and if they satisfy me it's all right,
I 'm always ready to undertake to change it for
another if it don't fit 0, no, I never agree to
I give back the money if it don't fit; in course
not; that wouldn't be business.

** No, sir, we 're very little troubled with people
larking. I have had young fellows come, half
drank, even though it might be Sunday morning,
and say, * Gnv'ner, what '11 you give me to wear
that coat for you, and show off your cutl* We
don't stand much of their nonsense. I don't
know what sach coves are. Perhaps 'torneys'
joomeymen, or pot-boys out for a Sunday morn-
ing's spree." [This was said with a bitterness
I that surprised me in so quiet-speaking a man.]
** In greatcoats and cloaks I don't do much, but
it's a very good sale when you can offer them
I well worth the money. I've got lOt. often for
a greatcoat, and higher and lower, oftener
' lower in course ; but lOi. is about the card for a
I good thing. It 'i the like with cloaks. Paletots
I don't sell well. They're mostly thinner and
' poorer cloth to begin with at the tailors — them
' new-&shioned named things often is so — and so
they show when hard worn. Why no, sir, they can
be done up, certainly; anything can be touched
op; bat they get thiiii you see, and there's no-

thinK to work upon as there is in a gt)od cloth
greatcoat. You '11 excuse me, sir, but I saw you
a little bit since take one of them thete square
books that a man gives away to people coming
this way, as if to knock up the second-hand
business, but he won't, thongh ; I '11 tell you how
them slops, if they come more into wear, is sure
to injure us. If people gets to wear them low-
figured things, more and more, as they possibly
may, why where 's the second-hand things to
come from] I'm not a tailor, but I understand!
about clothes, and I believe that no person ever
saw anything green in my eye. And if you find
a slop thing marked a guinea, I don't care what
it is, but I '11 undertike that you shall get one
that '11 wear longer, and look better to the very
last, second-hand, at less than half the money,
plenty less. It was good stuff and good make at
first, and hasn't been abused, and that's the
reason why it always bangs a slop, because it wIm
good to begin with.

" Trousers sells pretty well. I sell them, cloth
ones, from 6d. up to it. They're cheaper if
they 're not cloth, but very seldom less or so low
as Qd. Yes, the cloth ones at that is poor worn
things, and little things too. They 're not men's,
they 're youth's or boy's size. Good strong cords
goes off very well at It. and It. Qd., or higher.
Irish bricklayers buys them, and paviours, arid
such like. It's easy to fit a man with a pair of
second-hand trousers. I can tell by his build
what '11 fit him directly. Tweeds and summer
trousers is middling, but washing things sells
worse and worse. It's an expense, and eipenses
don't suit my customers — not a bit of it

*' Waistcoats isn't in no great call. They 're
often worn very hard under any sort of a tidy
coat, for a tidy coat can be buttoned over any-
thing that's 'dicky,' and so, you see, many of
'em 's half-way to the rag-shop before they comes
to us. Well, I 'm sure I can hardly say what
sort of people goes most for weskets " [so he pro-
nounced it]. " If they're light, or there's any-
thing'fancy' about them, I thinks it's mothers
as makes them up for their sons. What with the
strings at the back and such like, it aint hard to
make a wesket fit. They 're poor people as
buys certainly, but genteel people buys such things
as fancy weskets, or how do you suppose they d
all be got through ? 0, there 's ladies comes here
for a bargain, I can tell you, and gentlemen, too ;
and many on 'em would go through fire for one.
Second-hand satins (waistcoau) is good Still, but
they don't fetch the tin they did. I 've sold wes-
kets from l^d. to it. Well, it's hard to say
what the three-ha'pennies is made of ; all sorts of
things ; we calls them ' serge.' Three-pence is a
common price for a little wesket There's no
nnder-wesketi wanted now, and there 's no rolling
colkrs. It was better for us when there was, as
there was more stuff to work on. The double-
breasted gets scarcer, too. Fashions grows to be
cheap things now-a-days.

" I can't tell you anything about knee-breeches ;
they don't come into my trade, and they 're never
asked for* Qaiten ia no go either. Liveriee isn't

42

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

I

a street-trade. I fancy all thote lort of thingi
if lent abroad. I don't know where. Perhaps
where people doesn't know they was liveries. I
wouldn t wear an old livery coat, if it was the
Queen's, for five bob. I don't think wearing one
woald binder trade. Ton may have seen a black
nan in a fine livery giving away bills of a slop in
Holbom. If we was to have such a thing we 'd
be pulled up (apprehended) for obstructing.

" I sells a few children's (children's clothes),
but only a few, and I can't say so much about
them. They sells pretty freely though, and to
very decent people. If they 're good, then they 're
ready for use. If they ain't anything very prime,
they can be mended — that is, if they was good to
begin with. But children's woollen togs is mostly
hard worn and lit only for the ' devil ' (the machine
which tears them up for shoddy). I 've sold suits,
which WAS tunics and trousers, but no weskets,
for 3^. 6<^ when they was tidy. That 's a conmiou
pricf.

" Well, really, I hardly know how much I
make every week ; far too little, I know that. I
could no more tell you how many coats I sell in a
ear, or how many weskets, than I could tell yon
low many days was fine, and how many wasn't.
I can carry all in my head, and so I keeps no
accounts. I know exactly what every single
thing I sell has cost me. In course I must know
thai. I dare say I may clear about \2». bad
weeks, and I85. good weeks, more and less both
ways, and there's more bad wseks than good. I
have cleared 60s. in a good week ; and when it 's
been nothing but fog and wet, I haven't cleared
8«. Qd. But mine 's a better business than com-
mon, perhaps. I can't say what others clears ;
more and less than I does."

The profit in this trade, from the best informa-
tion I could obtain, ruus nbout 50 per cent.

Of tub Street- Sellers of Secokd-hakd >
Boots akd Shoes.
The man who gave me the following account of
this trade had been familiar with it a good many
years, fifteen he believed, but was by no means
certain. I saw at his lodgings a man who was
finishing his day's work there, in cobbling and
** translating." He was not in the employ of my
informant, who had two rooms, or rather n floor;
he slept in one and let the other to the " trans-
lator" who was A relation, he told me, nnd they
went on very well together, as he (the street-
seller) liked to sit and smoke his pipe of a night
in the translator's room, which was much larger
than his own ; and sometimes, when times were
"pretty bobbish," they clubbed together for a
good supper of tripo, or had a ** prime hot Jemmy
a-piece, with a drop of good beer. A " Jemmy "
is a baked sheep's head. The room was tidy
enough, but had the strong odour of shoemaker's
wax proper to the crnft,

*' I 've been in a good many street-trades, and
others too," said my informant, " since you want
to know, and for a good purpose as well as I can
understand it I was a 'prentice to a shoemaker
in Northamptoni with a lot more ; why, it wai

more like a hcXorj than anything else, was my
master's, and the place we worked in was so con-
fined and hot, and we couldn't open the window,
that it was worse than the Bast Ingees. 0, I
know what they is. I 've been there. I was so
badly treated I ran away firom my master, for I
had only a father, and he cared nothing about me,
and so I broke my indentures. After a good bit
of knocking about and living as I could, and
starving when I couldn't, but I never thought of
going bKu:k to Northampton, I 'listed and was a
good bit in the Ingees. Well, never mind, sir,
how long, or what happened me when I was
soldier. I did nothing wrong, and that ain't what
you was asking about, and I 'd rather say no more
about it."

I have met with other street-folk, who had
been soldiers, and who were fond of talking of
their ** service," often enough to grumble about it,
so that I am almost tempted to think my in-
formant had deserted, but I questioned him no
further on the subject.

** I had my ups and downs again, sir," he con-
tinued, " when I got back to England. God bless
us all ; I 'm very fond of children, but I never
married, and when I 've been at the worst, I 've
been really glad that I hadn't no one depending
on me. It 's bad enough for oneself, but when
there 's others as you must love, what must it be
then 1 I 've smoked a pipe when I was troubled
in mind, and couldn't get a meal, but could only
get a pipe, and baccy 's shamefully dear here ; but
if I 'd had a young daughter now, what good would
it have been my smoking a pipe to comfort her )
I 've seen tlmt in people that 's akin to me, and has
been badly off, and with families. I had a friend
or two in London, and I applied to them when I
couldn't hold out no longer, and they gave me a
bit of a rise, so I began as a costermonger. I was
living among them as was in that line. Well, now,
it 's a pleasant life in fine weather. Why it was
only this morning Joe (the translator) was reading
the paper at breakfast time ; — he gets it from the
public-house, and if it 's two, three, or four day's
old, it 's just as good for us ; — and there was
10,000 pines had been received from the West
Ingees. There 's a chance for the costermongers,
says I, if they don't go off too dear. Then cherries
is in ; and I was beginning to wish I was a
costermonger myself still, but my present trade is
suret'. My boots and shoes '11 keep. They don't
spoil in hot weather. Cherries and strawberries
does, and if it comes thimder and wet, you can't
sell. I worked a barrow, and sometimes had only
a bit of a pitch, for a matter of two year, perhaps,
and then I got into this trade, as I understood it.
I sells all sorts, but not so much women's or
children's.

'' Why, as to prices, there 's two sorts of prices.
You may sell as you buy, or you may sell new
soled and heeled. They 're never new welted for
the streets. It wouldn't pay a bit Not long
since I had a pair of very good Oxonians that had
been new welted, and the very first day I had
them on sale — it was a dull drizxly day — a lad
tried to prig them. I just caught him in time.

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

48

Did I giye him in charge ? I hope I 've more sense.
I 've been robbed before, and I 'to caught young
rips in the act If it *8 boots or shoes they 've
tried to prig, I gives them a stimiping with which-
erer it is, and a kick, and lets them go."

" Men's shoes, the regular sort, isn't a very
good sale. I get from \Qd. to As. 6d, a pair ; but
the high priced 'nns is either soled and heeled,
and mndded well, or they 've been real well-made
things, and not much worn. I Ve had gentle-
men's shooting-shoes sometimes, that 's flung aside
for the least thing. The plain shoes don*t go off
at all. I think people likes something to cover
their stocking-feet more. For cloth button-boots
I get from Is. — that 's the lowest I ever sold at —
to 2s. 6d, The price is according to what condi-
tion the things is in, and what 's been done to
them, but there 's no regular price. They 're not
such good sale as they would be, because they
soon diow worn. The black ' legs ' gets to look
yery seamy, and it 's a sort of boot that won't
stand much knocking about, if it ain't right well
made at first. I 've been selling Oxonian button-
overs {* Oxonian ' shoes, which cover the instep,
and are closed by being buttoned instead of being
stringed through four or five holes) at Zs. 6d. and
is. but they was really good, and soled and
heeled; others I sell at Is. 6d, to 2s. Zd. or
2s. 6d. Bluchers is from Is. to Zs. 6d. Welling-
tons from Is. — yes, indeed, I 've had them as low
as Is., and perhaps they weren't very cheap at
that, them very low-priced things never is, neither
new nor old — from 1*. to 5*. ; but Wellingtons is
more for the shops than the street. I do a little
in children's boots and shoes. I sell them from
Zd. to 15<i. Tes, you can buy lower than ZU.,
but I 'm not in that way. They sell quite as
quick, or quicker, than anything. I 've sold
children's boots to poor women that wanted shoe-
ing fiur worse than the child ; aye, many a time,
sir. Top boots (they 're called ' Jockeys ' in the
trade) isn't sold in the streets. I 've never had
any, and I don't see them with others in my line.
0 no, there *s no such thing as Hessians or back-
straps (a top-boot without the light-coloured top)
in my trade now. Tes, I always have a seat
handy where anybody can try on anything in the
street ; no, sir, no boot-hooks nor shoe-horn ; shoe-
horns is rather going out, I think. If what we
sell in the streets won't go on without them they
won't be sold at all. A good many will buy if
the thing's only big enough— 'they can't bcnr
pmching, and don't much care for a fine fit.

" Well, I suppose I take from oOs. to iOs. a
week, 14s. is about my profit — that 's as to the
year through.

"I sell little for women's wear, though I do sell
their boots and shoes sometimes."

Of thb Street-Sellxbs of Old Hats.
Tm two street-sellers of old coats, waistcoats,
and trousers,- and of boots and shoes, whose state-
ments precede this account, confined their trade,
cenerally, to the second-hand merchandize I
bave mentioned as more especially constituting
th«r ftock. But this arrangement does not

wholly prevail. There are many street-traders
" in second-hand," perhaps two-thirds of the whole
number, who sell indiscriminately anything which
they can buy, or what they hope to turn out an
advantage ; but even they prefer to deal more in
one particular kind of merchandize than another,
and this is most of all the case as concerns the
street-sale of old boots and shoes. Hats, how-
ever, are among the second-hand wares which the
street-seller rarely vends unconnected with other
stock. I was told that this might be owing to the
hats sold in the streets being usually suitable only
for one class, grown men ; while clothes and boots
and shoes are for boys as well as men. Caps may
supersede the use of hats, but nothing can super-
sede the use of boots or shoes, which form the
steadiest second-hand street-trade of any.

There are, however, occasions, when a street-
seller exerts himself to become possessed of a
cheap stock of hats, by the well-known process of
" taking a quantity," and sells them without, or
with but a small admixture of other goods. One
man who had been lately so occupied, gave me
the following account. He was of Irish parentage,
but there was little distinctive in his accent : —

" Hats," he said, " are about the awkwardest
things of any for the streets. Do as you will,
they require a deal of room, so that what you '11
mostly see isn't hats quite ready to put on your
head and walk away in, but to be made ready.
I 've sold hats that way though, I mean ready to
wear, and my father before mo has sold hundreds
— yes, I 've been in the trade all ray life — and it *s
the best way for a profit. You get, perhaps, the
old hat in, or you buy it at Id. or 2d. as may be,
and so you kill two birds. But there 's very little
of that trade except on Saturday nights or Sunday
mornings. People wants a decent tile for Sundays
and don't care for work-days. I never hawks
hats, but I sells to those as do. My customers for
hats are mechanics, with an odd clerk or two.
Yes, indeed, I sell hats now and then to my own
countrymen to go decent to mass in. I go to
nmss myself as often as I can ; sometimes I go to
vespers. No, the Irish in this trade ain't so good
in going to chapel as they ought, but it takes such
a time ; not just while you 're there, but in shaving,
and washing, and getting ready. My wife helps
me in selling second-hand things ; she 's a better
hand than I am. I have two boys; they're
young yet, and I don't know what we shall bring
them up to ; perhaps to our own business ; and
children seems to fall naturally into it, I think,
when their fathers and mothers is in it. They 're
at school now.

" I have sold hats from M. to 3*. 6<£., but very
seldom 3s. 6c/. The 3^. 6e2. ones would wear out
two new gossamers, I know. It 's seldom yon
see beaver hats in the street-trade now, they 're
nearly all silk. They say the beavers have got
scarce in foreign parts where the}' 're caught. I
haven't an idea how many hats I sell in a year,
for I don't stick to liats, you see, sir, but I like
doing in them as well or better than in anything
else. Sometimes I 've sold nothing but hats for
weeks together, wholesale and retail that is. It 's

44

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

only the i^gular-Bbaped hats I can tell. If you
offer swelU' hats, people 'II fay : ' I may as well
buy a new " wide-awake '* at once.* I have made
20«. in a week on hata alone. But if I confined
my trade to them now, I dun t suppose I could
clear hi. one week with another the year through.
It 's only the hawkers that can sell them in wet
weather. I wish we could sell under cover in all
the places where there 's what you call ' street-
markets.* It would save poor people that lives
by the street many a twopence by their things
not being spoiled, and by people not heeding the
zmin to go and examine them."

Or THE Stbket-Sellkrs of 'Womeii*s SeC05Z>-

UAKD Apparel.
This trado, as regards the sale to retail cus-
tomers in the streets, is almost entirely in the
hands of women, seven-eighths of whom are the
wives, relatives, or connections of the men who
deal in secondhand male apparel. But gowns,
cloaks, bonnets, &c., are collected more largely by
men than by women, and the wholesale old
clothes' merchants of course deal in every sort of
habiliment. Petticoat and Bosemary-lanes are the
grand marts for this street-sale, but in Whitecross-
street. Leather-lane, Old-street (St Luke's), and
some similar Saturday-night markets in poor
neighbourhoods, women's second-hand apparel is
sometimes offered. " It is often of little use offer-
ing it in the latter places,** I was told by a lace-
seller who had sometimes tried to do business in
second-hand shawls and cloaks, " because you are
sure to hear, ' Oh, we can get them far cheaper in
Petticoat-lane, when we like to go as far.* "

The different portions of female dress are shown
and sold in the street, as I have described in my
account of Kosemary-lane, and of the trading of
the men selling second-hand male apparel. There
is not so much attention paid to " set off" gowns
that there is to set off coats. " If the gown be a
washing gown," I was informed, ''it is sure to
have to be washed before it can be worn, and so
it is no use bothering with it, and paying for
soap and labour beforehand. If it be woollen, or
some stuff that wont wash, it has almost always
to be altered before it is worn, and so it is no
use doing it up perhaps to be altered again.'*
Silk goods, however, are carefully enough re-
glossed and repaired. Most of the others ''just
take their chance."

A good-looking Irishwoman gave me the follow-
ing account. She had come to London and had
been a few years in service, where she saved a little
money, when she married a cousin, but in what
degree of cousinship she did not know. She
then took part in his avocation as a crockmnn,
and subsequently as a street-seller of second-hand
clothes.

" Why, yis, thin and indeed, sir," she said, " I
did feel rather quare in my new trade, going about
from house to house, the Commercial-road and
Stepney way, but I soon got not to mind, and
indeed thin it don't matter much what way one
gets one's living, so long as it 's honest. 0, yis,
I know there 's goings on in old clothes that isn't

always honest, bat my hasband*i a (air dealing
man. I felt quarer, too, whin I had to sell in tbe
strate, but I soon got used to that, too ; and it *s
not such slavish work as the 'crocks.* Bat we
sometimes ' crocks * in the mornings a little itill,
and sells in the evenings. No, not what we 've
collected — for that goes to Mr. Isaac's market
almost always — but stock that 's ready for wear.

"For Cotton Gown* Tve got from 9d. to
2s. M. 0, yis, and indeed thin, there *b gowns
chaper, id. and 6(2., but there's nothing to be got
out of them, and we don't sell them. From 9tf.
to 18cf. is the commonest price. It's poor people
as buys: 0, yis, and indeed thin it is, thim as
has famines, and must look about thim. Many 'I
the poor woman that 's said to me, ' Well, and
indeed, marm, it isn't my inclination to chapen
anybody as I thinks is fair, and I was brought up
quite different to buying old gowns, I assure yoa'
— yis, that 's often said ; no, sir, it isn't my coun-
trywomen that says it (laughing), it *s yours. ' I
wouldn't think,' says she, ' of o&ring you Id. lest
than It., marm, for that frock for my daughter,
marm, but it 's such a hard fight to live.* Och,
thin, and it is indeed ; but to hear some of them
talk you'd think they was bom ladies. Stuff-
goinu is from U. to id, higher than cotton, but
they don't sell near so well. I hardly know why.
Cotton washes, and if a dacent woman sets a
chape second-hand cotton, she washes and does it
up, and it seems to come to her fresh and new.
That can't be done with stnffl SUk is Yery little
in my way, but silk gowns sell from 3s. 6(f . to 4s.
Of satin and velvet gowns I can tell yoa no-
thing ; they *re never in the streets.

"Second-hand Bonnets is a very poor sale —
very. The milliners, poor craitchers, as makes
them up and sells them in the strate, has th4
greatest sale, but they makes very little by it
Their bonnets looks new, you see, sir, and close
and nice for poor women. I *Te sold bonnets from
6d. to 3«. 6d.f and some of them cost ZL But
whin they git faded* and out of fashion, they 're
of no vally at all at all. Shawls is a very little
sale ; very little. I *ve got from 6rf. to 2s. 6rf.
for them. Plaid shawls is as good as any, at
about Is. 6rf. ; but they 're a winter 'trade. Ctoait
(they are what in the dress-making trade are callel
mantles) isn't much of a call. I 've had them
from Is. 6d. as high as 7s. — but only once
7s., and it was good silk. They re not a sort
of wear that suits poor people. Will and
indeed thin, I hardly know who buys theni
second-hand. Perhaps bad women buys a few,
or they get men to buy them for them. I think
your misses don't buy much second-hand thin in
gineral ; the less the better, the likes of them ;
yis, indeed, sir. Sta^t I don't sell, but you can
buy them from Sd. to 15d, ; it*s a small trade.
And I don't sell Under Clothing, or only now and
thin, except Children* s. Dear me, I can hardly
tell the prices I get for the poor little things'
dress — I *ve a little girl myself — the prices vary
so, just as the frocks and other things is made for
big children or little, and what they *re made o£
I 've sold frocks — they sell best on Satuiday and

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

45

Mondaj nighU-^from M» to It. M»: Little pet-
ticoaU is lef. to Zd. ; shifts it lii %f 2<i., and so
is little shirts. If thejr wasnt^O tfnhere would
be more rags than there i^ ttfiibure there's
plintj.

" Will, thin and indeed, I don't know what we
make in a week, and if I did, why should I tell ?
O, yes, sir, I know from the gentleman that sent
yon to me that you 're asking for a good purpose :
yifl, indeed, thin ; but I ralely can't say. We do
pritty well, GihI's name be praised ! Perhaps a
good second-hand gown trade and such like is
worth from 10«. to 15i. a week, and nearer 16«.
than 10«. iTery week ; but that 's a good second-
hand trade you understand, sir. A poor trade 's
about half that, perhaps. But thin my husbnnd
sells men's wear as well. Tis, indeed, and I find
time to go to mass, and I soon got my husband to
go after we was married, for he 'd got to neglect it,
€K>d be praised ; nnd what 's all you can get here
compared to making your sowl " [saring your soul
— making your soul is not an uncommon phrase
among some of the Irish people]. " Och, and

indeed thin, sir, if you 'te met Father , you '?e

met a good gintleman."

Of the street-selling of womtn and children's
Mcond-hand boots and shoet, I need say but little,
as they form part of the stock of the men's ware,
and are sold by the same men, not unfrequently
assisted by their wires. The best sale is for black
el&th hooUf whether Inced or buttoned, but the
prices run only from M, to It. 9d. If the " legs"
of a second-hand pair be good, they are worth M.,
no matter what the leather portion, including the
soles, may be. Coloured boots sell very in-
di^rently. Children's boots and shoes are sold
from 2tf. to 16d.

Or THS Stbesi-Sillebs or Ssoohd-hard
Furs.
Ov furs the street-sale is prompt enough, or used
to be prompt ; but not so much so, I am told,
last season, as formerly. A fur tippet is readily
bought for the sake of warmth by women who
thrire pretty well in the keeping of coffee-stalls,
or any calling which requires attendance during
the night, or in the chilliness of early morning,
eren in summer, by those who go out at early
hoars to their work. By such persons a big tip-
pet is readily bought when the money is not an
impediment, and to many it is a strong reeom-
iBendation^ that 'when new, the tippet, most
likely, wai worn by a real lady. So I was
itsttred by a person familiar with the trade.

One female street-seller had three stalls or

Itands in the New Cut (when it was a great street

ftiarket). about two years back, and all for the

I «le of second-hand furs. She has now a smnll

' ihop in second-hand wearing apparel (women's)

I lenendly, furs being of course included. The

I busineis carried on in the street (almost always

' *• the Cut ") by the* fur-seller in question, who was

i both industrious and respectable, was very con-

I liderable. On a Monday she has not unfrequently

Hkca 8/., obe-half of which, indeed more than

half, was profit, for the street-seller bought in the
summer, when furs '' were no money at all," and
sold in the winter, when they " were renlly tin,
and no mistake." Before the season began, she
sometimes had a small room nearly full of furs.

This trade is less confined to Petticoat-lane and
the old clothes district, as regards the supply to
retail customers, than is anything else connected
with dress. But the fur trade is now small. The
money, prudence, and forethought necessary to
enable a fur-seller to buy in the suntmer, for
ample profit in the winter, as regards street-trade,
is not in accordance with the habits of the general
run of street-sellers, who think but of the present,
or hardly think even of that.

The old furs, like all the other old articles of
wearing apparel, whether garbs of what may be
accounted primary necessaries, as shoes, or mere
comforts or adornments, as boas or muffs, are
bought in the first instance at the Old Clothes
Exchange, and so find their way to the street-
sellers. The exceptions as to this first transaction
in t)ie trade I now speak of, are very trifling, and,
perhaps, more trifling than in other articles, for
one great supply of furs, I am informed, is from
their being swopped in the spring and summer for
flowers with the " root-sellers," who carry them to
the Exchange.

Last winter there were sometimes as many as
ten persons — ^three-fourths of the number of second-
hand fur sellers, which flucttiates, being women —
with fur-stands. They frequent the street-markets
on the Saturday and Monday nights, not confining
themselves to any one market in particular. The
best sale is for Fur Tippets, and chiefly of the
darker colours. These are bought, one of the
dealers informed me, frequently by maid-servants,
who could run of errands in them in the dark, or
wear them in wet weather. They are sold from
U. 6d. to is, 6d., about 28. or 2«. 6d. being a
common charge. Children's tippets " go off well,"
from 6d. to Is. Zd. Boas are not vended to half
the extent of tippets, although they are lower-
priced, one of tolerably good gray squirrel being
Is. 6ef. The reason of the difference in the demand
is that boas are as much an ornament as a garment,
while the tippet answers the purpose of a shawL
Muffs are not at all vendible in the streets, the
few that are disposed of being principally for child-
ren. As muffs are not generally used by maid-
servants, or by the families of the working classei,
the absenee of demand in the second-hand traffic
is easily accounted for. They are bought some-
times to ctit up for other purposes. Victorines
are disposed of readily enough at from le. to 2a. 6d.,
as are Ci(^», from 4rf. to Sd.

One man, who told me that a few years since he
and hi« wife used to sell second-hand furs in the
street, was of opinion that his best customers were
women of the town, who were tolerably well-
dressed, and who required some farther protection
from the night air. He could readily sell toy
" tidy" article, tippet, boa, or muff, to those females,
if they had from 2s. 6d. to 6s. at command. He
had so sold them in Clare-market, in Tottenham-
court-road, and the Brill.

46

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOk.

Or THE Secokd-Hahd Ssllebs of Smitbreld-

XARKBT.

No nnall part of the second-hand trade of Lon-
don is carried on in the market-place of Smithfield,
on the Friday afternoons. Here is a mart for
almost everything which is required for the har-
nessing of beasts of draught, or is required for
any means of propulsion or locomotion, either as a
whole vehicle, or in its several parts, needed by
street-traders : also of the machines, vessels, scales,
weights, measures, baskets, stands, and all other
appliances of street-trade.

The scene is animated and peculiar. Apart
from the horse, ass, and goat trade (of which I
shall give an account hereafter), it is a grand
Becond-hand Costermongers' Exchange. The
trade is not confined to that large body, though
they are the principal merchants, but includes
greengrocers (often the costermonger in a shop),
carmen, and others. It is, moreover, a favourite
resort of the purveyors of street-pronsions and
beverages, of street dainties and luxuries. Of
this class some of the most prosperous are those
who are " well known in Smithfield."

The space devoted to this second-hand com-
merce and its accompaniments, runs from St.
Bartholomew's Hospital towards Long-lane, but
isolated peripatetic traders are found in all parts
of the space not devoted to the exhibition of cattle
or of horses. The crowd on the day of my visit
was considerable, but from several I heard the
not-always-very- veracious remarks of " Nothing
doing" and " There 's nobody at all here to-day."
The weather was sultry, and at every few yards
arose the cry from men and boys, " (iinger-beer,
ha'penny a glass ! Ha'penny a glass," or ** Iced
lemonade here ! Iced raspberriade, as cold as ice,
ha'penny a glass, only a ha'penny ! " A boy was
elevated on a board at the end of a splendid affair
of this kind. It was a square built vehicle, the
top being about 7 feet by 4, and flat and sur-
mounted by the lemonade fountain ; long, narrow,
champagne glasses, holding a nispberry coloured
liquid, frothed up exceedingly, were ranged round,
and the beverage dispensed by a woman, the
mother or employer of the boy who was bawling.
The sides of the machine, which stood on wheels,
were a bright, shiny blue, and on them sprawled
the lion and unicorn in gorgeous heraldry, yellow
and gold, the artist being, according to a pro-
minent announcement, a " herald painter." The
apparatus was handsome, but with that exaffgera*
tion of handsomeness which attracts the high and
low vulgar, who cannot distinguish between gaudi-
ness and beauty. The sale was brisk. The
ginger-beer sold in the market was generally dis-
pensed from carts, and here I noticed, what
occurs yearly in street-commerce, an innovation on
the established system of the trade. Several
sellers disposed of their ginger-beer in clear glass
bottles, somewhat birger and fuller-necked than
those introduced by M. Soyer for the sale of his
" nectar," and the liquid was drank out of the
bottle the moment the cork was undrawn, and so
the necessity of a glau was obviated.

Near t1
have just^
which

painter's work, of which I
a very humble stall on
bread, and round the loaves
were pie^f^iiniU fish and slices of bread on
plates, all remancnbly clean. " Oysters ! Penny-a
lot 1 Penny-a-lot, oysters i " vras the cry, the
most frequently heaiti after that of ginger-beer,
&c. " Cherries ! Twopence a-pound ! Penny-a
pound, cherries 1 " " Fruit-pies ! Try my fruit-
pies ! " The most famous dealer in all kinds of
penny pies is, however, not a pedestrian, but an
equestrian hawker. He drives a very smart,
handsome pie-cart, sitting behind after the manner
of the Hansom cabmen, the lifting up of a lid
below his knees displaying his large stock of pies.
His " drag" is whisked along rapidly by a brisk
chestnut poney, well- harnessed. The " whole set
out," I was informed, poney included, cost 50^
when new. The proprietor is a keen Chartist and
teetotaller, and loses no opportunity to inculcate
to his customers the excellence of teetotalism, as
well as of his pies. " Milk ! ha'penny a pint !
ha'penny a pint, good milkl" is another cry.
" Kaspberry cream ! Iced raspberry -cream, ha'penny
a glass ! " This street-seller had a capital trade.
Street-ices, or rather ice-creams, were somewhat of
a failure last year, more especially in Greenwich-
park, but this year they seem likely to succeed.
The Smithfield man sold them in very small
glasses, which he merely dipped into a vessel at
his feet, and so filled them with the cream. The
consumers had to use their fingers instead of a
spoon, and no few seemed pnnled how to eat their
ice, and were grievously troubled by its getting
among their teeth. I heard one drover mutter
that he felt ''as if it had snowed in his belly !"
Perhaps at Smithfield-market on the Friday iJter*
noons every street-trade in eatables and drinkables
has its representative, with the exception of such
things as sweet-stuff, curds and whey, &c., which
are bought chiefly by women and children. There
were plum-dough, plum-cake, pastry, pea-soup,
whelks, periwinkles, ham-sandwiches, hot-eels,
oranges, &c., &c., &c.

These things are the usual accompaniment of
street-markets, and I now come to the subject
matter of the work, the sale of second-hand
articles.

In this trade, since the introduction of a new
arrangement two months ago, there has been a
great change. The vendors are not allowed to
vend barrows in the market, unless indeed with a
poney or donkey harnessed to them, or unless
they are wheeled about by the owner, and they
are not allowed to spread their wares on the
ground. When it is considered of what those
wares are composed, the awkwardness of the
arrangement, to the sales-people, may be unde^
stood. They consist of second-hand collars, pads,
saddles, bridles, bits, traces, every description of
worn harness, whole or in parts; the wheels,
springs, axles, &&, of barrows and carts ; the
beams, chains, and bodies of A»les ; — these, pe^
haps, are the chief things which ore sold sepa-
rately, as parts of a whole. The traders have now
no other option but to carry them as they best

THE S

TREET DOG-SELLER.

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

47

can, aiid offer thehi for mie. Tou taw men who
TOfillj Appear clad in harness. Portions were
fastened round their bodies, collars slung on their
arms, pads or small cart-saddles, with their shaft-
gear, were planted on their shoulders. Some
carried merelj a collar, or a harness bridle,
or even a bit or a pair of spurs. It was the
same with the springs, &c., of the barrows
and small carts. They were carried under
men*s arms, or poised on their shoulders. The
wheels and other things which are too hearj
for such modes of transport had to be placed in
some sort of yeliicle, and in the Yehicles might be
teen trestles, &c.

The complaints on the part of the second-hand
sellers were neither few nor mild : " If it had
been a fat ox that had to be accommodated," said
one, " before he was roasted for an alderman,
they 'd hare found some way to do it But it
don't matter for poor men ; though why we
shouldn't be suited with a market as well as
richer people is not the ticket, that *s the fiict."

These arrangements are already beginning to be
infringed, and will be more and more infringed,
for such is always the case. The reason why they
were adopted was that the ground was so littered,
that there was not room for the donkey traffic and

other requirements of the market The donkeys^
when " shown," nnder the old arrangement, often
trod on boards of old metal, <ec., spread on the
ground, and tripped, sometimes to their injury, in
consequence. Prior to the change, about twenty
persons used to come from Petticoat-lane, &c., and
spread their old metal or other stores on the
ground.

Of these there are now none. These Petticoat-
laners, I was told by a Smithfield frequenter,
were men " who knew the price of old rags," — a
new phrase expressire of their knowingness and
keenness in trade.

The statistics of this trade will be found under
that head ; the prices are ofttm much higher and
much lower. I speak of the regular trades. I
have not included the sale of the superior butchers'
carts, &c., as that is a traffic not in the hands of
the regular second-hand street-sellers. I have not
thought it requisite to speak of the hawking
of whips, sticks, wash-leathers, brushes, curry-
combs, &c., Ac, of which I have already treated
distinctively.

The accounts of the Capital and Income of the
Street-Sellers of Second-Hand Articles I am
obliged to defer till a future occasion.

OF THE STREET -SELLERS OF LIVE ANIMALS.

TbS live animals sold in the streets include beasts,
birds, fish, and reptiles, all sold in the streets of
London.

The clau of men carrying on this business — for
they are nearly all men — is mixed ; but the ma-
jority are of a half-sporting and half-vagrant kind.
One informant told me that the bird-catchers, for
instance, when young, as more than three-fourths
of them are, were those who '< liked to be after a
loose end/' first catching their birds, as a sort of
sporting business, and then sometimes selling them
in the streets, but far more frequently disposing of
them in the bird-shops. ** Some of these boys,"
a bird-seller in a large way of business said to me,
^'vsed to become rat-catchers or dog-sellers, but
there 's not such great openings in the rat and dog
line now. As far as I know, they 're the same
lads, or jnst the same sort of lads, anyhow, as you
may see ' helping,' holding horses, or things like
that, at concerns like them small races at Peck-
bam or Chalk Farm, or helping any way at the
foot-races at Caraberwell." There is in this bird-
catching a strong manifestation of the vagrant
spirit. To rise long before daybreak ; to walk
some miles before daybreak ; from the earliest
dawn to wait in some field, or common^ or wood,
watching the capture of the birds ; then a long
tradge to town to dispose of the fluttering cap-
tives ; all this is done cheerfully, because there are
about it the irresistible charms, to this class, of
excitement, variety, and free and open-air life.
Nor do these charms appear one whit weakened
when, as happens often enough, all this early mom
Wness is carri^ on &sting.

The old men in the bird-catching business are
not to be ranked as to their enjoyment of it with
the juveniles, for these old men are sometimes
infirm, and can but, as one of them said to me
some time ago, ** hobble about it" But they have
the same spirit, or the sparks of it And in this
part of the trade is one of the curious character-
istics of a street-life, or rather of an open-air
pursuit for the requirements of a street-trade. A
man, worn out for other purposes, incapable of
anything but a passive, or sort of lazy labour —
such as lying in a field and watching the action of
his trap-cages — will yet in a summer's morning,
decrepid as he may be, possess himself of a dozen
or even a score of the very freest and most aspir-
ing of all our English small birds, a creature of the
air beyond other birds of his '' order " — to use an
ornithological term — of sky-larks.

The dog-sellers are of a sporting, trading,
idling class. Their sport is now the rat-hunt, or
the terret-match, or the dog-fight ; as it was with
the predecessors of their stamp, the cock-fight;
the bull, bear, and badger bait ; the shrove-tide
cock-shy, or the duck hunt. Their trading spirit
is akin to that of the higher-class sporting frater-
nity, the trading members of the turf. They love
to sell and to bargain, always with a quiet exulta-
tion at the time — a matter of loud tavern boast
afterwards, perhaps, as respects the street-folk —
how they " do" a customer, or " do" one another.
" It 's not cheating," was the remark and apology
of a very famous jockey of the old times, touching
such measures; **'\i*% not cheating, it's outwit-
ting." Perhftpi^this expresses the code of honesty

48

LOXDON LABOUR AXD TUE LONDON POOR.

of tucli tmden ; not to cheat, but to outwit or
over-reach. Mixed with such traden, howerer,
are found a few quiet, plodding, fair-dealing men,
whom it is difficult to classify, otherwise than that
they are "in the line, just because they likes it.**
The idling of these street-sellers is a part of their
business. To walk by the hour up and down a
street, and with no manual labour except to clean
their dogs' kennels, and to carry them in their
arms, is but nn idleness, although, as some of these
men will tell you, " they work hard at it"

Under the respective heads of dog and bird-
sellers, I shall give more detailed characteristics of
the class, as well os of the varying qualities and
inducements of the buyers.

The street-sellers of foreign birds, such as par-
rots, parroquets, and cockatoos ; of gold and silver
fish ; of goats, tortoises, rabbits, leverets, hedge-
hogs; and the collectors of snails, worms, frogs,
and toads, arc also a mixed body. Foreigners,
Jews, seamen, countrymen, costermongers, and
boys form a part, and of them I shall give a de-
scription under the several h^ads. Tho promi-
nently-characterized street-sellers are tho traders
in dogs and birds.

Op tuk former Street Sellers, "Fikders,"

Stealers, and Restorers of Do«3.
Before I describe the present condition of the
stree^t^ade in dogs, which is principally in
spaniels, or in the description well known as lap-
dogs, I will give an account of the former condi-
tion of the trade, if trade it can properly be
called, for the " finders " and " stealers " of dogs
were the more especial subjects of a parlia-
mentary inquiry, from which 1 derive the official
information on the matter. The Repc.rt of the
Committee was ordpred by the House of Com-
mons to be printed, July 2G, 1844.

In their Report the Committee observe, con-
cerning the value of pet dogs : — " From the evi-
dence of various witnesses it appears, that in one
case a spaniel was sold for 105/., and in another,
under a sheriff's execution, for 95/. at the hammer;
and 60/. or 60/. are not un frequently given for
fancy dogs of first-rate breed and beauty.' The
hundred guineas* dog above alluded to was a
"black and ton King Charles's spaniel;" — indeed,
Mr. Dowling, the editor of IklVs Life in, Loudon^
laid^ in his evidence before the Committee, " I
have known as much as 1 50/. given for u dog."
Ho said afterwards : " There are certain marks
about tho eyes and otherwise, which are con-
sidered ' properties ;' and it depends entirely upon
the property which a dog possesses as to its
value."

I need not dwell on the general fondness of the
English for dogs, otherwise than as rcgsirds what
were the grand objects of the dog-finders' search
— Udies' small spaniels and lap-dogs, or, as they
are sometimes called, "carriage-dogs," by their
being the companions of ladies inside their car-
riages. These animals first became fashionable
by the fondness of Charles II. for them. That
monarch allowed them undisturbed possession of
the gilded chairs in his palace of Whitehall, and

seldom took his accustomed walk in the park with-
out a tribe of them at his heels. So ** fiuhionable *
were spaniels at that time and afterwarda, that in
1712 Pope made the chief of all his sylphs and
sylphides the guard of a lady's lapdog. The
fashion has long continued, and still continnei;
and it was on this fashionable fondness for a toy,
and on the regard of many others for the noble
and affectionate qualities of the dog, that a traffic
was established in London, which became so ex-
tensive and so lucrative, that the legislature inter-
fered, in 1844, for the purpose of checking it.

I cannot better show tho extent and YoeOf
tiveness of this trade, than by citing a list whidi
one of the witnesses before Parliament, Mr. W.
Bishop, a gunmaker, delivered in to the Com-
mittee, of " cases in which money had recently
been extorted from the owners of dogs by dog^
stealers and their confederates." There is no ex-
planation of the space of time included under the
vague term " recently ;" but the return shows thit
151 ladies and gentlemen had been the victims of
the dog-stealcrs or dog-finders, for in this business
the words were, and still are to a degree, syno*
nymes, and of these 62 had been so victimiced
in 1843 and in the six months of 1844, from
January to July. The total amount shown
by Mr. Bishop to have been paid for the
restoration of stolen dogs was 077/. 4«. 6(2., or an
average of 6/. 10«. per individiuil practised up<Hi.
This large sum, it is stated on the authority of
the Committee, was only that which came within
Mr. Bishop's knowledge, and formed, perhapi^
" but a tenth part in amount" of the whou) extoi<>
tion. Mr. Bishop was himself in the habit of
doing business "in obtaining the restitution of
dog»," and had once known 18/. — the dog-stealefs
asked 25/. — ^given for the restitution of a spaniel.
The full amount realized by this dog-stealing was,
according to the above proportion, 9772/. 6«. In
1843, 227/. Zt, 6c/. was so realized, and
97/. 14«. 6(/. in the six months of 1844, within
Mr. Bishop's personal knowledge ; and if this be
likewise a tenAh of tho whole of the conmierce
in this line, a year s business, it appears, avenged
2166^ to the stealers or finders of dogs. I select
a few names from the list of those robbed of dogs,
either from the amount paid, or because the names
arc well known. The first pa3rment cited is from
a public board, who owned a dog in their corporate
capacity :

£ t. d.
Board of Green Cloth . .800
Hon. W.Ashley (v. t.») . . 15 0 0
Sir F. Burdett ' . . .660
Colonel Udney (v. t.) . . 12 0 0
Duke of Cambridge . . 30 0 0 <

Count Kielmansegge . .900
Mr. Orby Hunter (v. t.) . . 15 0 0
Mrs. Holmes (v. t) . . . 50 0 0
Sir Richard Phillips (v. t) . 20 0 0

The French Amdassador . . 1 11 6
SirR. Peel . . . .200
Edw. Morris, Esq. . . . 17 0 0

* ** V. t." siffnifles " various times,** of theft aad of

*• w»«tor«tinn '"

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR,

49

£

$,

d.

15

0

0

5

0

0

25

0

0

22

0

0

3

0

0

2

0

0

10

0

0

5

0

0

12

0

0

8

0

0

12

0

0

10

0

0

7

0

0

12 12

0

15

0

0

14

14

0

16

0

0

6

0

0

12

0

0

2

2

0

10

10

0

14

0

0

4

10

0

10

0

0

Hn. Bam (r. t.) .

Duchess of Sutherland

Wyndham Bruce, Esq. (t. t.)

GapL Alexander (t. t)

Sir De Lacj Evans .

Judge Littledale

Leonino Ippolito, Esq. (v. t)

Jf r. Commissioner Bae

Lord Cholmondeley (t. t) .

Earl Stanhope

Connteu of Charlemont (v. t. in

1843)

Lord Alfred Paget .
Connt Leodoffe (t. t.)
« Mr. Thome (whipmaker) '.
Mr. White (t. t.) . . .
Col. Barnard (v. t) .
Mr. T. Holmes
Earl of Winchelsea .
Lord Whamcliffe (▼. t.) .
Hon. Mrs. Bjce Sombre .
M. Ude(T.t.)
Count Batthyany
Bisbop of Ely ...

Count D'Orsay

Thus these 86 hulies and gentlemen paid
438/. 5s. td, to rescue their dogs from professional
dog^tealers, or an average, per individual, of up-
wards of 121.

These dog appropriators, as they found that
they could levy contributions not only on royalty,
foreign ambassadors, peers, courtiers, and ladies of
rank, but on public bodies, and on the dignitaries
of the state, the law, the army, and the church,
became bolder and more expert in their avocations
— a boldness which was encouraged by the exist-
ing law. Prior to the parliamentary inquiry, dog-
stealing was not an indictable offence. To show
this, Mr. Commissioner Mayne quoted Blackstone
to the Committee : " As to those animals which
do not serve for food, and which therefore the law
holds to have no intrinsic value, as dogs of all
sorts^ and other creatures kept for whim and plea-
sure— though a man may have a base property
therein, and maintain a civil action for the loss of
them, yet they are not of such estimation as that
the crime of stealing them amounts to larceny."
The only mode of punishment for dog-stealing was
bj summary conviction, the penalty being fine or
imprisonment ; but Mr. Commissioner Mayne did
Bot know of any instance of a dog-stealer being
lent to prison in default of payment. Although the
law recognised no property in a dog, the animal
«u taxed; and it was complained at the time
Uuit an ttnhi4>py lady might have to pay tax for
the iull term upon her dog, perhaps a year and a
hslf after he had been stolen from her. One old
offmder, who stole the Duke of Beaufort's dog, was
Uinsported, not for stealing the dog, but his collar.
The difficulty of proving the positive theft of a
dog was extreme. In most cases, where the man
wu not seen actually to seize a dog which could
be identified, be escaped when carried before a
n^istmte. "The dog-stealers," said Inspector

Shackell, " generally go two together ; they have
a piece of liver ; they say it is merely bullock's
liver, which will entice or tame the wildest or
savagest dog which there can be in any yard;
they give it him, and take him from his chain.
At oUier times," continues Mr. Shackell, "they
will go in the street with a little dog, nibbed over
with some sort of stuff, and will entice valuable

dogs away If there is a dog lost or

stolen, it is generally known within five or six
hours where that dog is, and they know almost
exactly what they can get for it, so that it is a
reguUr system of plunder." Mr. G. White,
** dealer in live stock, dogs, and other animals,"
and at one time a ** dealer in lions, and tigers, and
all sorts of thijigs," said of the dog-stealcrs : " In
turning the comers of streets there are two or
three of them together ; one will snatch up a dog
and put into his apron, and the others will stop
the lady and say, ' What is the matter V and di-
rect the party who has lost the dog in a contrary
direction to that taken."

In this business were engaged from 50 to
60 men, half of them actual stealers of the
animals. The others were the receivers, and the
go-betweens or "restorers." The thief kept
the dog perhaps for a day or two at some public-
house, and he then took it to a dog-dealer with
whom he was connected in the way of business.
These dealers carried on a trade in "honest
dogs," as one of the witnesses styled them (mean-
ing dogs honestly acquired), but some of them
dealt principally with the dog-stealers. Their
depots could not be entered by the police, being
private premises, without a search-warrant — and
direct evidence was necessary to obtain a search-
warrant — and of course a stranger in quest of a
stolen dog would not be admitted. Some of the
dog-dealers would not purchase or receive dogs
known to have been stolen, but others bought
and speculated in them. If an advertisement
appeared offering a reward for the dog, a negotia-
tion was entered into. If no reward was offered,
the owner of the dog, who was always either
known or made out, was waited upon by a re-
storer, who undertook " to restore the dog if terms
could be come to." A dog belonging to Colonel
Fox was once kept six weeks before the thieves
would consent to the Colonel's terms. One of the
moit successfid restorers was a shoemaker, and
mixed little with the actual stealers; the dog-
dealers, however, acted as restorers frequently
enough. If the person robbed paid a good round
sum for the restoration of a dog, and paid it
speedily, the animal was almost certain to be
stolen a second time, and a higher sum was then
demanded. Sometimes the thieves threatened
that if they were any longer trifled with they
would inflict torture on the dog, or cut its throat
One lady. Miss Brown of Bolton-street, was so
worried by these threats, and by having twice to
redeem her dog, "that she has left Enghind,"
said Mr. Bishop, "and I really do believe for the
sake of keeping the dog." It does not appear, as
fiur as the evidence shows, that these threats of
torture or death were ever carried into execution;

60

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

tome of the witneisei had merely heard of such
things.

The •hoenuiker alluded to was named Tnylor,
and Insfjector Slmckell thus describes this person's
way of transacting business in the dog ** restoring *'
line : " There is a man named Tnylor, who is one
of the greatest restorers in London of stolen dogs,
through Mr. Bishop." [Mr. Bishop was a gun-
maker in Bond-street] ** It is a disgrace to
London that any person should encouiagc a man
like that to go to extort money from ladies and
gentlemen, especially a respectable man. A gen-
tleman applied to me to get a valuable dog that
was stolen, with a chain on his neck, and the
name on the collir; and I heard Mr. Bishop him-
lelf say that it cost G/.; that it could not be got
for less. Capt Vnnsittart (the owner of the dog)
came out; I asked him particularly, * Will you
give me a description of the dog on a piece of
paper,' and that is his writing (producing a paper).
I went and made inquiry; and the captain him-
self, who lives in Bel grave- square, said he had no
objection to give 4^ jfor the recovery of the dog,
but would not give the 6^ 1 went and took a
good deal of trouble about it. I found out that
Taylor went 6rst to ascertain what the owner of
the dog would give for it, and then went and
offered 1/. for the dop, then 2/., and at last pur-
chased it for 3/.; and went and told Capt. Van-
sittart that he had given 4/. for the dog; and the
dog went back through the hands of Mr. Bishop."

The "restorers" had, it appears, the lion's shore
in the profits of this business. One witness had
known of as much as ten guineas being given for
the recovery of a fevourite spaniel, or, as the wit-
ness styled it, for " working a dog back," and
only two of tliese guineas being received by *' the
party." The wronged individual, thus delicately
intimated as the " party," was the thief. The
same witness, Mr. Ilobdell, knew 14/. given for
the restoration of a litile red Scotch terrier, which
he, as a dog-dealer, valued at four shillings I

One of the coolest instances of the organization
and boldness of the dog-stealers was in the case
of Mr. Fitwoy Kflly's " favourite Scotch terrier."
The " parties," possessing it through theft, asked
12^ for it, and urged that it was a reasonable
offer, considering the trouble they were obliged to
take. " The dog-stealers were obliged to watch
every night," they contended, through Mr. Bishop,
"and very diligently; Mr. Kflly kept them out
very late from their homes, before they could get
the dog ; he used to go out to dinner or down to
the Temple, and tike the dog with him ; they had
a deal of trouble before they could get it" So Mr.
Kelly was expected not only to pay more than the
value of his dog, but an extra amount on account
of the care he had taken of his terrier, and fur the
trouble his vigilance had given to the thieves !
The matter was settled at 6/. Mr. Kelly's case
was but one instance.

Among the most successful of the practitioners
in this street- finding business were Messrs.
" Ginger'* and " Carrots," but a parliamentary
witness was inclined to believe that Ginger and
Carrota were nicknames for the tame individual,

one Barrett ; although he had been in custody
several times, he wus considered '* a rery superior
dog-stealer."

If the stolen dog were of little value, it wai
safest for the stealers to turn him loose ; if he
were of value, and unowned and unsought for, there
was a ready market abroad. The stewards,
stokers, or seamen of the Ostend, Antwerp, Bot-
terdam, Hamburgh, and all the French steamen,
readily boughtstolcn fancy dogs ; sometimes twenty
to thirty were taken at a voyage. A steward,
indct'd, has given 12/. for a stolen spaniel as a
private speculation. Dealers, too, came occasion-
ally from Paris, and bought numbers of these
animals, and at what the dog foragers considered
fair prices. One of the witnesses (Mr. Baker, a
game dealer in Leadenball-market) said : — " I
have seen perhaps twenty or thirty dogs tied np in
a little room, and I should suppose erery one of
them was stolen ; a reward not sufficiently high
being offered for their restoration, the parties get
more money by taking them on board the different
steam-ships and selling them to persons on board,
or to people coming to this country to buy dogs
and take them abroad."

The following statement, derived from Mr.
Mayne*s evidence, shows the extent of the dog-
stealing business, but only as far as came nnder
the cognizance of the police. It shows ths
number of dogs " lost" or " stolen," and of pefr
sons ** charged*' with the offence, and "convicted"
or '* discharged." Nearly all the dogs returned as
lost, 1 may observe, were stolen, but there was no
evidence to show the positive theft : —

Stolen.

noRi

Lost.

Penont
Charged.

51

Con-
victed.

DIs-
chsigcQ*

1841

43

521

10

32

1842

H

661

46

17

28

1843

60

606

38

18

20

In what proportion the police-known thefU
stood to the whole number, there was no evidenco
given ; nor, I suppose, could it be given.

The dog-stealers were not considered to be con-
nected with housebreakers, though they might
frequent the same public- houses. Mr. Mayne
pronounced these dog-stealers a genus, a peculiar
class, "what they call dog-fanciers and dog-
stealers; a sort of half-sporting, bettinv characters."

The law on the subject of dog-stealing (8 and •
Vict., c. 47) now is, that " If any person shall
steal any dog, every such offender shall be deemed
guilty of a misdemeanor, and, being convicted
thereof before any two or more justices of tb*
peace, shall, for the first offence, at the discretion
of the said justices, either be committed to the
common gaol or house of correction, there to be
imprisoned only, or be imprisoned and kept to hard
labour, for any term not exceeding six calendar
months, or shall forfeit and pay over and abovs
the value of the said dog such sum of money, not
exceeding 20/., as to the said justices shall seem
meet. And if any person so convieted shall

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

HX

aftcrwurdt be guilty of the rame offence, every
I such ofiender sluli be guilty of an indictable mii-
I demeanor, and, being convicted thereof, shall be
I liable to suffer such punishment, by fine or im-
I prisonment, with or without hard labour, or by

both, as the court in its discretion shall award,

provided such imprisonment do not exceed eighteen

months.**

Of a Doa-"Fnn)KB."— a "Lurkk's"
Cakksb.
Covonumro a dog-finder, I received the following
account from one who had received the education
of a gentleman, but whom circumstances had
driven to an association with the vagrant class,
and who has written the dog-finder's biography
from personal knowledge — abiography which shows
the variety that often characterizes the career of
the " lurker," or street-adventurer.

•* If your readers," writes my informant, "have
passed the Rubicon of * forty years in the wilder-
ness,' memory must bring back the time when
the feet of their childish pilgrimage have trodden
a beautiful grass-plot — now converted into Bcl-
grare-square ; when Pimlico was a * village out of
town,* and the * five fields' of Chelsea were fields
inde«l To write the biography of a living cha-
ncter is always delicate, as to embrace all its par-
ticulars is difficult ; but of the truthfulness of my
acconnt there is no question.

" Probably about the year of the great frost
(1814), a French Protestant refugee, named La
Roche, sought asylum in this country, not from
persecution, but from difficulties of a commercial
character. He built for himself, in Chelsea, a
cottage of wood, nondescript in shape, but pleasant
in locality, and with ample accommodations for
himself and his son. Wife he had none. This
little - baxaar of mud and sticks was surrounded
with a bench of rude construction, on which the
Sunday visitors to Ranelagh used to sit and sip
their curds and whey, while from the entrance —
hx removed in those days from competition —

' There stood upresr'd, as ensign of the place,
Of blue and red and white, a rhecqucr'd mace.
On which the paper lantern hung to tell
How cheap iu owner shaved you, and how well.'

Things went on smoothly for a dosen years, when
the old Frenchman departed this life.

"Hit boy carried on the business for a few
VMmths, when frequent complaints of ' Sunday
gambling ' on the premises, and loud whispers of
suspicion relative to the concealment of stolen
goods, induced ' Chelsea George ' — the name the
youth had acquired — to sell the good- will of the
boose, fixtures, and all, and at the eastern ex-
tnnity of London to embark in business as a
'mush or mushroom-fiiker.* Independently of
Ids appropriation of umbrelUs, proper to the mush-
fUcer's calling, Chelsea George was by no means
ttrapnlons concerning other little matters within
iiis reach, and if the proprietors of the 'swell
wibs' within his 'beat' had no 'umbrellas to mend,'
or ' old 'una to sell,' he would ease the pegs iu the
iMMge of the incumbrance of a greatcoat, and
telegraph the «une oat of tight (by a colleague).

while the servant went in to make the desired
inquiries. At last he was ' bowl'd out' in the
very act of * nailing a yack ' (stealing a watch),
fie ' expiated,' as it is called, this ofiencc by three
months* exercise on the ' cockchafer ' (tread-mill).
Unaccustomed as yet to the novelty of the exer-
cise, he fell through the wheel and breke one of
his legs. He was, of course, permitted to finish
his time in the infirmary of the prison, and on his
liberation was presented with five pounds out of
' the Sheriffs' Fund.'

" Although, as I have before stated, he had
never been out of England since his childhood,
he had some little hereditary knowledge of the
French language, and by the kind and voluntary
recommendation of one of the police-magistrates of
the metropolis, he was engaged by an Irish gentle-
man proceeding to the Continent as a sort of
supernumerary servant, to 'make himself generally
useful.' As the gentleman was unmarried, and
mostly stayed at hotels, George was to have per-
manent wages and ' find himself,' a condition he
invariably fulfilled, if anything was left in his
way. Frequent intemperance, neglect of duty,
and unaccountable departures of property from the
portmanteau of his master, led to his dismissal,
and Chelsea George was left, without friends or
character, to those resources which have supported
him for some thirty years.

" During his ' umbrella' enterprise he had lived
in lodging-houses of the lowest kind, and of course
mingled with the most depraved society, espe-
cially with the vast army of trading sturdy men-
dicants, male and female, young and old, who
assume every guise of poverty, misfortune, and
disease, which craft and ingenuity can devise or
well-tutored hypocrisy can imitate. Thus ini-
tiated, Chelsea George could ' go upon any lurk,'
could be in the last stage of consumption — actually
in his dying hour — but now and then convalescent
for years and years together. He could take fits
and counterfeit blindness, be a respectible broken-
down tradesman, or a soldier maimed in the ser-
vice, and dismissed without a pension.

" Thus qualified, no vicissitudes could be either
very new or very perplexing, and he commenced
operations without delay, and pursued them long
without desertion. The 'first move' in his men-
dicant career was iaking tJiem on t/ie jly; which
means meeting the gentry on their walks,
and beseeching or at times menacing them till
something is given ; something in general tcvu
given to get rid of the annoyance, and, till the
'game got stale,' an hour's work, morning and
evening, produced a harvest of success, and minis-
tered to an occasion of debauchery.

" His less popular, but more upright father, had
once been a dog-fancier, and George, after many
years vicissitude, at length took a 'fancy' to the
same profession, but not on any principles recog-
nised by commercial laws. With what success he
has practised, the ladies and gentlemen al)out the
West-end have known, to their loss and disappoint-
ment, for more than fifteen years past.

*' Although the police have been and still are
on the alert, Gborge has, in every instance, hitherto

52

LONDON LABOUR AND TEE LONDON POOH

escaped punishment, while numeroas detections
connected with escape have enabled the oiTender
to hold these officials at defiance. The ' modus
operandi ' upon which George proceeds is to
Tarnish his hands with a sort of gelatine, com-
posed of the coarsest pieces of liver, fried, pnl-
Terised, and mixed up with tincture of myrrh."
TThis is the composition of which Inspector
Shackell spoke before the Select Committee,
but he did not seem to know of what the lure
was concocted. My correspondent continues] :
"Chelsea Ocorge caresses every aninuil who
seems ' a likely spec,' and when his fingers have
been rubbed over the dogs' noses they become easy
and perhaps willing captives. A bng carried for
the purpose, receives the victim, and away goes
George, bag and all, to his printer's in Seven
Dials. Two bills and no less — two and no more,
for such is George's style of work — are issued to
describe the animal that has thus been found,
and which will be ' restored to its owner on pay-
ment of expenses/ One of these George puts in
his pocket, tlie other he pastes up at a public-
house whose landlord is 'fly' to its meaning, and
poor ' bow-wow ' is sold to a ' dealer in dogs,' not
very far from Sharp's alley. In course of time
the dog is discovered ; the possessor refers to the
' establishment ' where he bought it ; the ' dealer
makes himself tqxiart* by giving the address of
'the chap he bought 'un of,' and Chelsea George
shows a copy of the advertisement, calls in the
pnblican as a witness, and leaves the place ' without
the slightest imputation on his character.' Of this
man's earnings I cannot speak with precision : it is
probable that in a ' good year ' his clear income is
200/. ; in a bad year but 100/., but, as he is very
adroit, I am inclined to believe that the * good '
years somewhat predominate, and that the average
income may therefore exceed 160/. yearly."

Of the PiiESEKT Street- Sellers of Doqs.
It will have been noticed that in the accounts I
have given of the former street-transactions in
dogs, there is no mention of the *dUrtt, The in-
formation I have adduced is a condensation of the
evidence given before the Select Committee of the
House of Commons, and the inquiry related only
to the stealing, finding, and restoring of dogs, the
selling being but an incidental part of the evidence.
Then, however, as now, the street-sellers were not
implicated in the thefts or restitution of dogs,
'•just except,'* one man told mo, "as there was a
black sheep or two in every flock." The black
sheep, however, of this street-calling more fre-
quently meddled with restoring, than with " find-
ing."

Another street dog- seller, an intelligent man, —
who, however did not know so much as my first
informant of the state of the trade in the olden
time, — express d a positive opinion, that no dog-
stealer was now a street-hawker (" hawker" was
the word I found these men use). II is reasons for
this opinion, in addition to his own judgment from
personal knowledge, are cogent enough : " It isn't
possible, sir," he said, "and this is the reason
why. We are not a \aige body of men. We

stick pretty closely, when we are out, to the i
places. We are as well-known to the polieey ai
any men whom they most know, by aight at any
rate, from meeting them every day. Now, if a
lady or gentleman has lost a dog, or it 'a been
stolen or strayed — and the most petted will some-
times stray unaccountably and follow aome straiiger
or other — why where does she, and he, and all
the family, and all the servants, first look fat the
lost animal 1 Why, where, but at the dogi we
are hawking 1 No, sir, it can't bo done now, and
it isn't done in my knowledge, and it oughtn't to
be done. I 'd rather make b*, on an honest dog
than 5/. on one that wasn't, if there was no risk
about it either." Other information convinces ne
that this statement is correct.

Of these street-sellers or hawkers there are now
about twenty-five. There may be, however, bnt
twenty, if so many, on any given day in the streets,
as there are always some detained at home by
other avocations connected with their line of lifiL
The pUces they chiefly frequent are the Quadnnt
and Hegent-strcet generally, but the Quadrant fax
the most. Indeed before the removal of the
colonnade, one-half at least of all the dog-sellers
of London would resort there on a very wet di^,
as they had the advantage of shelter, and gene-
rally of finding a crowd assembled, either lonngiqg
to pass the time, or waiting " for a fiiirfit," ai;^ so
with leisure to look h dogs. The other places are
the West-end squares, the banks of the Serpentine,
Charing-cross, the Royal Exchange, and the Bank
of England, and the Parks generally. They Tisit,
too, any public place to which there may be a tem-
porary attraction of the classes likely to be pa^
chasers — a mere crowd of people, I was told,*
was no good to the dog-hawkers, it must be a
crowd of people that had money — such as the
assemblage of ladies and gentlemen who crowd
the windows of Whitehall and Parliament-street,
when tiie Queen opens or prorogues the houses.
These spectators fill the street and the Hone-
guards* portion of the park as soon as the street
mass has dispersed, and they often afford the
means of n good day's work to the dog people.

Two dogs, carefully cleaned and combed, or
bnished, are carried in a man's arms for street-
vending. A fine chain is genemlly attached to a
neat collar, so that the dog can be relieved from
the cramped feel he will experience if kept off bis
feet too long. In carrying these little animals for
sale — for it is the smaller dogs which are carried
— the men certainly display them to the best ad-
vantage. Their longer silken ears, their prominent
dark eyes and black noses, and the delicacy of
their fore-paws, are made as prominent as possible,
and present what the masses very well call " quite
a pictur." I have alluded to the display of the
Spanish, as they constitute considerably more
than half of the street trade in dogs, the " King
Charleses" and the " Blenheims" being disposed m
in nearly equal quantities. They are sold for lap-
dogs, pets, carriage companions or companions in
a walk, and are often intelligent and affectionate.
Their colours are black, black and tan, white and
liver-colour, chestnut, black and white, and entirely

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR,

58

ith many ihades of these hues, and inter-
t of them, one with another, and with

mall Terriers are, however, coming more
bion, or, aa the hawkers call it, into
" They are usually black, with tanned
and feet, and with a keen look, their
ig short and smooth. Some, however, are
I with long and somewhat wiry hair, and
IT is often strongly mixed with gray. A
le of Skye terrier — but few, I was in-
mow a " real Skye " — is sometimes car-
the streets, as well as the little rough
>wn as Scotch terriers. When a street-
u a litter of terrier pups, he invariably
the handsomest for the streets, for it
— my informant did not know why, but
tthers were positive that so it was — that
dsomest is the worst; ''the worst," it
understood as regards the possession of
M>rting qualities, more especially of pluck.
ier's education, as regards his prowess in
, is accordingly neglected ; and if a gen-
isk, " Will he kill rats 1 " the answer is in
,tive ; but this is no disparagement to the
aQse the dog is sold, perhaps, for a kdy's
is not wanted to kill rats, or to '' fight
of his weight."

^uffi, for which, 40 to 50 years ago, and,
inished degree, 80 years back, there was,
phrase of the day, "quite a rage," pro-
ily the pug was hideous, are now never
n the streets, or so rarely, that a well-
lealer assured me he had only sold one in
!ts for two years. A Leadenhall trades-
id of dogs, but in no way connected with
e, told me that it came to be looked upon,
Bg was a fit companion for only snappish
Is, and '' so the women wouldn't have them
;er, least of all the old maids."
A Poodle* are also of rare street-sale.
1 had a white poodle two or three years
at and so round, that a kdy, who priced
told by a gentleman with her, that if
1 and the short legs were removed, and
le scooped out, tlie animal would make a
noiF; yet even that poodle was difficult
It 50s,

ionally also an Italian Oreyhound, secm-
l and shivery on the wannest days, is
1 a hawker's amis, or if following on foot,
ig and looking sad, as if mentally mur-
st the climate.

ch pkces as the banks of the Serpentine,
le Regent's-park, the hawker does not
I dogs in his arms, so much as let them
Ig with him in a body, and they are sure
;t attention ; or he sits down, and they
sleep about him. One dealer told me that
often took such a fiincy for a pretty
that it was difficult for either mother,
IS, or nurse, to drag them away until the
s requested to call in the evening, bringing
m the dog, which was very often bought,
swker recompensed for his loss of time,
netimes the dog-dealers, I heard from

several, meet with great shabbiness among rich
people, who recklessly give them no small troublei
and sometimes put them to expense without the
slightest return, or even an acknowledgment or a
word of apology. ** There 's one advantage in my
trade," said a dealer in live animals, " we always
has to do with principals. There 's never a Uidy
would let her most fiivouritest maid choose her dog
for her. So no parkisits."

The species which I have enumerated are all
that are now sold in the streets, with the excep-
tion of an odd "plum-pudding," or coach-dog (the
white dog with dark spots which runs after car-
riages), or an odd bull-dog, or bull-terrier, or
indeed with the exception of "odd dogs" of every
kind. The hawkers are, however, connected with
the trade in sporting dogs, and often through the
medium of their street traffic, as I shall show
under the next head of my subject.

There is one peculiarity in the hawking of fiincy
dogs, which distinguishes it from all other branches
of street-commerce. The purchasers are all of the
wealthier class. This has had its influence on the
manners of the dog-sellers. They will be found,
in the majority of cases, quiet and deferential
men, but without servility, and with little of the
quality of speech ; and I speak only of speech
which among English people is known as
"gammon," and among Irish people as "blar-
ney." This manner is common to many; to the
established trainer of race-horses for instance,
who is in constant communication with persons in
a very superior position in life to his own, and to
whom he is exceeduigly deferentia]. But the
trainer feels that in all points connected with his
not very easy business, as well, perhaps, as in
general turf knowingness, his royal highness (as
was the case once), or his grace, or my lord, or Sir
John, was inferior to himself; and so with all his
deference there mingles a strain of quiet contempt,
or rather, perhaps, of conscious superiority, which
is one ingredient in the formation of the manners I
have hastily sketched.

The customers of the street-hawkers of dogs are
ladies and gentlemen, who buy what may have
attracted their admiration. The kept mistresses
of the wealthier classes are often excellent cus-
tomers. "Many of *em, I know," was said to
me, " dotes on a nice spaniel. Yes, and I 've
known gentlemen buy dogs for their misses; I
couldn't be mistaken when I might be sent on
with them, which was part of the bargain. If it
was a two-guinea dog or so, I was told never to
give a hint of the price to the servant, or to any-
body. / know why. It's easy for a gentleman
that wants to please a lady, and not to lay out any
great matter of tin, to say that what had really
cost him two guineas, cost him twenty." If one
of the working classes, or a small tradesman, buy
a dog in the streets, it is generally because he is
" of a fiincy turn,"land breeds a few dogs, and
traffics in them in hopes of profit.

The homes of the dog-hawkers, as fiff as I had
means of ascertaining— and all I saw were of the
same character—are comfortable and very cleanly.
The small spaniels, terriers, &c., — I do not now

H

LOUDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

illude to sporting dogi — ar« generallj kept in
kennels, or in small wooden houses erected for the
purpose in a back garden or ]rard. These abodes
are generally in some open court, or little square
or " grove," where there is a free access of air.
An old man who was sitting at his door in the
summer evening, when I called upon a dog-seller,
and had to wait a short time, told me that so
quiet were his next-door neighbour's (the street-
hawker's) dogs, that for some weeks, he did not
know his newly-come neighbour was a dog-man ;
although he was an old nervous man himself, and
couldn't bear any unpleasant noise or smell. The
scrupulous observance of cleanliness is necessary
in the rearing or keeping of small fancy dogs, for
without such observance the dog would have a
disagreeable odour about it, enough to repel any
lady-buyer. It is a not uncommon decUration
among dog-sellers that the animals are '' as sweet
as nuta." Let it be remembered that I have been
describing the class of regular dog-sellers, making,
by an open and established trade, a tolerable
livelihood.

The spaniels, terriers, &c., the stock of these
hawkers, are either bred by them— and they uU
breed a few or a good many dogs — or they are
purchased of dog-dealers (not street-sellers), or of
people who having a good fiincy breed of " King
Charleses," or " Blenheims," rear dogs, and sell
them by the litter to the hawkers. The hawkers
also buy dogs brought to them, " in the way of
business," but they are wary how they buy any
animal suspected to be stolen, or they may get
into *' trouble." One man, a carver and gilder, I
was informed, some ten years back, made a good
deal of money by his " black-patched" spaniels.
These dogs had a remarkable black patch over
their eyes, and so fond was the dngfjincier, or
breeder of them, that when he disposed of them
to street-sellers or others, he usually gave a por-
trait of the animals, of his own rude painting, into
the bargain. These paintings he also sold, slightly
framed, and I have seen them — but not so much
lately — offered in the streets, and hung up in
poor persons' rooms. This man lived in York-
square, behind the Colosseum, then a not very
reputable quarter. It is now Munster-square, and
of a reformed character, but the seller of dogs and
the donor of their portraits has for some time been
lost sight of.

The prices at which fancy-dogs are sold in the
streets are about the same for all kinds. They
run from 10«. to 51. 5s., but are very rarely so
low as 10s. f as " it's only a very scrubby thing for
that." Two and three guineas are frequent street
prices fur a spaniel or small torrior. Of the dogs
sold, as I have before stated, more than one-half
are spaniels. Of the remainder, more than one-half
are terriers ; and the surplusage, after this reckon-
ing, is composed in about equiil numbers of the
other dogs I have mentioned. The exportation
of dogs is not above a twentieth of what it wns
before the appointment of the Select Committee,
but a French or Belgium dealer sometimes comes
to London to buy dogs.

It is not easy to fix upon any per-centage as to

the profit of the street dog-aellen. TImm if tkt
keep and the rearing of the animal to eoniid«;
and there is the same uncertainty in the timffie ai
in all traffics which depend, not upon a dtnmd
for use, but on the caprieet of fiuhion, ov — to mm
the more appropriate word, when writing on neh
a subject — of " fimcy." A hawker may mU tkrat
dogs in one day, without any extraordinary dbrly
or, in the same manner of trading, and fireqjiwniaDg
the very same places, may sell only one in thrsa
days. In the winter, the dogs are aometimes of-
fered in public houses, but seldom as ttgudM the
higher-priced animals.

From the best data I can command, it appcan
that each hawker sells " three doga and a hal( if
you take it that way, splitting a dog like, evwy
week the year through ; that is, sir, four or five
one week in the summer, when trade 's brisk and
days are long, and only two or three the next
week, when trade may be flat, and in winter
when there isn't the same chance." Galcn1atia|^
then, that seven dogs are sold by each hawker in a
fortnight, at an average price of 60s. each, which
is not a high average, and supposing that but
twenty men are trading in this line the yeir
through, we find that no less a sam than 910<M.
is yearly expended in this street-trade. The weekly
profit of the hawker is from 25s. to 40it. Mors
than seven-eighths of these dogs are bred in this
country, Italian greyhounds included.

A hawker of dogs gave roe a statement of hb
life, but it presented so little of incident or of
change, that I need not report it. He had as>
sifeted and then succeeded his father in the hasi*
ness; was a pains-taking, temperate, and m-
dustrious man, seldom taking even a glass of ale,
so that the tenour of his way had been even, and
he was prosperous enough.

I will next give nn account of the connection
of the hawkers of dngi with the "sporting" or
" fancy " part of the business ; and of the present
state of dog ** tinding/' to show the change since
the parliamentary investigation.

I may observe that in this traffic the word
** fancy " has two significations. A dog recom-
mended by its beauty, or any peculiarity, so that
it be suitable fur a pet dog, is a " fancy " animal ;
so is he if he be a fightor, or a killer of rats, however
ugly or common-luoking ; but the term ''sporting
d<ig " seems to bccf)me more and more used in this
case : nor i« the first-mentioned use of the word
" fancy," at all strained or very original, for it is
lexicographically defined as *' an opinion bred
rather by the imagination than the reason, in*
ciination, liking, c.ipricc, humour, whim, frolick,
idle scheme, vagary."

Of the Stkeet-Sbllers of Sportiieo Doos.
The use, if use it may be styled, of sporting, or
fighting dogs, is now a mere nothing to what it
once was. There are many sports — an appellation
of many a brute cruelty — which have become ex-
tinct, some of them long extinct. Herds of bears,
for instance, were once maintained in this country,
merely to be baited by dogs. It was even a part
of royal merry-making. It was a sport altogether

LOIfDOir LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

55

eongcnkl to th« fpirit of Henry YIII. ; and when
hit daoghter, then Qaeen Mary, Tiiited her sister
Elisabeth at Hatfield Home, now the residence
of the Marqaesa of Salisbury, there xm» a bear-
baiting for their delectation— after mats. Queen
Blisal^h, on her aocession to the throne, seems
to havo been very partial to the baiting of bears
and of bolls ; for ihe not unfrequently welcomed
a foreign ambanador with such exhibitionB. The
historians of the day intimate — they dared do no
mom — ^that Blinbeth aflected these rough sports
ikB most in the dedine of life, when she wished
to seem still sprightly Jsctire, and healthfbl, in the
•yaa of her courtiers and her subjects. Laneham^
whose Tsraeity has not been impeached — ^though
Sir Walter Scott has pronounced him to be as
thorough a coxcomb as ever blotted paper — thus
dooorites a bear-bait in presence of the Queen,
and after ({noting his description I gladly leave
tho subject I oiake the citation in order to show
and contrast the former with the present use of
porting dogs.

" It was a sport Tery pleasant to see the bear,
with his pink eyes leering after his enemies, ap-
proach; tho nimbleness and wait of the dog to
take his adTantage ; and the force and experience
9i the bear again to avoid his assaults : if he were
bitten in one place, how he would pinch in an-
other to get free; that if he were taken once,
then by what shift with biting, with clawing,
with roaring, with tossing and tumbling, he would
work and wind himself from them ; and, when he
was loose, to shake his ears twice or thrice, with
tho blood and the slaver hanging about his phy-
siognomy.

The suffering which constituted the great de-
light of the tpoti was even worse than this, in
bull-baiting, for the bull gored or tossed the dogs
to death more frequently than the bear worried
or crushed them.

The principal place for the carrying on of these
barbarities was at Paris Garden, not fiir from St.
Saviour's Church, Southwark. The clamour, and
wrangling, and reviling, with and without blows,
at these places, gave a proverbial expression to the
language. ''The place was like a bear-garden,"
for •* gardens" they were called. These pastimes
beguiled the Sunday afternoons more than any
other time, and were among the chief delights of
the people, ** until," writes Dr. Henry, collating
the opinions of the historians of the day, " until
the refined amusements of the drama, possessing
themselves by degrees of the public taste, if they
did not mend the morals of the age, at least forced
brutal barbari^ to quit the stage."

Of this sport in Queen Anne's days, Strutt's
industry has collected advertisements telling of
bear and bull-baiting at Hockley-in-the-Hole,
and " Tuttle "-fields, Westminster, and of dog-
fights at the same places. Marylebone was
mother locality iiamous for these pastimes, and
for its breed of mastifis, which dogs were most
nied for baiting the bears, whilst bull-dogs
Were the antagonists of the bull. Gay, who
wu a sufficiently close observer, and a dose
obistver of stnot-lifo too, as is well shown in

^No. XXX. *— —

his " Trivia," specifies these localities in one of
his fobles : —

" Both Hockley-hole and Mary-bone
The combftts of my dog have known."

Hockley-hole was not far from Smithfield-narket

In the same localities the practice of these
sports lingered, becoming less and less every year,
until about the middle of the last century. In
the country, bull-baiting was practised twenty
times more commonly than bear-oaiting ; for bulls
were plentiful, and bears were not. There are,
perhaps, none of our older country towns without
the relic of its bull-ring — a strong iron ring in-
serted into a large stone in the pavement, to which
the baited bull was tied ; or a knowledge of the
site where the bull-ring was. The deeds of the
baiting-dogs were long talked of by the vulgar.
These sports, and the dog-fights, maintained the
great demand for sporting dogs In former times.

The only sporting dogs now in request — apart,
of course, from hunting and shooting (renmants
of the old barbarous delight in torture or
slaughter), for I am treating only of the street-
trade, to which fox-hounds, harriers, pointers,
setters, cockers, &c., &c., are unknown — are
terriers and bull-terriers. Bull-dogs cannot now
be classed as sporting, but only as fimcy dogs, for
they are not good fighters, I was informed, one
with another, their mouths beine too small.

The way in which the sale of sporting dogs is
connected with street-traffic is in this wise : Oc-
casionally a sporting-dog is ofifered for sale in the
streets, and then, of course, the trade is direct. At
other times, gentlemen buying or pricing the
smaller dogs, ask the cost of a bull-dog, or a bull-
terrier or rat-terrier, and the street-seller at once
offers to supply them, and either conducts them to
a dog-dealer's, with whom he may be commercially
connected, and where they can purchase those
dogs, or he waits upon them at their residences
with some "likely animals." A dog-dealer told
me that he hardly knew what made many gentle-
men so fond of bull-dogs, and they were "th6
fonder on 'em the more blackguarder and, varmint-
looking the creatures was," although now they
were useless for sport, and the great praise of a
bull-dog, " never fiew but at head in his life,'* was
no longer to be given to him, as there were no
bulls at whose heads he could now fly.

Another dog-dealer informed me — with what
truth as to the judgment concerning horses I do
not know, but no doubt with accuracy as to the
purchase of the dogs — that Ibrahim Pacha, when
in London, thought little of the horses which he
saw, but was delighted with the bull-dogs, " and
he weren't so werry unlike one in the £ace his-
self," was said at the time by some of the fancy.
Ibrahim, it seems, bought two of the finest
and largest bull-dogs in London, of Bill George,
giving no less than 70/. for the twain. The bull-
dogs now sold by the street-folk, or through their
agency in the way I have described, are from
6/. to 251. each. The bull-terriers, of the best
blood, are about the same price, or perhaps 10 to
15 per cent lower, and rarely attaining the tip-
top price.

K

56

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

The bull-terriers, aa I have stated, are now the
chief fighting-dogs, but the patrons of those com-
bats— of those small imitations of the savage tastes
of the Roman Colosseum, may deplore tlie decay
of the amusement. From the beginning, until well
on to the termination of the last century, it was
not uncommon to see announcements of " twenty
dogs to fight for a collar," though such advertise-
ments were far more common at the commence-
ment than towards the close of the century. Until
within these twelve years, indeed, dog-matches
were not unfrequent in London, and the favourite
time for the regalement was on Sunday mornings.
There were dog-pits in Westminster, and elsewhere,
to which the admission was not very easy, for
only known persons were allowed to enter. The
expense was considerable, the risk of punishment
was not a trifle, and it is evident that this Sunday
game was not svpported hy the poor or leorking
elaucM. Now dog-fights are rare. " There 's not
any public dog-fights," I was told, "and very
seldom any in a pit at a public-house, but there 's
a good detd of it, I know, at tht prii'oie hou»t» of
the nobs,'* I may observe that ** the nobs ' is a
common designation for the rich among these sport-
ing people.

There are, however, occasionally dog-fights in a
sporting-house, and the order of the combat is
thus described to me : '* We '11 say now that it 's a
scratch fight ; two dogs have each their comer of
a pit, and they're set to fight. They'll fight
on till they go down together, and then if one
leave hold, he 's sponged. Thrn they fight ngain.
If a dog has the worst of it he mustn't be picked
up, but if he gets into his comer, then he can
stay for as long as may be agreed upon, minute
or half-minute time, or more than a minute. If
a dog won't go to the scratch out of his comer,
be loses the fight If they fight on. why to
settle it, one must be killed — though that very
seldom happens, for if a dog's very much pu-
nished, he creeps to his comer and don't come out
to time, and so the fight 's settled. Sometimes
it 's agreed beforehand, that the master of a dog
may give in for him ; sometimes that isn't to bo
allowed ; but there 's next to nothing of this now,
unless it 's in private among the nobs."

It hns been said that a sportsman — perhaps in
the relations of life a benevolent man — when he
has failed to kill a grouse or pheasant outright, and
proceeds to grasp the fluttering and agonised bird
and smash its skull against the Imrrel of his gun,
reconciles himself to the suflferings he inflicts by
the j>rid€ of art, the consciousness of skill — he has
brought down his bird at a long shot ; that, too,
when he cares nothing for the possession of the
bird. The same feeling hardens him against the
most piteous, woman-like cry of the hare, so shot
that it cannot run. Be this as it may, it cannot
be urged that in matching a favourite dog there
can be any such feeling to destroy the sympathy.
The men who thus amuse themselves are then
utterly insensible to any pang at the infliction of
pain upon animals, witnessing the infliction of it
merely for a passing excitement : and in this
insensibility the whole race who cater to such

recreations of the wealthy, af well as the wealtby
themselves, participate. There is another feeling
too at work, and one proper to the tportmg cha-
racter—every man of this class coniidert the
glories of his horse or his dog hit own, a fiseling
▼ery dear to selfishness.

The main sport now, howerer, in which dogi
are the agenU is rat-hunting. It is called bantings
but as the raU are all confined in a pit it U men
like mere killing. Of this sport I hare given
some account under the head of rat«atehing. The
dogs used are all terriers, and are often the pixipeitj
of the street-sellers. The most accomplished of
this terrier race was the fiunona dog Billy, the
eclipse of the rat pit. He is now enshrined — ^fiir
a stuflfed carcase is all that remains of Billy — in
a case in the possession of Charley Hodop of
the Seven Bells behind St. Giles's Church, with
whom Billy lived and died. His great feat was
that he killed 100 rau in five minutes. I ander-
stand, however, that it is still a moot point in the
sporting worid, whether Billy did or did not
exceed the five minutes by a very few seeonds. A
merely average terrier will easily kill fifty rats in
a pit in eight minutes, but many far exceed snch a
number. One dealer told me that he vronld back
a terrier bitch which did not weigh 12 lbs. to kill
100 raU in six minutes. The price of th^e dogs
ranges with that of the buU- terriers.

The passion for ra^hunting is evidently on the
increase, and seems to have attained the popu-
larity once vouchsafed to cock-fighting. There
are now about seventy reguUr pits in London,
besides a few that are run up for temporary pur-
poses. The landlord of a house in the Borough,
familiar with these sports, told me that they
would soon have to breed rats for a sufficient
supply I

But it is not for the encounter with dogs alone,
the issue being that so many raU shall be killed
in a given time, that these vermin are becoming a
trade commodity. Another use for them is an-
nounced in the following card : —

A FERRET MATCH.

A Rare Evening's Sport for the Fancy will take place
at the

STREET. NEW ROAD,

On Tuesday Eecmng nextf May 87.

Mr.

hu backed hia Ferret against Mr. W. B 's Ferret to

kill 6 Hats each, for 1<I#. a-ude.

He is still open to match his Ferret for £\ to jE,'5 to kill
aKainst any other Ferret in London.

Tito Uhfr Matches with Terrierg will come tfff the mmt
Evening,

Matches take place every Evening. Rata always

on hand for the accommodation of Gentlemen to try
their dof^s.

Under the Management of -

As a rat-killer, a ferret is not to be compared
to a dog; but his use is to kill rats in holesy

LOITDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR

67

inaeeenible to dogs, or to drire the rermin out of
their holes into some open space, where they can
be destroyed. Ferrets are worth from 11. to il.
They are not animals of street-sale.

The management of these sports is principally
in the hands of the street dog-sellers, as indeed is
the dog-trade generally. They are the breeders,
dealers, and sellers. They are compelled, as it
were, to exhibit their dogs in the streets, that
they may attract the attention of the rich, who
would not seek them in their homes in the suburbs.
The erening business in rat-hnnting, &c, for such
it is principally, perhaps doubles the incomes I
hare specified as earned merely by itnetrtale. The
amoont ** turned over " in the trade in sporting-
dngs yearly in London, was computed for me by
one of the traders at from 12,000/. to 15,000/.
He could not, however, lay down any very precise
statistics, as some bull-dogs, bull-terriers, &c., were
bred by butchers, tanners, publicans, horseKlealers,
and others, and disposed of privately.

In my account of the former condition of the
dog-trade, I had to dwell principally on the steal-
ing and restoring of dogs. This is now the least
part of the subject. The alteration in the law,
oonsequent upon the parliamentary inquiry, soon
wrought a great change, especially the enactment
of the 6th Sect in the Act 8 and 9 Vict. c. 47.
" Any person who shall corruptly take any money
or reward, directly or indirectly, under pretence
or upon account of aiding any person to recover
any dog which shall have been stolen, or which
shall be in the possession of any person not being
the owner thereof, shall be guilty of a misdemean-
our, and punishable accordingly."

There may now, I am informed, be half a dozen
fellows who make a precarious living by dog-steal-
ing. These men generally keep out of the way
of the street dog-sellers, who would not scruple,
they assure me, to denounce their practices, as
the more security a purchaser feels in the property
and possession of a dog, the better it is for the
regular business. One of these dog-stealers, dressed
like a lime-burner — they generally appear as me-
chanics— was ktely seen to attempt the enticing
away of a dog. Any idle good-for-nothing fel-
low, slinking about the streets, would also, I
was informed, seize any stray dog within his
reach, and fell it for any trifle he could obtain.
One dealer told me that there might still be a
little doing in the "restoring" way, and with
that way of life were still mixed up names which
figured in the parliamentary inquiry, but it was
a mere nothing to what it was formerly.

From a man acquainted with the dog business
I had the following account. My informant was
not at present connected with the dog and rat
business, but he seemed to have what is called a
" hankering after it." He had been a pot-boy in
bis youth, and had assisted at the bar of public-
houses, and so had acquired a taste for sporting, as
some " fancy coves " were among the frequenters
of the tap-room and skittle-ground. He had
speculated a little in dogs, which a friend reared,
sod he sold to the public- house customers. " At

last I went slap into the dog-trade," he said,
" but I did no good at all There 's a way to do
it, I dare say, or perhaps you must wait to get
known, but then you may starve as you wait I
tried Smithfield first — ^it 's a good bit since, but I
can't say how long — and I had a couple of tidy
little terriers that we 'd bred ; I thought I 'd begin
cheap to turn over money quick, so I asked 12f.
a-piece for them. 0, in course they weren't a
weny pure sort But I couldn't sell at all. If a
grazier, or a butcher, or anybody looked at them,
and asked their figure, they 'd say, ' Twelve
shillings 1 a dog what ain't worth more nor 12s,
ain't worth a d — n ! ' I asked one gent a sove-
reign, but there was a hid near that sung out,
* Why, you only axed 12«. a bit since ; ain't you
a-coming it V After that, I was glad to get away.
I had five dogs when I started, and about 1/. 8«. 6d:
in money, and some middling clothes; but my
money soon went, for I could do no business,''and
there was the rent, and then the dogs must be
properiy fed, or they 'd soon show it At last,
when things grew uncommon taper, I almost
grudffed the poor things their meat and their sop,
for they were filling their bellies, and I was an
'ung'ring. I got so seedy, too, tlmt it was no use
trying the streets, /or any one would think I 'd
stole the dogs. So I sold them one by one. I
think I got about 5t. apiece for them, for people
took their advantage on me. After that I fiisted
oft enough. I helped about the pits, and looked
out for jobs of any inind, cleaning knives and spit-
toons at a public-house, and such-like, for a bite
and sup. And I sometimes got leave to sit up all
night in a stable or any out-house with a live rat
trap that I could always borrow, and catch rats to
sell to the dealers. If I could get three lively rats
in a night, it was good work, for it vras as good as
Is. to me. I sometimes won a pint, or a tanner,
when I could cover it, by betting on a rat-hunt
with helpers like myself — but it was only a few
places we were let into, just where I was known
— 'cause I 'm a good judge of a dog, you see, and
if I had it to try over again, I think I could knock a
tidy living out of dog-selling. Yes, I 'd like to try well
enough, but it 's no use trying if you haven't a
fairish bit of money. I 'd only myself to keep all this
time, but that was one too many. I got leave to sleep
in hay-lofts, or stables, or anywhere, and I have
slept in the park. I don't know how many
months I was living this way. I got not to mind
it much at last. Then I got to carry out the day
and night beers for a potman what had hurt his
foot and couldn't walk quick and long enough for
supplying his beer, as there was five rounds every
day. He lent me nn apron and a jacket to be
decent After that I got a potman's situation.
No, I 'm not much in the dog and rat line now,
and don't see much of it, for I 've very little
opportunity. But I 've a very nice Scotch terrier
to sell -if you should bo wanting such a thing, or
hear of any of your friends wanting one. It 's
dirt cheap at 30*., just about a year old. Yes, I
generally has a dog, and swops and sells. Most
masters allows that in a quiet respectable way."

08

LONDON LABOUR AND THB LONDON POOR,

Or THE ST&m-SiLLiits or Live Birds.

Thi bird-je//tfrf in the ttreeU are alio the bird-
eatektrt in the fieldf, plaint, heaths, and wooda,
which ttill tarround the metropolit ; and in com-
pliance with ettablithed precedent it may be
proper that I ■honld giro an account of the catch-
ing, before I proceed to any further itatement of
the proceduree tubiequent thereunto. The bird-
catchen are precisely what I have deicribed them
in my introductory remarks. An intelligent man,
Terted in cTery part of the bird butincM, and well
acquainted with the character of all engaged in it,
■aid they might be represented as of *' the fiuicy,"
in a small way, and siways glad to run after, and
iiill of admiration o^ fighting men. The bird-
catcher^s life is one essentially Tsgrant ; a few
gipsies pursue it, and they mix little in street-
trades, except as regards tinkering ; and the mass,
not gipsies, who become bird-catchers, rarely leave
it for any other avocation. They " catch " unto
old age. During but winter two men died in the
parish of Clerkenwell, both turned seventy, and
both bird-catchers — a profession they had followed
from the age of six.

The mode of catching I will briefly describe.
It is principally effected by means ol nets. A
bird-net is about twelve yards square ; it is spread
flat upon the ground, to which it is secured by
four *' stars." These are iron pins, which are
inserted in the field, and hold the net, but so that
the two " wings," or ** flaps," which are indeed the
sides of the nets, are not confined by the stars.
In the middle of the net is a cage with a fine wire
roof, widely worked, containing the " call-bird."
This bird is trained to sing loudly and cheerily,
great care being bestowed upon iu tuition, and
its song attracts the wild birds. Sometimes a
few stuffed birds are spread about the cage as if
a flock were already assembling there. The bird-
catcher lies flat and motionless on the ground, 20
or 30 yards distant from the edge of the net. As
soon as he considers that a sufliciency of birds
have congregated around his decoy, he rapidly
draws towards him a line, called the ** pull-line,"
of which he has kept hold. This is so looped and
run within the edges of the net, that on being
smartly pulled, the two wings of the net colUpse
and fly together, the stars still keeping their hold,
and the net encircles the cage of the (»ll-bird, and
incloses in its folds all the wild birds allured
round it. In fact it then resembles a great cage
of net-work. The captives arc secured in cages —
the call-bird continuing to sing as if in mockery of
their struggles— or in hampers proper for the
purpose, which are carried on the man's back to
London.

The use of the call-bird as a means of decoy is
very ancient. Sometimes — and more especially
in the dark, as in the taking of nightingales— the
bird-catcher imitates the notes of the birds to be
captured. A small instrument has also been used
for the purpose, and to this Chaucer, although
figuratively, alludes: "So, the birde is begyled
with the merry voice of the foulers' whistel, when
it is closed in your nette."

Sometimes, in the pride of the i
catcher engages a coitennonger'a poney or doakaj
cart, and perhaps his boy, the betttr to oomvay
the birds to town. The net and ita appwatoi
cost 1/. The call-bird, if he hava % good wild
note— goldfinches and linnets being prineipaUy it
used— is worth 10s. at the least

The bird-cather'a life has many, and to Ibt
constitution of some minds, irresistible chanMi
There is the excitement of "sport" — not tho
headlong excitement of the chase, wharo tbo bleed
is stirred by motion and axeiase — but atill aped
surpassing that of the angler, who pliaa hit fiaeit
art to capture one fish at a time, while tbo bird*
catcher despises an individual captui% but aaeki
to ensnare a flock at one twitch of a line. Tbait
is, moreover, the attraction of idleneos, at least far
intervals, and sometimes long intervals — pcriuM
the great charm of fishing — and basking in tie

laiy sunshine, to watch the progress of the i
Birds, however, and more especially Iinnota» ait
caught in the winter, when it is not quite soch
holiday work. A bird-dealer (not a atreot-ealler)
told me that the greatest numbKsr of birds ba bad
ever heard of as having been caught at out poll
was nearly 200. My informant happened to bo
present on the occasion. ''Pulb" of 60, 100,
and 160 are not very unfrequent when tbo yooBf
broods are all on the wing.

Of the bird-catchers, including all who roiido
in Woolwich, Qreenwich, Hounalow, lalewortb,
Bamet, Oxbridge, and places of similar distance,
all working for the London market, thora ore
about 200. The localities where theao man
" catch," are the neighbourhoods of the plaees I
have mentioned as their residences, and at HoUo-
way, Hampstead, Highgate, Finchley, Battorsea,
Blackheath, Putney, Mortlake, Chiswick, Kick-
mond, Hampton, Kingston, Eltham, Garahalton,
Streatham, the Tootings, Woodford, Bppmg^
Snaresbrook, Walthamstow, Tottenham, Bdmoo-
ton — wherever, in fine, are open fields, plains, or
commons around the metropolis.

I will first enumerate the several birds sold in
the streets, as well as the supply to the shops by
the bird-catchers. I have had recourse to the
best sources of information. Of the number of
birds which I shall specify as "supplied," or
" caught," it must be remembered that a not- very-
small proportion die before they can be trained to
song, or inured to a cage life. I shall also give
the street prices. All the birds are caught by the
nets with call-birds, excepting such as I shall
notice. I take the singing birds first.

The Linnet is the cheapest and among the most
numerous of what may be called the London-caught
birds, for it is caught in the nearer suburbs, sack
as Holloway. The linnet, however, — the brown
linnet being the species — is not easily reared, and
for some time ill brooks confinement. About one-
half of those birds die after having been caged a
few days. The other evening a bird-catcher
supplied 26 fine linnets to a shopkeeper in Pen-
ton vi He, and next roominfl[ ten were dead. But
in some of those bird shops, and bird chambers
connected with the shops, the heat at tho timo

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

€9

the new bxeodi are caoglit and caged, ia ex-
ceMiTe; and the atmosphere, from the crowded
and eompnlaoiT fellowship of pigeons, and all
deeeriptioni ef small birds, with white rats,
kedgehogs, gainea-pigs, and other creatures, is
•Iten Tery foal ; so that the wonder is, not that
io many dia, bnt that so many sorriye.

Some bifd-connoissenn prefer the note of the
lomet to that of the canary, but this is fitf from a
ge&cnl prefinrenoe. The young birds are sold in
the streets at M, and id, each ; the older birds,
wbieh are aeeostomed to sing in their cages, from
Is. to 2«. M. The "catch" of linnets— none
being imported--may be estimated, for London
alone^ at 70,000 yearly. The mortality I hare
mentioned is confined chiefly to that year's brood.
One-tenth of the catch is sold in the streets. Of
the fvality of the street^old birds I shall speak
btreafter.

The BfUJyinehf which is bold, familiar, docile,
and eaaily attached, is a favourite cage-bird among
tiia Londoners ; I speak of course as regards the
body el the people. It is as readily sold in the
streeta as any other singing bird. Piping bull-
finehes are also a part of street'trade, but only to
a small extent, and with bird-sellers who can
cany them from their street pitches, or call on
tb«r rounds, at places where they are known, to
exhibit the powers of the bird. The piping is
taoght to these finches when very young, and they
most be brought up by their tutor, and be familiar
with him. When little more than two months
eld, they begin to whistle, and then their training
as pipers must commence. This tuition, among
professional bullfinch-trainers, is systematic. They
haTO aeboela of birds, and teach in bird-classes of
from finir to seven members in each, six being a
frequent number. These classes, when their edu-
cation eommenoes, are kept unfed for a longer
time than they hare been accustomed to, and they
are plaeed in a darkened room. The bird is wake-
ful and attentife from the want of his food, and
the tone he is to learn is pkyed several times on
an instrament made for the purpose, and known
as a bird-organ, its notes resembling those of the
biUfineh. For an hour or two the young pupils mope
silently, bnt they gradually begin to imitate the
notes of the music played to (hem. When one
commences — and he is looked upon as the most
likely to make a good piper— the others soon
fiiUow bis example. The light is then admitted
sad a portion of food, but not a full meal, is given
to the birds. Thus, by degrees, by the playing
OB the bird-organ (a flute is sometimes used), by
the admission of light, which is always agreeable
to the finch, and by the reward of more and more,
sod sometimes more relishable food, the pupil
"practises** the notes he hears continuously. The
biids are then given into the care of boys, who
attend to them without intermission in a similar
way, their original teacher still overlooking, prais-
ing, or rating his scholars, till they acquire a
tane which they pipe as long as they live. It is
■ud, however, that only five per cent, of the num-
b«r taught pipe in vtirfect harmony. The bull-
iaeh it often pettish in his piping, and will in

many instances not pipe at all, unless in the
presence of some one who feeds it, er to whom il
has become attached.

The system of training I have described is that
practised by the Germans, who have for many
years supplied this country wKh the best piping
bullfinches. Some of the dealers will undertake
to procure English-taught bullfinches which will
pipe as well as the foreigners, but I am told
that this is a prejudice, if not a trick, of
trade. The mode of teaching in this country, by
barbers, weavers, and bird-fiinciers generally, who
seek for a profit from their pains-taking, is some*
what similar to that which I have detailed, but
with fitf less elaborateness. The price of a piping
bullfinch is about three guineas. These pipers are
also reared and taught in Leicestershire and Nor-
folk, and sent to London, as are the singing bull-
finches which do not *' pipe."

The bullfinches netted near London are caught
more numerously about Honnslow than elsewhere.
In hard winters they are abundant in the out-
skirts of the metropolis. The yearly supply,
including those sent frt>m Norfolk, &c., is about
80,000. The bullfinch is "hearty compared to
the linnet," I was told, but of the amount which
are the objects of trade, not more than two-thirds
live many weeks. The price of a good young
bullfinch is 2«. ^. and St. They are often sold
in the streets for 1«. The hawking or street
trade comprises about a tenth of the whole.

The sale of piping bullfinches is, of course,
small, as only the rich can afford to buy them. A
dealer estimated it at about 400 yearly.

The Ooldfinch is also in demand by street cus-
tomers, and is a favourite firom its liveliness,
beauty, and sometimes sagacity. It is, moreover,
the longest lived of our caged small birds, and will
frequently live to the age of fifteen or sixteen
years. A goldfinch has been known to exist
twenty-three years in a cage. Small birds, gene-
rally, rarely live more than nine years. This
finch is also in demand because it most readily of
any bird pairs with the canary, the produce being
known as a "mule,** which, from its prettiness
and powers of song, is often highly valued.

6h)ldfinches are sold in the streets at from 6c?.
to If. each, and when there is an extra catch, and
they are nearly all caught about London, and the
shops are fully stocked, at Sc?. and id, each. The
yearly catch is about the same as that of the linnet,
or 70,000, the mortality being perhaps 80 per
cent If any one casts his eye over the stock of
hopping, chirping little creatures in the window of
a bird-shop, or in the close array of small cages
hung outside, or at the stock of a street-seller, he
will be struck by the preponderating number of
goldfinches. No doubt the dealer, like any other
shopkeeper, dresses his window to the best advan-
tage, putting forward his smartest and prettiest
birds. The demand for the goldfinch, especially
among women, is steady and regular. The street-
sale is a tenth of the whole.

The Chaffinch is in less request than either of
its congeners, the bullfinch or the goldfinch, but
the catch ia about half that of the bullfinch, and

60

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

with the lame rate of mortality. The prices are
also the same.

OreenJiMh€$ (called grten lii'ds, or sometimes
ffreen linneU, in the streets) are in still smaller
request than are chaffinches, and that to about
one-half. Even this smaller stock is little sale-
able, as the bird is regarded as '* only a middling
singer.** They are sold in the open air, at 2d. and
dd. each, but a good " green bird" is worth 2s. 6d.

Larks are of good sale and regular supply,
being perhaps more readily caught than other
birds, as in winter they congregate in large
quantities. It may be thought, to witness the
restless throwing up of the head of the caged
sky-lark, as if he were longing for a soar in the
air, that he was very impatient of restraint. This
does not appear to be so much the fact, as the
lark adapts himself to the poor confines of his
prison — poor indeed for a bird who soars higher
and longer than any of his class — more rapidly
than other wild birds, like the linnet, ice. The
mortality of larks, however, approaches one-third.

The yearly ** take" of larks is GU,000. This in-
cludes sky-larks, wood-larks, tit-larks, and mud-
larks. The sky-lark is in far better demand than
any of the others for his " stoutness of song," but
some prefer the tit-h&rk, from the very absence of
such stoutness. " Fre«h-catched" larks arc vended
in the streeu at 6d. and 8c/., but a seasoned bird
is worth 2s, 6d. One-tenth is the street-sale.

The hvrks fur the supply of fashionable t«ibles
are never provided by the London bird-catchers,
who catch only " singing larks," for the shop and
street-traffic. The edible larks used to be highly
esteemed in pies, but they are now generally
ro;isted for consumption. They ore princi|)ally the
produce of Cambridgeshire, with some from Bed-
lordshire, and are sent direct (killed) to Lenden-
ball-market, where about 215,000 are sold ycaily,
being nearly two-thirds of the gross London con-
sumption.

It is only within these twelve or fifteen years
that the London dealers have cared to trade to any
extent in yajJUinyaUs, but they are now a part
of the stock of every bird-shop of the more flourish-
ing class. Before that they were merely exceptional
as cage-birds. As it is, the " domestication," if
the word be allowable with reference to the night-
ingale, is but partial. Like all migratory birds,
when the season for mignition np|»roaches, the
caged nightingale shows symptoms of great un-
easiness, dashing himself against the wires of his
cage or his aviary, and sometimes dying in a few
days. Many of the nightingales, however, let the
season psiss away without showing any couitcious-
ness that it was, with the race of birds to which
they belonged, one for a change of place. To
induce the nightingale to sing in the daylight, a
paper cover is often placed over the cngo, which
may be gradually and gradually withdrawn until
it&inbo dispensed with. This is to induce the
appearance of twilight or night. On the subject
of this night-singing, however, I will cite a short
passage.

" The Nightingale is usually supposed to with-
hold his notes till the sun has set, and then to be

the only songster left This ii, howeyer, not
quite true, for he sings in the day, often as sweetly
and as powerfully as at night; but amidst the
general chorus of other singing birds, his efibrts
are little noticed. Neither is he by any meuM
the only feathered musician of the night. Th«
Wood-Uirk will, to a very late hour, pour forth ita
rich notes, flying in circles round the female, when
sitting on her nest. The Sky-lark, too, may
frequently be heard till near midnight high in tlw
air, soaring as if in the brightness of a lomnMr'a
morning. Again we have listened with pleasine
long after dark to the warblings.of a Thrush, and
been awakened at two in the morning by iu
sweet serenade." It appears, however, that this
night-singing, as regards England, ii on fine
summer nights when the darkness is never very
dense. In far northern climates kurks sing all night

I am inclined to believe that the mortality
among nightingales, before they are lecondled to
their new life, is higher than that of any other
bird, and much exceeding one-half. The dealers
may be unwilling to admit this; but tuch mor-
tality is, I have been assured on good authority,
the case ; besides that, the habits of the nightin-
gale unfit him for a cage existence.

The capture of the nightingale is among the
most difficult achievements of the profession. None
are caught nearer than Epping, and the catchers
travel considerable distances before they have a
chance of success. These birds are caught at nighty
and more often by their captor's imitation of the
nightingale's note, than with the aid of the call-
bird. Perhaps 1000 nightingales are reared yearly
in London, of which three-fourths may be, more
or less, songsters. The inferior birds' are sold at
about 2s. each, the street-sale not reaching 100,
but the birds, " caged and singing," are worth I^
each, when of the best ; and 10#. 1 2s. and Ifis.
each when approaching the best. The mortality I
have estimated.

Jledbreasts are a portion of the street-sold birds,
but the catch is not large, not exceeding 8000,
with a mortality of about a third. Even this num-
ber, small ns it is, when compared with the numbers
of other singing birds sold, is got rid of with diffi-
culty. There is a popular feeling repugnant to
the imprisonment, or coercion in any way, of
** a robin,*' and this, no doubt has its influence in
moderating the demand, 'i he redbreast is sold,
when young, both in the shops and streets for li.,
when caged and singing, sometimes fur 1/. These
birds are considered to sing best by candlelight
The street-sale is a fifth, or sometimes a quarter,
all young birds, or with the rarest exceptions.

The Thrush, Throstle, or (in Scottish poetry)
Mavis, is of good sale. It is reared by hand, for
the London market, in many of the villages and
small towns at no great distance, the nesU being
robbed of the young, wherever they con be
found. The nestling food of the infant thrush
is grubs, worms, and snail:*, with an occasional
moth or butterfly. On tiiis kind of diet the
young thrushes are reared until they are old
enough for sale to the shopkeeper, or to any
private patron. Thrushes are also netted, but

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

61

tboM reued by band are mucb the best, as such
a rearing disposes the bird the more to enjoy his
cage life, as he has never experienced the delights
of the free hedges and thickets. This proceu
the catchers call "rising" from the nest A
throstle thus *' rose " soon becomes familiar with
his owner — always supposing that he be properly
fed and his cage duly cleaned, for all birds detest
dirt — and among the working-men of England no
bird is a greater faTourite than the thrush ; indeed
few other birds are held in such liking by the
artisan class. About a fourth of the thrushes
•applied to the metropolitan traders have been
thus ** roae,** and as they must be sufficiently grown
before they will be receired by the dealers, the
mortality among them, when once able to feed
tbemselTeB, in their wicker-work cages, is but
•malL Perhaps somewhere about a fourth perish
in this hand-rearing, and some men, the aristo-
crats of the trade, let a number go when they
haye ascertained that they are hens, as these men
exert themself es to bring up thrushes to sing well,
and then they command good prices. Often enough,
howeyer, the hens are sold cheap in the streets.
Among the catch supplied by netting, there is a
mortality of perhaps mere than a third. The
whole take is about 85,000. Of the sale the
streets have a tenth proportion. The prices run
from 2t, 6d. and 3«. for the *' fresh-caught," and
10s., IL, and as much as 21. for a seasoned throstle
in high song. Indeed I may obserye that for any
singing bird, which is considered greatly to excel
its mates, a high price is obtainable.

lUackbirdi appear to be less prized in London
than thrushes, for, though with a mellower note,
the bUckbird is not so free a singer in captivity.
They are "rose" and netted in the same manner
as the thrush, but the supply is less by one-fifth.
The prices, mortality, street-sale, &c, are in the
same ratio.

The street-sale of Canariet is not large; not
so large, I am assured by men in the trade, as it
was six or seven years ago, more especially as re-
garded the higher-priced birds of this open-air
traffic. Canaries are now never brought from the
group of islands, thirteen in number, situate in the
North Atlantic and near the African coast, and
from which they derive their name. To these
islands and to these alone (as far as is known to
ornithologists) are they indigenous. The canary is
a slow fljrer and soon wearied ; this is one reason
no doubt for its not migrating. This delightful
songster was first brought into England in the
reign of Elizabeth, at the era when so many
foreign luxuries (as they were then considered,
and stigmatised accordingly) were introduced;
of these were potatoes, tobacco, turkeys, necta-
rines, and canaries. I have seen no account of
what was the cost of a canary-bird when first
imported, but there is no doubt that they were
very dear, as they were found only in the abodes
of the wealthy. This bird-trade seeros, more-
over, to have been so profitable to the Spaniards,
then and now the posse;isors of the isles, that a
government order for the killing or setting at
liberty of all hen canaries, caught with the males.

was issued in order that the breed might be con-
fined to its native country ; a decree not attended
with successful results as regards the intention of
the then ruling powers.

The foreign supply to this country is now prin-
cipally from Holland and Germany, where canaries
are reared in great numbers, with that care which
the Dutch in especial bestow upon everything on
which money-making depends, and whence they
are sent or brought over in the spring of every year,
when from nine to twelve months old. Thirty
years ago, the.Tyrolesc were the principal breeders
and purveyors of canaries for the London market.
From about the era of the peace of 1814, on the
first abdication of Napoleon, for ten or twelve
years they brought over about 2000 birds yearly.
They travelled the whole way on foot, carrying
the birds in cages on their backs, until they
reached whatever port in France or the Nether-
lands (as Belgium then was) they might be bound
for. The price of a canary of an average quality was
then from 6#. to 8i. 6</., and a fair proportion
were street-sold. At that period, I was told, the
principal open-air sale for canaries (and it is only
of that I now write) was in Whitechapel and
Bethnal-green. All who are fiimiliar with those
localities may smile to think that the birds chirp-
ing and singing in these especially urban places,
were bred for such street-traffic in the valleys of
the Khsetian Alps ! I presume that it was the
greater rapidity of communication, and the conse-
quent diminished cost of carriage, between Eng-
land, Holland, and Germany, that caused the
Tyrolesc to abandon the trade as one unremune-
rative — even to men who will live on bread,
onions, and water.

I have, perhaps, dwelt somewhat at length on
this portion of the subject, but it is the most
curious portion of all, for the canary is the only
one of all our singing-birds which is ioUly a
household thing. Linnets, finches, larks, night-
ingales, thrushes, and blackbirds, are all free
denizens of the open air, as well as prisoners in
our rooms, but the canary with us is unknown in a
wild slate. •* Though not very handy," wrote, in
1848, a very observant naturalist, the late Dr.
Stanley, Bishop of Norwich, "canaries might pos-
sibly be naturalized in our country, by putting
their eggs in the nests of sparrows, chaffinches,
or other similar birds. The experiment has been
partially tried in Berkshire, where a person for
years kept them in an exposed aviary out of doors,
and where they seemed to suffer no inconvenience
from the severe;it weather."

The breeding of can;tries in this country for the
London supply has greatly increased. They are
bred in Leicester and Norwich, weavers being
generally fond of birds. In London itself, also,
they are bred to a greater extent than used to be
the case, barbers being among the most assiduous
rearers of the canary. A dealer who trades in
both foreign and home-bred birds thought that
the supply from the country, and from the Con-
tinent, was about the same, 8000 to 9000 each,
not including what were sold by the barber*, who
are regarded as " fisnciers," not to say interloper^.

BS

62

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR,

by the dealen. No ipedef of birdi are ever
bred by the tbop-deelen. The price of a briik
eanary ia 6«. or d«. ; but they are lold in the ttreeti
as low ai li. each, a iraall caffe worth 6d. being
•ometimei included. These, howoTer, are hens.
As in the life of a canary there is no transition
from freedom to enthralment, for they are in a
cage in the egg, and all their lives afterwards,
they are subject to a far lower rate of mortality
than other street-sold birds. A sixteenth of the
number above stated as forming the gross supply
are sold in the streets.

The foregoing enumeration includes all the
singing-birds of street-traffic and street-folk's
supply. The trade I have thus sketched is cer-
tainly one highly curious. We find that there is
round London a perfect belt of men, employed
from the first blush of a summer's dawn, through
the heats of noon, in many instances during the
night, and in the chills of winter ; and all labour-
ing to give to city-pent men of humble means one
of the peculiar pleasures of the country — the song
of the birds. It must not be supposed that I would
intimate that the bird-catcher's life, as regards his
field and wood pursuits, is one of hardship. On
the contrary, it seems to me to be the very one
which, perhaps unsuspected by himself, is best
suited to his tastes and inclinations. Nor can we
think similar pursuits partake much of hardship
when we find independent men follow them iit
mere sport, to be rid of lassitude.

But the detail of the birds captured for the
Londoners by no means ends here. I have yet
to describe those which are not songsters, and which
are a staple of street-traffic to a greater degree
than birds of song. Of these my notice may be
brief.

The trade in Sparrow is almost exclusively a
street-trade and, numerically considered, not an
inconsiderable one. They are netted in quantities
in every open place near London, and in many
places in London. It is common enough for a
bird-catcher to obtain leave to catch sparrows
in a wood-yard, a brick-field, or places where
is an open space certain to be frequented by
these bold and familiar birds. The sparrows are
sold in the streets generally at \d, each, some-
times halfpenny, and sometimes \\d», and for no
purpose of enjoyment (as in the case of the cheap
song birds), but merely as pkythings for children ;
in other words, for creatures wilfully or igno-
rantly to be tortured. Strings are tied to their
legs and so they have a certain degree of freedom,
but when they offer to fly away they are checked,
and kept fluttering in the air as a child will flutter
a kite. One man told me that he had sometimes
sold as many as 200 sparrows in the back streets
about Smithfield on a fine Sunday. These birds
are not kept in cages, and so they can only be
bought for a plaything. They oft enough escape
from their persecutors.

But it is not merely for the sport of children
that sparrows are purveyed, but for that of grown
men, or — as Charles Lamb, if I remember rightly.

qualifies it, when he draws » PeBtODTflU
man with a little shrubbery for his
grown cockneys. The birds fer adnlt rscrcatieK
are shot in sparrow-matches; the mtlemaa
slaughtering the most being, of eoorse, the kero of
a sparrow ** battmt/* One deal«r told me that ha
had fipequently supplied doaens of sparrows for
these matches, at 2i. the doien, bnt they were re-
quired to be fine bold birds ! One dealer dioi^t
that during the summer months there were as
many sparrows caught close to and within Lsn-
don as there were goldfinches in the lees urban
districts. These birds are sold direct firem the
hands of the catcher, so that it is leas easy te
arrive at statistics than when there ia the in-
tervention of dealers who know the extent of
the trade carried on. I was told by seretal^ wke
had no desire to exaggerate, that to eetiBate this
sparrow-sale at 10,000 yeariy, sold to cUUirsn
and idlers in the strsets, was too low, bnt at that
estimate, the ouUay, at Id, a sparrow, woold be
850/. The adult sportsmen may skwghter half
that number yearly in addition. The sporting
sparrows are derived from the shopkeepers, who^
when they receive the order, instract the calehen
to go to work.

Starlingt used to be sold in very great qnanti-
ties in the streeu, but the trade is now bnt the
shadow of its former state. The starting, too, is
for leu numerous than it was, and has loot mnch
of iu popuUurity. It is now seldom seen in flocks
of more than 40, and it is rare to see a flock at
all, although these birds at one period mnstersd
in congregations of hundreds and even thousands.
Buins, and the roofo of ancient houses and
bams— for they love the old and decaying build-
ings— were once covered with them. The starling
was moreover the poor man's and the peasant's
parrot. He was taught to speak, and sometimes
to swear. But now the starling, save as re-
gards his own note, is mute. He is seldom tamed
or domesticated and taught tricks. It ia true
starlings may be seen carried on sticks in the
street as if the tamest of the tame, but they are
** braced." Tapes are pessed round their bodies^
and so managed that the bird cannot eecape firon
the stick, while his fetters are concealed by his
feathers, the street-seller of course objecting to
allow his birds to be handled.

Starlings are caught chiefly Ilford way, I was
told, and about Turnham-green. Some are "rose"
from the nest The price is from 9(i. to 2s. each.
About 3000 are sold annually, half in the streets.
After having been braced, or ill-used, the starling,
if kept as a solitary bird, will often mope and
die.

Jachdawt and Afapput are in less demand than
might be expected from their vivacity. Many of
the other birds are supplied the year round, bnt
daws and pies for only about two months, from the
middle of June to the middle of August The
price is from 6d, to li. and about 1000 aie thus
disposed of, in equal quantities, one-half in the
streets. These birds are for the most part reared
from the nest, but little pains appear to be taken
with them.

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

68

Th« RtdpUi if fmtbflr a fiiTonrite bird amosg
ftreet-buyen, espeeiaUj where children are al-
lowed to cbooee birdi horn a stock. I am told
that thej meat frequentlx leleet a goldfinch or a
vedpole. Theee biidf are rapplied for about two
Donthi. Aboat 800 or 1000 it the extent of the
laka. The mortalitj and pricei are the nme as
with the goldfinch, bat a goldfinch in high song
is worth twioe as much as the best redpole.
Aboat a third of the sale of the redpole is in the

There art also 150 or 200 Blaei'Caps sohl an-
Bnally in tha open air, at from 3d.to 6(L each.

These are the chief birds, then, that constitate
the trade of the streets, with the addition of an
occammal yellow-hammer, wren, jay, or eyen
eockoo. They also, with the addition of pigeons,
form the stock of the bird-thops.

I have shown the number of birds caught, the
somber which sonriTe for sale, and the cost; and,
as nsnal, vnder the head of " Statistics," will be
•hown the whole annual expenditure. This, how-
arer, is but a portion of toe London outlay on
birds. There is, in addition, the cost of their
cages and ot their daily food. The commonest
and smallest cage costs 6<i, a frequent price being
Is. A thrashs basket-cage cannot be bought,
nnlasi rnbbish, under 2t. 6d, I hare preriously
ahown the amount paid for the green food of
birda, and for their turfr, &c, for these are all
branchea of street-commerce. Of their other food,
anch as rape and canary-seed, German paste,
chopped eggs, biscuit, &c., I need but intimate
the extent by showioff what birds will consume,
aa it is not a portion of street-trade.

A goldfinch, it has been proved by experimen-
talising ornithologists, will consume 90 grains, in
weis^t, of canary-seed in 24 hours. A green-
finch, for whose use 80 grains of wheat were
weighed out, ate 79 of them in 24 hours ; and, on
another occasion ate, in the same space of time,
100 grains of a paste of eggs and flour. Sixteen
canaries consumed 100 grains^ weight of food, each
bird, in 24 houn. The amount of provision thus
eaten was aboat one-sixth of the mil weight of
the bird's body, or an equvalent, were a man to
swallow victuals in the same proportion, of 25 lbs.
in 24 houn. I may remark, moreover, that the
dettrnetion of cateipiUars, insects, worms, &c.,
by the small birds, is enormous, especially during
tiie infimcy of their nestliogs. A pair of sparrows
fisd their brood 86 times an hour for 14 hours
of a long spring day, and, it was calculated, ad-
ministered to them m one week 8400 caterpillars.
A pair of chaffinches, also, carried nearly as great
a number of caterpiUars for the maintenance of
their young.

The singing-birds sold in the street are oflfored
either singly in small cages, when the cage is
s^ with the bird, or they are displayed in
a little flock in a long cage, the buyer selecting
any he prefers. They always appear lively in
the streets, or indeed a sale would be hopeless,
for no one would buy a dull or sick bird. The
eaptivea are seen to hop and heard to chirp, but

they are not often heard to sing when thus ofiered
to the public, and it requires some little attention
to judge what is but an impatient flatter, and
what is the fruit of mere hilarity.

The places where the street-sellen more espe-
cially ofler their birds are — Smithfield, Clerken-
well-green, Lisson-grove, the City and New roads.
Shepherdess-walk, Old Street-road, Shoreditch,
Spitalfields, Whiteehapel, Tower-hUl, Batelifle-
highway, Gommereial-read Sast, Poplar, Billings-
gate, Westminster Broadway, Covent-garden,
iBlackfriars-road, Bermondsey (mostly about Dock-
head), and in the neighbourhood of the Borough
Market. The street-sellen are also itberant,
carr3ring the birds in cages, holding them up to
tempt the notice of people whom they see at
the windows, or calling at the houses. The sale
used to be very considerable in the ** Cut" and
Lambeth-walk. Sometimea the cages with their
inmates'are fostened to any contiguous rail ; some-
times they are placed on a bench or stall ; and
occasionally in cages on the ground.

To say nothing, in this place, of the rogueries
of the bird-trade, I will proceed to show how the
street-sold birds are frequently inferior to those in
the shops. The catcher, jm I have stated, is also
the street-seller. He may reach the IHals, or
whatever quarter the dealer he supplies may re-
side in, with perhaps 80 linnets and as many
goldfinches. The dealer selects 24 of each, ro-
rosing the remaining dosen, on account of their
being hens, or hurt, or weakly Inrds. The man then
resorts to the street to effect a sale of that dosen,
and thus the streets have the refuse of the shops.
On the other hand, however, when the season is at
its height, and the take of birds is the largest, as
at this time of year, the shops are "stocked."
The cages and recesses are full, and the dealer's
anxiety is to sell before he purehases more birds.
The catchera proceed in their avocation; they
must dispose of their stock ; the shopkeeper will
not buy " at any figure," and so the streets are
again resorted to, and in this way fine birds are
often sold very cheap. Both these liabilities pre-
vail the year through, but most in the summer,
and keep up a sort of poise; but I apprehend that
the majority, perhaps the great majority, of the
street-sold birds, are of an inferior sort, but then
the price is much lower. On occasions when the
bird-trade is overdone^ the catchen will sell a
few squirrels, or gather snails for the shops.

The buyera of singing-birds are eminently the
working people, along with the chus of trades-
men whose means and disposition an of the
same character as those of the artisan. Grooms
and coachmen are. frequently fond of birds;
many are kept in the several mews, and often the
larger singing-birds, such as blackbirds and
thrushes. The fondness of a whole body of
artificers for any particular bird, animal, or flower,
is remarkable. No better instance need be cited
than that of the Spitalfields weavers. In the
days of their prosperity they were the cultivaton
of choice tulips, afterwards, though not in so full a
degree, of dahlias, and their pigeons were the
best '*fliefB" in Bngland. These things were

64

LONDON LABOUR AND TEE LONDON POOR,

accompluhed with little cost, compantirely, for
the weavert were engaged in tasks, grateful and
natural to their tastes and habitudes ; and what
was expense in the garden or aviary of the rich,
was an exercise of skill and industry on the |>art
of the silk-weaver. The humanising and even
refining influence of such pursuits is very great,
and as regards these pure pleasures it is not seldom
that the refinement which can appreciate them has
proceeded not to but /rom the artisans. The opera-
tives have often been in the van of those who have
led the public taste from delighting in the cruelty
and barbarity of bear and bull-baiting and of
cock-fighting — among the worst of all possible
schools, and very influential those schools wore —
to the delight in some of the most beautiful works
of nature. It is easy to picture the difference of
mood between a man going home from a dog-fight
at night, or going home from a visit to his flowers,
or from an examination to satisfy himself that his
birds were " all right." The families of the two
men felt the difference. Many of the rich appear
to remain mere savages in their tastes and sports.
Battues, lion and hippopotamus hunting, &c., — all
are mere civilixed barbarismt. When ihiUl we
learn, as Wordsworth says,

*' Never to blend our pleasure or our pride
With lorrow of the meanest thing that feels.**

But the change in Spitalfields is great. Since
the prevalence of low wages the weaver's garden
has disappeared, and his pigeon-cote, even if its
timbers have not rotted away, is no longer stocked
with carriers, dragoons, horsemen, jacobins, monks,
poulters, turtles, tumblers, fantails, and the many
varieties of what is in itself a variety — the fancy-
pigeon. A thrush, or a linnet, may still sing to
the chitter of the loom, but that is all. The
culture of the tulip, the dahlia, and (sometimes)
of the fuchsia, was attended, as I have said, with
small cost, still it vom cos^ and the weaver, as
wages grew lower, could not afford either the out-
lay or the loss of time. To cultivate flowers, or
rear doves, so as to make them a means of sub-
sistence, requires a man's whole time, and to
such things the Spitalfields man did not devote his
time, but his leisure.

The readers who have perused this work from
its first appearance will have noticed how fre-
quently I have had to comment on the always
realized indication of good conduct, and of a
superior taste and generally a superior intelli-
gence, when I have found the rooms of working
people contain flowers and birds. I could adduce
many instances. I have seen and heard birds in
the rooms of tailors, shoemakers, coopers, cabinet-
makers, hatters, dressmakers, curriers, and street-
sellers, — all people of the best class. One of the
most striking, indeed, was the room of a street-
confectioner. His fiimily attended to the sale of
the sweets, and he was greatly occupied at home
in their manufacture, and worked away at his
peppermint-rock, in the rery heart of one of the
thicklifest populated parts of London, surrounded
by the song of thrushes, linnets, and gold-
finches, all kept, not for profit, but because he
<4oved" to have them about him. I have

seldom met a man who impretsed me more
fiivourably.

The flowers in the room are more attributable
to the superintending taste of a wife or daughter,
and are found in the apartments of the same class
of people.

There is a marked difference between the buyers
or keepers of birds and of dogs in the working
classes, especially when the dog is of a sporting
or ** varmint " sort. Such a dug-kceper is often
abroad and so his home becomes neglected ; he is
interested about ra^hunts, knows the odds on
or against the dog's chance to dispatch his rats
in the time allotted, loses much time and cus-
tomers, his employers grumbling that the work ii
so slowly executed, and so custom or work fiUIs
off. The bird-lover, on the other hand, is gene-
rally a more domestic, and, perhaps consequently,
a more prosperous and contented man. It is
curious to mark the refining qualities of parti-
cular trades. I do not remember seeing a bull-
dog in the possession of any of the Spitalfields
silk-weavers : with them all was flowers and birds.
The same I observed with the tailors and other
kindred occupations. With slaughterers, however,
and drovers, and Billingsgatemen, and coachmen,
and cabmen, whose callings naturally tend to
blunt the sympathy with suffering, the gentler
tastes are comparatively unknown. The dogs are
almost all of the "varmint" kind, kept either for
rat-killing, fighting, or else for their ugliness.
For " pet " or " fancy " dogs they have no feeling,
and in singing birds they find little or no
delight.

Or THE BiBO-OiTonKBS WHO ARi Stbist-
Sellsbs.
Thb street-sellers of birds are called by them-
selves "hnwkers," and sometimes " bird hawkers."

Among the bird-catchers I did not hear of any
very prominent characters at present, three of the
best known and most prominent having died
within these ten months. I found among all I
saw the vagrant characteristics I have mentioned,
and often united with a quietness of speech and
manner which might surprise those who do not
know that any pursuit which entails frequent si-
lence, watchfulness, and solitude, forms such man-
ners. Perhaps the man most talked of by his fel-
low-labourers, was Old Q-ilham, who died lately.
Gilham was his real name, for among the bird-
catchers there is not that prevalence of nicknames
which I found among the costermougers and
patterers. One reason no doubt is, that these
bird-folk do not meet regularly in the markets.
It is rarely, however, that they know each other's
sumnmes. Old Gilham being an exception. It is
Old Tom, or Young Mick, or Jack, or Dick,
among them. I heard of no John or Kichard.

For 60 years, almost without intermission, Ohl
Gilham caught birds. I am assured that to state
that his " catch" during this long period averaged
100 a week, hens included, is within the mark,
for he was a most indefatigable man ; even at that
computation, however, he would have been the
captor, in his lifetime, of three hundred and twelve

STREET-SELLER OF BIRDS'NESTS.

I '•

LONDON LABOUR AND TRB LONDON POOR.

65

birds 1 A bird«ofttc]ier who uaed some-
itart in the morning with Old Gilham,
with him until their roada direrged, told
of Ute years the old man's taUc was a
of where he had captured his birds in
net : ' Whj, Ned/ he would saj to me,
bis companion, 'I We catched gold-
I lots at Chalk Farm, and iJl where
at railway smoke and noise just by the
irose Hill). I can't think where they 11
the birds to by and bye. I dare say
time the birds saw a railway with its
ad noise to frighten them, and all the
hey just thought it was the devil was
le wasn't a fool, wasn't old Qilham, sir,
e 'd go on for to say, ' I 've laid many a
iU*s Pond there, where it 's nothing but
houses now, and catched hundreds of
jid I Ve catched them where there 's all
id squares Pimlico way, and in Britannia
ad at White Condic. What with all
dings, and them barbers, I don't know
bird-trade '11 come to. It 's hard for a
to hare to go to Finchley for birds that
have catched at Holloway once, but
rer thinks of that When I were young
Doake three times as much as I do now.
I pound for a good sound chaffinch as I
ap myself.' Ah, poor old Gilham, sir ;
m could have seen him, he 'd haye told
me queer changes in his time."
pkeeper informed me that a bird-catcher
d to him of even ** queerer " changes. This
eight or ten years ago at an aidvanced
beyond the £ict of his offsring birds oc-
r at my informant's shop, where he was
icrely as " the old man," he could tell
ig of the ancient bird-catcher, except that
ery fond of a talk, and used to tell how
itched birds between fifty and sixty years,
often, when a lad, catched them where
dock in London now stands. "Where
oany a big ship now in deep water, I 've
locks of birds. I never catched birds
e at them docks," he would add, "as was
of the houses. Why, master, you '11 re-
heir pulling down St. Katherine's Church,
tiem rummy streets the t'other side of the
or a dock." As I find that the first dock
ed on the north side of the Thames,
i India dock, was not commenced until
1800, there seems no reason to dis-
be bird-catcher's statement. Among
sses of street-sellers I have had to remark
observation they extended to the changes
d, such as the extension of street-traffic
and miles of suburbs, unknown till re-
Two thousand miles of houses have been
London within the last 20 years. But
bird-catchers this want of observance is
narked. Of necessity they must notice
ges which have added to the £stigues and
ss of their calling, by compelling them,
to "go further afield."
ing man, rather tall, and evidently active,
thin, gave me the following acconnt His

manners were quiet and his Toiee low. His dress
could not so well be called mean as hard worn,
with the unmistakable look of much of the attire
of his ckssy that it was not made for the wearer ;
his surtou^ for instance, which was &stcned in
front by two buttons, reached down to his aneles,
and coidd have inclosed a bigger man. He resided
in St. Luke's, in which parish there are more bird-
catchers living than in any other. The furniture
of his room was very simple. A heavy old sofi^
in the well of which was a bed, a table, two chairs,
a fender, a small closet containing a few pots and
tins, and some twenty empty bird-cages of difierent
sixes hung against the walls. In a sort of wooden
loft, which had originally been constructed, he
believed, for the breeding of fisney-pigeons, and
which was erected on the roo^ were about a dosen
or two of cages, some old and broken, and in
them a fow live goldfinches, which hopped about
very merrily. They were all this year's birds,
and my informant, who had "a little oonnec-
tion of his own," was rearing them in hopes
they would turn out good specs, quite "birds
beyond the run of the streets." The place and
the cages, each bird having its own little cage,
were very clean, but at the time of my visit
the loft was exceedingly hot, as the day was one
of the sultriest Lest this heat should prove too
great for the finches, the timbers on all sides were
well wetted and re-wetted at intervals, for about
an hour at noon, at which time only was the sun
full on the loft

" I shall soon have more birds, sir," he said,
" but you see I only put aside here such as are
the very best of the take ; all cocks, of course. 0,
I 've been in the trade all my life ; I 've had a
turn at other things, certainly, but this life suits
me best, I think, because I have my health beat
in it My father — he 's been dead a goodish bit
— was a bird-catcher as well, and he used to take
me out with him as soon as I was strong enough ;
when I was about ten, I suppose. I don't re-
member my mother. Father was brought up to
brick-making. I believe that most of the bird-
catchers that have been trades, and that's not
half a quarter perhaps, were brick-makers, or
something that way. Well, I don't know the
reason. The brick-making was, in my fsther^s
young days, carried on more in tiie country, and
the bird-catchers used to fidl in with the brick-
makers, and so perhaps that led to it I 've heard
my fiitber tell of an old soldier that had been dis-
charged with a pension being the. luckiest bird-
catcher he knowed. The soldier was a catcher be-
fore he first listed, and he listed drunk. I once
— ^yes, sir, I dare say that 's fifteen year back, for I
was quite a lad — wmlked with my fiither and cap-
tain" (the pensioner's sobriquet) "till they parted
for work, and I remember very well I heard him tell
how, when on march in Portingal — I think that 's
what he called it, but it 's in foreign parts — ha saw
flocks of birds; he wished he could be after catch-
ing them, for he was well tired of sogering. I was
sent to school twice or thrice, and can read a little
and write a little; and I should like reading better
if I could manage it batter. I read a penny number,

66

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

or the 'police' in a newspaper, now and then, but
Tory Mldom. But on a fine day I hated being at
school. I wanted to be at work, to make some-
thing at bird-catching. If a boy con make money,
why shouldn't hel And if I'd had a net, or
cage, and a mule of my own, then, I thought, I
could make money." [I may observe that the
mule longed for by my informant was a "cross"
between two birds, and was wanted for
the decoy. Some bird-catchers contend that a
mule makes the best call-bird of any; others
that the natural note of a linnet, for instance,
was more alluring than the song of a mule be-
tween a linnet and a goldtinch. One birdman
told me that the excellence of a mule was, that
it had been bred and taught by its master, bad
never been at large, and was " better to manage ;"
it was bolder, too, in a cage, and its notes were
often loud and ringing, and might be heard to a
considerable distance.]

" I couldn't stick to school, sir," my informant
continued, "and I don't know why, lest it be that
one man 's best suited for one business, and another
for another. That may be seen every day. I was
sent on trial to a shoemaker, and after that to a
ropemaker, for fatlier didn't seem to like my

Sowing up and being a bird-catcher, like he was.
ut I never felt well, and knew I should never be
any great hand at them trades, and so when my
poor father went off rather sudden, I took to the
catching at once and had all his traps. Perhaps,
but I can't say to a nicencss, that was eleven
year back. Do I like the business, do you say,
sir ? Well, I 'm forced to like it, for I 've no
other to live by." [The reader will have remarked
how this man attributed the course hej pursued,
evidently from natural inclination, to its being
the best and roost healthful means of subsist-
ence in his power.] " Last Monday, for my
dealers like birds on a Monday or Tuesday
best, and then they 've the week before them, — I
went to catch in the fields this side of Baruet, and
started before two in the morning, when it was
neither light nor dark. You must get to your
place before daylight to be ready fur the first
Sight, and have time to lay your net properly.
When I'd done that, I lay down and smoked.
No, smoke don't scare the birds ; I think thoy 're
rather drawn to notice anything new, if all 's quite
quiet. Well, the first pull I had about 90 birds,
nearly all linnets. There was, as well as I can
remember, three hedge-sparrows among them, and
two larks, and one or two other birds. Yes,
there 's always a terrible flutter and row when
you make a catch, and often regular fights in the
net. I then sorted my birds, and let the hens go,
for I didn't want to be bothered with them. I
might let such a thing as 85 hens go out of rather
more than an 80 take, for I 've always found,
in catching young broods, that I 've drawn more
cocks than hens. How do I know the difference
when the birds are so young ? As easy as light
from dark. You must lift up the wing, quite
tender, and you '11 find that a cock linnet has
black, or nearly black, feathers on his shoulder,
where the hens are a deal lighter. Then the cock

has a broader and whiter stripe on the wiog than
the hen has. It 'i quite easy to distinguish, quite.
A cock goldfinch is straighter and more Uiga in
general than a hen, and has a broader white oo
his wing, as the cock linnet has ; he 's bhiekJroDnd
the beak and the eye too, and a hen 'i greenish
thereabouts. There's some gray-pates (yoimg
birds) would deceive any one until he opens their
wings. Well, I went on, sir, until about one
o'clock, or a little after, as well ai I could tell fiftna
the sun, and then came away with about 100
singing birds. I sold them in the lump to three
shopkeepers at 2$. 2d. and 2f. 6<2. the dozes.
That was a good day, sir ; a very lucky day. I
cot about 17<., the best I ever did but once, when
I made 19«. in a day.

" Yes, it 's hard work is mine, becaoie there's
such a long walking home when you've done
catching. 0, when you 're at work it '■ not work
but almost a pleasure. I 've laid for boon though,
without a catch. I smoke to pass the time when
I 'm watching ; sometimes I read a bit if I 're
had anythini; to take with me to read; thenal

other times I thinks. If you don't get a
for hours, it 's only like an angler without a nib-
ble. 0, 1 don't know what I think about ; about
nothing, perhaps. Yes, I 've had a friend or two
go out catching with me just for the amusement.
They must lie about and wait as I do. We hare
a little talk of course : well, perhaps about iport-
ing ; no, not horse-racing, I care nothing for that,
but it 's hardly business taking any one with yon.
I supply the dealers and hawk as well Perhapi
I make 12«. a week the [year through. Bono
weeks I 've made between 8/. and iL, and in
winter, when there 's rain every day, perhaps I
haven't cleared a penny in a fortnight That 's
the worst of it. But I make more than others
because I have a connection and raise good birds.

" Sometimes I 'm stopped by the farmers when
I 'm at work, but not often, though there is some
of 'em very obstinate. It 's no use, for if a catch-
er's net has to be taken from one part of a farm,
after he 's had the trouble of laying it, why it must
be laid in another part. Some country people likes
to have their birds catched."

My informant supplied shopkeepers and
hawked his birds in the streets and to the houses;
He had a connection, he said, and could generally
get through them, but he had sometimes put a
bird or two in a &ncy house. These are the pub-
lic-houses resorted to by " the fancy," in some of
which may be seen two or three dozen singing-
birds for salo on commission, through the agency
of the landlord or the waiter. They are the pro-
perty of hawkers or dealers, and must be good
birds, or they will not be admitted.

The number of birds caught, and the propo^
tion sold in the streets, I have already stated.
The number of bird-catchers, I may repeat, ii
about the same as that of street bird-sellers, 200*

Of tub Ckippled Staeet Bird-Sellul
FnoM the bird-seller whose portrait will be given
in the next number of this work I have received
the following account. The statement {previously

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR,

67

giren was that of a catcher and itreet-ieller, as
are the great majority in the trade ; the following
narratiTo it that of one who, from hia infirmities,
is merely a ntxtei-tdUr.

The poor man's deformity may be best under-
■tood by describing it in his own words : " I
hare no ancle." His right leg is emaciated, the
bone is smaller than that of his other leg (which
is not deformed), and there is no ancle joint.
The joints of the wrists and shoulders are also
defectiTe, thongh not utterly wanting, as in the
ancle. In walking this poor cripple seems to
adTance by means of a series of jerks. He uses
his defi»rm«d leg, but must tread, or rather support
his body, on the ball of the misformed foot,
while be adtances his sound leg; then, with a
twist of bis body, after he has adranced and
stands upon his undefbrmed leg and foot, he
throws forward the crippled part of his frame
by the jerk I hare spoken of. His arms are
usually pressed against his ribs as he walks,
and convey to a spectator the notion that he is
unable to raise them from that position. This,
howerer, is not the case ; he can raise them, not
as a sound man does, but with an efifbrt and a
contortion of his body to humour the effort His
speech is also defectiTe, his words being brought
out, as it were, by jerks ; ho has to prepare him-
self and to throw up his chin, in order to con-
Terse, and then he speaks widi difficulty. His
free is sun-burnt and healthy-looking. His dress
was a fustian coat with full skirts, cloth trowsers
somewhat patched, and a clean coarse shirt His
right shoe was suited to his deformity, and was
strapped with a sort of leather belt round the
lower part of the leg.

A considerable number of book-stall keepers,
as well as costermongers, swag-barrowmen, ginger-
beer and lemonade sellers, orange-women, sweet-
stuff vendors, root-sellers, and others, have esta-
blbhed their pitches — some of them having stalls
with a cover, like a roof — from Whitechapel work-
house to the Mile £nd turnpike-gate ; near the
gate they are congregated most thickly, and there
they are mixed with persons seated on the forms
belonging to adjacent innkeepers, which are placed
there to allow any one to have his beer and
tohsooo in the open air. Among these street-
sellers and beer-drinkers is seated the crippled
bird-seller, generally motionless.

His home is near the Jews' burial-ground, and
in one oT the many " places" which by a mis-
aomer, occasioned by the change in the character
snd appearance of what teere the outskirts, are
itill called *' Pleasant." On seeking him here, I
hsd some little difficulty in finding the house, and

I ssking a string of men, who were chopping fire-
wood in an adjoining court, for the man I wanted,

I mentioning his name, no one knew anything
about him ; though when I spoke of his calling,

I "0,"they said, "you want Old Billy." I then

i ^nd Billy at his accustomed pitch, with a very
nnall stock of birds in two large cages on the
ground beside him, and he accompanied me to his
residence. The room in which we sat had a pile
of fire-wood opposite the door ; the iron of the

I

upper part of the door-latch being wanting was
replaced by a piece of wood — and on the pUe sat
a tame jackdaw, with the inquisitive and askant
look peculiar to the bird. Above the pile was a
iBLtge cage, containing a jay — a bird seldom sold
in the streets now — and a thrush, in different
compartments. A table, three chairs, and a ham-
per or two used in the wood-cutting, completed
the furniture. Outside the house were cages con-
taining larks, goldfinches, and a very fine starling,
of whose promising abilities the bird-seller's sister
had so fiivourable an opinion that she intended to
try and teach it to talk, although that was very
seldom done now.

The following is the statement I obtained from
the poor fellow. The man's sister was present at
his desire, as he was afiraid I could not understand
him, owing to the indistinctneu of his speech ;
but that was easy enough, after awhile, with a
little patience and attention.

" I was bom a cripple, sir," he said, " and I
shall die one. I was bom at licwisham, but I
don't remember living in any place but London.
I remember being at Stroud though, where my
fiither had taken me, and bathed me often in the
sea himself, thinking it might do me good. I 've
heard him say, too, that when I was very young
he took me to almost every hospital in London,
but it was of no use. My father and mother
were as kind to me and as good parents as could
be. He's been dead nineteen years, and my
mother died before him. Father was very poor,
almost as poor as I am. He worked in a brick-
field, but work weren't regular. I couldn't walk
at all until I was six years old, and I was between
nine and ten before* I could get up and down
stairs by myself. I used to slide down before, as
well as I could, and had to be carried up. When
I could get about and went among other boys, I
was in great distress, I was teased so. Life was
a burthen to me, as I 've read something about
They used to taunt me by offering to jump me" (in-
vite him to a jumping match), " and to say, I '11 run
you a race on one leg. They were bad to me then,
and they are now. I 've sometimes sat down and
cried, but not often. No, sir, I can't say that I ever
wished I was dead. I hardly know why I cried.
I suppose because I was miserable. I learned to
read at a Sunday school, where I went a long time.
I like reading. I read the Bible and tracts, no-
thing else; never a newspaper. It don't come in
my way, and if it did I shouldn't look at it, for I
can't read over well and it 's nothing to me who 's
king or who 's queen. It can never have anything
to do with me. It don't take my attention.
There '11 be no change for me in this world. When
I was thirteen my father put me into the bird
trade. He knew a good many catchers. I 've been
bird-selling in the streeU for six-and-twenty years
and more, for I was 39 the 24th of last January.
Father didn't know what better he could put me
to, as I hadn't the right use of my hands or feet,
and at first I did very well. I liked the birds
and do still. I used to think at first that they
was like me ; they was prisoners, and I was a
cripple. At first I sold birds in Poplar, and

68

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

LimebooM, and Blackwall, and was a help to my
parenU, for I cleared 9«. or 10«. ererj week. But
now, oh dear, I don't know where all the money *s
gone to. I think there '■ rery little left in the
country. I 're told larkt, linneta, andgoldfiiiches,
to eaptaini of ships to take to the West Indies.
I Ve sold them, too, to go to Port Philip. 0, and
almost all those foreign parU. They bring foreign
birds here, and take back London birds. I don't
know anything about foreign birds. I know
there 's men dressed as sailors going about selling
them ; they 're duffers — I mean the men. There 's
a neighbour of mine, that 's very likely never been
20 miles out of London, and when he hawks
birds he always dresses like a countryman, and
duffii that way.

** When my lather died,** continued the man,
" I was completely upset; everything in the world
was upset I was forced to go into the workhouse,
and I was there between four and fife months.
0, I hated it I 'd rather live on a penny loaf a
day than be in it again. I 've never been near
the parish since, though I 've often had nothing to
eat many a day. I 'd rather be lamer than I nm,
and be oftener called silly Billy — and that some-
times makes me dreadful wild — than be in the
workhouse. It was starvation, but then I know
I'm a hearty eater, very hearty. Just now I
know I could eat a shilling plate of meat, but for
all that I very seldom taste meat I live on bread
and butter and tea, sometimes bread without
butter. When I have it I eat a quartern loaf at
three meals. It depends upon how I 'm off. My
health 's good. I never feel in any pain now ; I
did when I first got to walk, in great pain. Beer
I often don't taste once in two or three months,
and this very hot weather one can't help longing
for a drop, when you see people drinking it all
sides of you, but they have the use of their limbs."
[Here two little girls and a boy rushed into the
room, for they had but to open the door from the
outside, and, evidently to tease the poor fellow,
loudly demanded " a ha'penny bird." When the
sister bad driven them away, my infonnant con-
tinued.] " I 'm still greatly teased, sir, with
children ; yes, and with men too, both when
they 're drunk and sober. I think grown persons
are the worst They swear and use bad language
to me, I 'm sure I don 't know why. I know
no name they call me by in particular when I 'm
teased, if it isn't ' Old Hypocrite.' I can 't say
why they call me ' hypocrite.' I suppose because
they know no better. Tes, I think I 'm religious,
rather. I would be more so, if I had clothes. I
get to chapel sometimes." [A resident near the
bird-seller's pitch, with whom I had some conver-
sation, told me of ** Billy " being sometimes teased
in the way described. Some years ago, he believed
it was at Limehouse, my infonnant heard a gen-
tlemanly-looking man, tipsy, d — n the street bird-
seller for Mr. Ifobbler, and bid him go to the
Mansion House, or to h — I. I asked the cripple
about this, but he had no recollection of it ; and, as
he evidently did not understand the allusion to
Mr. Hobbler, I was not surprised at his forgetful-
ness.]

" I like to sit out in the nuahiM leUing ay
birds," he said. " If it 's rainy, and I can't go mt,
because it would be of no use, I 'm moped to death.
I stay at home and read a little ; or I chop a littb
fire-wood, but you may bt very aura, air, its little
I can do that way. I never associata with the
neighbours. I never had any pleaaore, rneh ai
going to a iair, or like that I don't reoMBbir
having ever spent a penny in a plaea of amai^
ment in my life. Tes, I 've often nt all day it
the sun, and of course a deal of thouf^ti gov
through my head. I think, shall I be able ti
afford myself plenty of bread when I get ImcmI
And I think of the next world ■ometimai^ and £m1
quite sure, quite, that I shan't be a crip|da ikmn.
Yes, that 's a oomfort, for this world will new
be any good to me. I feel that I shall be a pear
starving cripple, till I end, perhaps, in the m)^
house. Other poor men can get married, but net
such as me. But I never was in leva in mj lift
never." [Among the vagranta and begnnTi
may observe, there are men more terribly dSondtA
than the bird-seller, who are married, or liviiy ia
concubinage.] ** Tes, sir," he proceeded^ ''T ^
quite reconciled to my lameness, qnite ; and have
been for years. 0, no, I never fret about thai
now ; but about starving, perhaps, and tiio worit-
house.

" Before father died, the parish allowed na li. 6«L
anda quartern loaf a week; but after he waa buried,
they 'd allow me nothing ; they 'd only admit mk
into the house. I hadn't a penny allowed to ■•
when I discharged myself and came out I haidlj
know how ever I did manage to get a start a^ia
with the birds. I knew a good many eatehen,
and they trusted me. Yes, they was all posr
men. I did pretty tidy by bits, bat only when it
was fine weather, until Uieso five yean or ss^
when things got terrible bad. Farticakrly just the
two last years with me. Do you think times are
likely to mend, sir, with poor people 1 If work-
ing-men had only money, they 'd bay innoee&l
things like birds to amuse them at home ; but if
they can't get the money, as I 've heard them My
when they 've been pricing my stock, why ia
course they can't spend it"

" Yes, indeed," said the sister, '< trade *s v«y
bad. Where my husband and I onco earned 18a
at the fire-wood, and then Ifit., we can't now
cam 12<. the two of us, slave as hard as we will .1
always dread the winter a-coming. Though thers
may be more fire-wood wanted, there 's greater ex-
penses, and it 's a terrible time for such as us."

'* 1 dream sometimes, sir," the cripple resomsd
in answer to my question, "but not often. I
often have more than once dreamed I was starving
and dying of hunger. I remember that, for I
woke in a tremble. But most dreams is seen
forgot I've never seemed to myself to be a
cripple in my dreams. Well, I can't explain hoiTi
but I feel as if my limbs was all free like-
so beautiful. I dream most about starving
I think, than about anything else. Perhaps
that's when I have to go to sleep hungry. I
sleep very well, though, take it altogether. If I
had only plenty to live upon there woold be

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

69

7 liappier. I 'm luippj enough when times
Idling with me, only one feele it won't iMt

a joke M well as anybody when times is

but that 's been rery seldom lately,
t's all small birds I sell in the street now,
t at a Tery odd time. That jackdaw there,
} 's a Tery fine bird. I 'to tamed him my-
ind he 's as tame as a dog. Hy sister 's a
pod hand among birds, and helps me. 8he
anght a linnet to say 'Joey' as plain as yon
MU it yourself, sir. I bay birds of different
if% bat haven't money to bny the better
, M I bare to sell at 8<{., and id., and M,
f. If I had a pound to lay out in a few
B^pia and good birds, I think I eould do
log, this fine weather particlcr, for I 'm a
good judge of birds, and know how to
ft thtoi as well as anybody. Then birds is
' d«nr to bny than they was when I was
1 tba trade. The catchers haye to go further,
'm afeared the birds is getting scarcer, and
n 's more time taken up. I buy of seTeral
rs. Tha last whole day that I was at my
I sold nine birds, and took about 8#. If I

buy birds erer so cheap, there's always
oases by their dying. I 've had three parts
'young linnets die, do what I might, but
MB to many. Then if they die all the food
ra had is lost. There goes all for nothing
pt and flax-seed for your linnets, canary and
V your goldfinches, chopped eggs for your
Dgales, and German paste for your sky-larks.
nada my own Qerman paste when I 'to
d a anffieiant quantity. It 's made of pea-

traaela, hog's-krd, and moss-seed. I sell
goldfinchai than anything else. I used to

good many sparrows for shooting, but I
'C dona anything that way these eight or
fwrs. It's a &sh'nable sport still, I hear,
laarad nightingales that sung beautiful, and
sold them at 4«. a piece, which was rery
They often die when the time for their
tare comes. A shopkeeper as supplied such
« sold would haye charged 1/. a piece for

One of my fiivouritost birds is redpoles,
lay 're only sold in the season. I think it 's
f the most knowingest little birds that is ;
knowing than the goldfinch, in my opinion,
[y customers are all working people, all of
I sell to nobody else ; I inake 4i. or 5«. ;

5s. a good week at this time of year, when
sather suits. I lodge with a married sister;
laband 's a wood-chopper, and I pay 1«. M.
k, whieh is cheap, for I 'ye no sticks of my

If I earn U. there's only 2«. M, left to
I the week through. In winter, when I can
next to nothing, and must keep my birds,
terrible — oh yes, sir, if yon beiieya me, ter-

r THB Teiokb or tbi BriiD-DurraBfl.
risks practised by the bird-sellers are frequent
fstematic. The other day a man connected
the bird-trade had to yisit HoUoway, the
and Bermondsey. In Holloway he saw six
lome of whom he recognised as regular bird-

catchers and street-sellers, ofiering sham birds ; in
the City he found tweWe; and in Bermondsey
six, as well as he could depend upon his memory.
These, he thought, did not constitute more than
a half of the number now at work as bird-" duf-
fers," not including the sellers of foreign birds.
In the summer, indeed, the dufiSws are most
numerous, for birds are cheapest then, and these
tricksters, to economise time, I presume, buy of
other catchers any cheap hens suited to their pur-
pose. Some of them, I am told, neyer catch their
birds at all, but purchase them.

The greenfinch is the bird on whieh these men's
art is most commonly practised, its light-coloured
plumage suiting it to their purposes, f haye heard
these people styled " bird-swindlers," but by street-
traders I heard them called " bird-duiliffs,'' yet there
appears to be no yery distinctiye name for them.
They are nearly all men, as is the case in the bird
trade generally, although the wiyes may occasionally
assist in the street-sale. The means of deception,
as regards the greenfinch especially, are from paint.
One aim of these artists is to make their finch re-
semble some curious foreign bird, " not often to
be sold so cheap, or to be sold at all in this
country." They study the birds in the window of
the naturalists' shops for this purpose. Sometimes
they declare these painted birds are young Jaya
sparrows (at one time "a fiuhionable bird"), or
St. Helena birds, or French or Italian finches.
They sometimes get 6s. for such a " duffing bird;"
one man has been known to boast that he once got
a soyereign. I am told, howeyer, by a bird-
catcher who had himself supplied birds to these
men for duffing, that they complained of the trade
growing worse and worse.

It is usually a hen which is painted, for the hen
is by fiir the cheapest purchase, and while the
poor thing is being ofiered for sale by the duffers,
she has an unlimited supply of hemp-seed, with-
out other food, and hemp-seed beyond a proper
quantity, is a yery strong sUmulus. This makes
the hen look brisk and bold, but if newly caught,
as is usually the case, she will perhaps be found
dead next morning. The duffer will object to his
bird being handled on account of its timidity;
" but it is timid only with strangers t" When
you 'ye had him a week, ma'am," such a bird-
seller will say, " you '11 find him as loyesome and
tame as can be." One jealous lady, when asked
6s. for a " yery fine Italian finch, an excellent
singer," refused to buy, but offered a deposit of
2s. 6(i., if the man would leaye his bird and cage,
for the trial of the bird's song, for two or three
days. The duffer agreed ; and was bold enough
to call on the third day to hear the result The
bird was dead, and after murmuring a little at the
hidy's mismanagement, and at the loss he had
been subjected to, the man brought away his cage.
He boasted of this to a dealer's assistant who
mentioned it to me, and expressed his eonyiction
that it was true enough. The paints used for the
transformation of natiye birds into foreign are
bought at the colour-shops, and applied with
camel-hair brushes in the usual way.

When canaries are "a bad colour," or haye

70

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

grown a paler jellow from age, thej are re-dyed,
by the application of a colour lold at the colour-
•hope, and known as "the Queen's yellow." Black-
birds are dyed a deeper bUck, the " grit" off a
frying-pan being used for the purpose. The same
thing is done to heighten the gloss and blackneu
of a jackdaw, I was told, by a man who acknow-
ledged he had duffed a little ; "people liked a gay
Ivight colour." In the same way the tints of the
goldfinch are heightened by the application of
paint It is common enough, moreover, for a man
to paint the beaks and less of the birds. It is
chiefly the smaller birds which are thus made the
means of cheating.

Almost all the " duffing birds" are hawked. If
a young hen be passed off for a good singing bird,
without being painted, as a cock in his second
singing year, she is " brisked up" with hemp-seed,
is half tipsy in fact, and so passed off deceitfully.
As it is Tery rarely that eren the male birds will
ling in the streets, this it often a successful ruse,
the bird appearing so lively.

A dealer calculated for me, from his own know-
ledge, that 2000 small birds were " duflfed" yearly,
at an average of from 2s. 6{/. to Zs, each.

As yet I have only spoken of the " duffing" of
English birds, but similar tricks are practised with
the foreign birds.

In parrot-selling there is a good deal of " duffing."
The birds are "painted up," as I have described in
the case of the greenfinches, &c. Varnish is also used
to render the colours brighter; the legs and beak
are frequently varnished. Sometimes a spot of red
is introduced, for as one of these duffers observed
to a dealer in English birds, "the more outlandish
you make them look, the better 's the chance to
sell." Sometimes there is little injury done by
this paint and varnish, which disappear gradually
when the parrot is in the cage of a purchaser ;
but in some instances when the bird picks him-
self where he has been painted, he dies from the
deleterious compound. Of this mortality, however,
there is nothing approaching that among the
duffed small birds.

Occasionally the duffers carry really fine cock-
atoos, &C., and if they can obtain admittance into a
Udy's house, to display the beauty of the bird,
they will pretend to be in possession of smuggled
silk, &c., made of course for duffing purposes.
The bird-duffers are uiimlly dressed as seamen,
and sometimes pretend they must sell the bird
before the ship sails, for a parting spree, or to get
the poor thing a good home. This trade, however,
has from all that 1 con learn, and in the words of an
informant, "seen its best days." There are now
sometimes six men thus engaged ; sometimes
none : and when one of these men is " hard up,"
he finds it difficult to start again in a business for
which a capital of about 1/. is necessary, as a cage
is wanted generally. The duffers buy the very
lowest priced birds, and have been known to get
21. 10<. for what cost but 8«., but that is a very
rare occurrence, and the men aro very poor, and
perhaps more dissipated than the generality of
street-sellers. Parrot duffing, moreover, is seldom
carried on regularly by any one, for he will oflen

duff cigars and other things in preference, or pe^
haps vend really smuggled and good cigars or
tobccco. Perhaps 150 parroU, paroquets, or cock-
atoos, are sold in this way annually, at from Ifia
to 1/. 10<. each, but hardly averaging 1/., as the
duffer will sell, or raffle, the bird for a mall nui
if he cannot dispose of it otherwise.

Of the Strxit-Sillxbs or Fouaax Bzaoi.
This trade is curious, but fiir firom eztentiTe ii
regards street-sale. There is, moreover, contruy
to what might be expected, a good deal of "diif>
fing" about it. The "duffer^ in English binb
disguises them so that they shall look like fere^
ers ; the duffer in what are unquestionably foceiga
birds disguises them that they may look mm
foreign — more Indian than in the Indiei.

The word "Duffer," I may mention, appctti
to be connected with the Qerman Durfen, to waa^
to be needy, and so to mean literally a needy ir
indigent man, even as the word Pediar hat Iks
same origin — being derived from tha GenuM
Bcttler, and the Dutch Btdelaar—^i beggar. Ths
verb Dntffen means also to dare, to be to bold ai
to do ; hence, to Dutff, or Duf, would signify to
resort to any impudent trick.

The supply of parrots, paroqneta, cockatoei^
Java sparrows, or St. Helena birds, is not m ths
regular way of consignment from a merchant
abroad to one in London. The commanders and
mates of merchant vessels bring over large qoaii-
tities ; and often enough the seamen are allowed
to bring parrots or cockatoos in the homeward-
bound ship from the Indies or the Afirican coast,
or from other tropical countries, either to begnils
the tedium of the voyage, for presents to their
friends, or, as in some cases, for sale on their
reaching an English port. More, I am assured,
although statistics aro hardly possible on such a
subject, are brought to London, and perhaps by
one-third, than to all the other ports of Qreat
Britain collectively. Even on board the vessels
of the ro}'al navy, the importation of parrots used
to be allowed as a sort of boon to the seamen. I
was told by an old naval officer that once, after a
long detention on the west coast of Africa, his
ship was ordered home, and, as an acknowledg-
ment of the good behaviour of his men, be ps^
mitted them to bring parrots, cockatoos, or any
foreign birds, home with them, not limiting the
number, but of course under the inspection of the
petty officers, that there might be no Tiolation of
the cleanlineu which always distinguishes a vessel
of war. Along the African coast, to the south-
ward of Sierra Leone, the men were not allowed to
land, both on account of the unhealthiness of the
shores, and of the surf, which rendered landing
highly dangerous, a danger, however, which the
seamen would not have scrupled to brave, and
recklessly enough, for any impulse of the minute.
As if by instinct, however, the natives seemed to
know what was wanted, for they came off from
tlio shores in their light canoes, which daaeed like
feathers on the surf, and brought boal-loads of
birds ; these the seamen bought of thea, or pos-
sessed themselves of in the way of barter.

LONDOIf LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

71

s the fthip took her final departare, how-
» was reported as utterly uninhabitable
om the inceMant din and clamour : ** We
well hare a pack of women aboard, sir/'
imgaUant remark of one of the petty
to his commander. Orders were then
It the parrots, he, should be " thinned/'
bcre might not be such an unceasing noise.
I aooordingly done. How many were set
f and made fi>r the shore — ^for the seamen
ittanoe did not kill them for their skins,
t unfreqnently the case — ^the commander
icnow. He could but conjecture ; and he
red that lomething like a thousand were
; and eren after that, and after the mor-
hieh takes place among these birds in the
»f a long Toyage, a yery great number
oqght to Plymouth. Of these, again, a
mber were sent or conyeyed under the
iie sailors to London, when the ship was
The same officer endeavoured on this
» bring home some yery large pine-apples,
iTonred, and most deliciously, parts of the
n she had been along time at sea; but every
bem rotted, and had to be thrown over-
He fell into the error, Captain said,

g the finest fruit selected for the experi-
in enror which the Bahama merchants
dded, and consequently they succeeded
B fiuied. How the sailors fed the parrots,
mant could hardly guess, but they brought
tr of very fine birds to EngUnd, some of
ith well-cultivated powers of speech,
as I shall show, is one of the ways by
he London supply of parrots, &c., is ob-
bat the permission, as to the importation
brightly-feathered birds, is, I understand,
illowed at present to the seamen in the
kvy. The far greater supply, indeed more
I per cent, of the whole of the birds im-
is from the merchant-service. I have al-
itated, on the very best authority, the
which induce merchant-seamen to bring
TOts and cockatoos. That to bring them
in indncement to some to engage in an
voyage is shown by the following state-
hich was made to me, in the course of a
quiry, published in my letters in the
g CkronicU, concerning the condition of
chant-seamen.

onld never go to that African coast again,
nake a pound or two in birds. We buy
gray parrots chiefly^ of the natives, who
)oard in their canoes. We sometimes pay
7s., in Africa, for a fine bird. I have
200 parrots on board; they make a
I noise ; but half the birds die before they
England. Some captains won't allow

1 the seamen have settled themselves after
in England, they perhaps find that there is
I in their boarding- honses for their parrots ;
rds are not admitted into the Sailors' Home ;
men s friends are stocked with the birds,
>k upon another parrot as but another
*, an unwelcome pensioner. There remains

but one course — to sell the birds, and they are
generally sold to a highly respectable man, Mr.
M. Samuel, of Upper ButSmithfield ; and it is from
him, though not always directly, that the shop-
keepers and street-sellers derive their stock-in-
trade. There is also a further motive for the dis-
posal of parrots, paroquets, and cockatoos to a
merchant The seafaring owner of those really
magnificent birds, perhaps, squanders his money,
perhaps he gets "skinned" (stripped of his clothes
and money firom being hocussed, or tempted to
helpless drunkenness), or he chooses to sell them,
and he or his boarding-house keeper takes the birds
to Mr. Samuel, and sells them for what he can
get; but I heard from three very intelligent sea-
men whom I met with in the course of my inquiry,
and by mere chance, that Mr. Samuel's price was
fEiir and his money sure, considering everything,
for there is usually a qualification to every praise.
It is certainly surprising, under these circumstances,
that such numbers of these birds should thus be
disposed of.

Parrots are as gladly, or more gladly, got rid of,
in any manner, in difierent regions in the conti-
nents of Asia and America, than with us are even
rats from a granary. Dr. Stanley, after speaking
of the beauty of a flight of parrots, says : — '' The
husbandman who sees them hastening through
the air, with loud and impatient screams, looks
upon them with dismay and detestation, knowing
that the produce of his labour and industry is in
jeopardy, when visited by such a voracious multi-
tude of pilferers, who, like the locusts of Egypt,
desolate whole tracts of country by their unsparing
ravages." A contrast with their harmlessness, in a
gilded cage in the houses of the wealthy, with us !
The destructiveness of these birds, is then, one
reason why seamen can obtain them so readily and
cheaply, for the natives take pleasure in catching
them ; while as to plentifulness, the tropical re-
gions teem with bird, as with insect and reptile,
life.

Of parrots, paroquets, and cockatoos, there are
3000 imported to London in the way I have de-
scribed, and in about equal proportions. They
are sold, wholesale, from 5s. to 20s. each.

There are now only^three men selling these
brilliant birds regularly in the streets, and in the
fair way of trade ; but there are sometimes as
many as 18 so engaged. The price given by a
hawker for a cockatoo, &c, is 8s. or 10<., and
they are retailed at from 15s. to 80s., or more, ** if
it can be got." The purchasers are the wealthier
classes who can afford to indulge their tastes. Of
late years, however, I am told, a parrot or a
cockatoo seems to be considered indispensable to
an inn (not a gin-palace), and the innkeepers have
been among the best customers of the street parrot-
sellers. In the neighbourhood of the docks, and
indeed along the whole river side below London-
bridge, it is almost impossible for a street-seller to
dispose of a parrot to an innkeeper, or indeed to
any one, as they are supplied by the seamen. A
parrot which has been taught to talk is worth from
it. to 10/., according to iu proficiency in speech.
About 500 of these birds are sold yearly by the

73

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOS.

fttraetphawkfln, at an ontlay to the pnblic of from
500/. to 600/.

JaTa sparrows, from the East Indies, and from
the Islands of the Archipelago, are brought to
London, bat considerable qoantities die daring the
Toyage and in this eoantrj; for, though hardy
enoogh, not more than one in three surrives being
" taken off the paddy seed." About 10,000, how-
erer, are sold annually, in London, at Is. fid. each,
but a very small proportion by streetrhawking, as
the JaTa sparrows are chiefly in demand for the
ariaries of the rich in town and country. In some
years not abore 100 may be sold in the streeto ;
in others, as many as 500.

In St. Helena birds, known also as wax-bills
and red-backs, there is a trade to the same extent,
both as regards number and price ; but the street-
sale is perhaps 10 per cent lower.

Of THI StUEIX-SkLLBU Of BUM'-NlfXf.

Thi young gypsy-looking lad, who gare me the
following account of the sale of birds'-nests in the
streets, was peculiariy picturesque in his appear-
ance. He wore a dirty-looking smock-frock with
laige pockeU at the side ; he had no shirt ; and his
long black hair himg in curis about him, contrasting
strongly with his bare white neck and chest i The
broad-brimmed brown Italian-looking hat, broken
in and ngged at the top, threw a dark hsilf-mask-
like shadow over the upper part of his foce. His
foet were bare and black with mud : he carried in
one hand his basket of nesU, dotted with their
many-coloured eggs; in the other he held a live
snake, that writhed and twisted as its metallic-
looking skin glistened in the sun ; now over, and
now round, the thick knotty bough of a tree that
he used for a stick. The portrait of the youth is
here given. I have never seen so picturesque a
specimen of the Knglish nomade. He said, in
answer to my inquiries : —

"I am a seller of birds'-nesties, snakes, slow-
worms, adders, 'effets' — lizards is their common
name — hedgehogs (for killing black beetles) ; frogs
(for the French — they eata 'em) ; snails (for birds) ;
that's all I sell in the summer-time. In the
winter I get all kinds of wild flowers and roots,
primroses, 'butter-cups' and daisies, and snow-drops,
and 'backing' off of trees; (' backing' it's called,
because it 's used to put at the back of nosegays,
it 's got off the yew trees, and is the green yew
fern. I gather bulrushes in the summertime,
besides what I told yon; some buys bulrushes
for stufiing; they're the foiry rushes the small
ones, and the big ones is bulrushes. The small
ones is used for ' stuffing,' that is, fur showing
off the birds as is stufied, and make 'em seem
as if they was alive in their cases, and among
the rushes; I sell them to the bird-stuffers at
Id. a dosen. The big rushes the boys buys to
play with and beat one another — on a Sunday
evening mostly. The birds'-nesties I get from Id.
to 3(/. a-piece for. I never have young birds, I can
never sell 'em ; you see the young things generally
dies of the cramp before you can get rid of them.
I sell the birds'-nesties in the strqats; the three-
penny ones haa six eggs, a Jdilf-penny a egg.

The linnets haa mostly four eggf, tbay'ra UL
the neat; they're for patting under eanarics^
and being hatched by theOL The throsbee his
from four to five — five if the mott ; they 'rs
2d.; they're merely for cQr'oaity— ^asi casss
or anything like that Moor-heiis, wot build
on the moora, has from eight to nine etgs^ and
is Id. a-piece ; they 're for hatching miMnicatk
a bantam-fowl, the same as partridgta. Chaf-
finches has five eggs; they're fkL, and b for
cur'osity. Hedge-sparrows, fira eggs; thej'rs
the same price as the other, and Is for cni^enty.
The Bottletit— the nest and the bough are al-
ways put in gUss cases; it's a long Ittqgiag
nest, like a bottle, with a hole about aa Ug as a
sixpence, and there 's mostly as many aa eightssa
eggs ; they 'to been known to lay thirty-thrcs.
To the house-sparrow thers is five eggs; they'll
Id. The yellow-hammers, with five eggf, is %i.
The wate^wagtails, with four eggs, 2d, BhMk-
birds, with five eggs, 2d, The golden-creat wtcd,
with ten eggs — ^it has a rery handsoma nsil k
M. Bulflnches, four eggs, Is. ; they 're for hal^
ing, and the bulfinch is a very dear Urd. Orawi^
four eggs. Ad. Magpies, four eggs, id. Starlim
five eggs, Sd. The egg-chats, five eggs. %d. Gold-
finches, five eggs, M.f for hatching. Martins, fivt
eggs, dd. The swallow, four eggs, M; it 's so d«r
because the nest is such a cur'osity, ther baild op
again the house. The butche^birds — hedge-ow-
derers some calls them, for the number of birds they
kills — five eggs, Sd. The cuckoo — they Aever has
a nest, but htys in the hedge^parrow's ; theie 'i
only one egg (it 's very mre yon see the two, they
has been got, but that's seldom) that is4<l., the
egg is such a cur'osity. The greenfinches hu
four or five eggs, and is Sd. The sparrer-hawk has
four eggs, and they 're 6d. The reed-sparrow—
they builds in the reeds close where the bul-
rushes grow ; they has four eggs, and is 2d, The
wood -pigeon has two eggs, and they *t9 id. The
homed owl, four eggs ; they 're 6d. The wood-
pecker— I never see no more nor two — they're
M. the two; thejf're a great cur'osity, very
seldom found. The kingfishers has four eggs, and
is 6d. That 's all I know of.

"I gets the eggs mostly from Witham and
Chelmsford, in Essex ; Chelmsford is 20 mile from
Whitechapel Church, and Witham, 8 mile further.
I know more about them pnrts than anywhere
else, being used to go after moss for Mr. Butler, of
the herb-shop in Covent GKirden. Sometimes I go
to Shirley Common and Shirley Wood, that 's thns
miles from Croydon, and Croydon is ten from
Westminster-bridge. When I 'm out bird-nesting
I take all the cross country roads across fields and
into the woods. I begin bird-nesting in Xsy
and leave off about August, and then comes the bnl*
rushing, and they last till Christmas ; and after thst
comes the roou and wild flowers, which serves me
up to May again. I go out bird-nesting three
times a week. I go away at night, and come op
on the morning of the day after. I 'm awsy s
day and two nights. I start between one and
two in the morning and walk all night — for the
cookesa — ^you see the weather *s ao hot you can't

LONDON LABOUR AND TBE LONDON POOR.

78

do it in the dAytime. When I get down I go to
ileep for ft couple of homrs. I ' skipper it ' — tarn
in under ft hedge or anywhere. I get down ahont
Dine in the mornings at Chelmsford, and about
one if I go to Witham. After I 'to had my sleep
I start off to get my nests and things. I climb the
trees, often I go up a dozen in the day, and
many a tine tha« 'i nothing in the nest when I
gel npb I only fell once ; I got on the end of the
bough and slipped oS. I poisoned my foot once
with the stagnant water going after the bulrushes,
— there was horseleeches, and efiets, and all kinds
of things in the water, and they stung me, I
think. I eonldn't use my foot hardly for six
weeki afterwards, and was obliged to have a
atick to walk with. I couldn't get about at all
lor four days, and shonld have starved if it hadn't
been that a young man kept me. He was a printer
by trade, and almost a stranger to me, only he
•eed me uid took pity on me. When I fell off the
bough I wasn't much hurt, nothing to speak of. The
hovse-eparrow is the worst nest of all to take ;
it 'a no ralne either when it u got, and is the most
difficult of all to get at Tou has to get up a spa-
lapet (a parapet) of a house, and either to get
permissioB, or run the risk of going after it with-
out Partridges* eggs (they has no nest) they gives
you six monUis for, if they see you selling them,
because it 's game, and I haven't no licence ; but
while you 're hawking, that is showing 'em, they
can't touch yon. The owl is a very difficult nest
to get, they builds so high in the trees. The
botUe-tit is a hard nest to find ; yon may go all
the year round, and, perhaps, only get one. The
nest I like best to get is the chaffinch, because
they 're in the hedge, and is no bother. Oh, yon
hasn't got the skylark down, sir ; they builds on
the ground, and has five eggs ; I sell them for id.
The robin-redbreast has five eggs, too, and is Sd.
The ringdove has two eggs, and is 6d. The tit-
lark— that 's five blue egg^, and very rare — I get
Ad, for them. The jay has five eggs, and a fiat
nest, very wiry, indeed; it's a ground bird;
that's If. — the egg is just like a partridge egg.
When I first took a kingfisher's nest, I didn't
know the name of it, and I kept wondering what
it was. I daresay I asked three; dozen people,
and none of them could tell me. At last a bird-
fencier, the lame man at the Mile-end gate, told
me what it was. I likes to get the nestics to sell,
hot I havn't no fancy for birds. Sometimes I
get squirrels* nestles with the young in 'em — abont
four of 'em there mostly is, and they 're the only
young things I take — the young birds I leaves ;
they 're no good to me. The four squirrels brings
me from 6f. to St. After I takes a bird's nest, the
old bird comes dancing over it, chirupping, and
crying, and flying all about. When they lose
their nest they wander about, and don't know
where to go. Oftentimes I wouldn't take them if
it wasn't for the want of the victuals, it seems
snch a pity to disturb 'em after they 've made
their little bits of places. Bats I never take my-
self—I can't get over 'em. If I has an order for
'era, I buys 'em of boys.
" I mostly start off into the country on Honday

No. XXXI.

^

^

and come up on Wednesday. The most nesties as
ever I took is twenty-two, and I generally get about
twelve or thirteen. These, if I 've an order, I
sell directly, or else I may be two days, and some-
times longer, hawking them in the street Directly
I 've sold them I go off again that night, if it 's
fine ; though I often go in the wet, and then I
borrow a tarpaulin of a man in the street where I
live. If I 've a quick sale I get down and back
three times in a week, but then I don't go so far
as Witham, sometimes only to Rumford ; that is
12 miles from Whitechapel Church. I never got
an order from a bird-fimcier; they gets all the
eggs they want of the conntrymen who comes up
to market.

** It 's gentlemen I geto my orders of, and then
mostly they tells me to bring 'em one nest of every
kind I can get hold of, and that will often last me
three months in the summer. There 's one gentle-
man as I sells to is a wholesale dealer in window-
glass — and he has a hobby for them. He puts
'em into glass cases, and makes presents of 'em
to his friends. He has been one of my best cus-
tomers. I 've sold him a hundred nesties, I 'm
sure. There 's a doctor at Dalston I sell a great
number to — he 's taking one of every kind of me
now. The most of my customers is stray ones in
the streets. They 're generally boys. I sells a
nest now and then to a lady with a child ; but
the boys of twelve to fifteen years of age is my
best friends. They buy 'em only for cur'osity.
I Bold three partridges' eggs yesterday to a gen-
tlemen, and he said he would put them under a
bantam he 'd got, and hatch 'em.

*' The snakes, and adders, and slow-worms I get
from where there's moss or a deal of grass.
Sunny weather's the best for them, they won't
come out when it 's cold ; then I go to a dung^
heap, and turn it over. Sometimes, I find five or
six there, but never so large as the one I had
to-day, that's a yard and five inches long, and
three-quarters of a pound weight Snakes is 5«.
a pound. I sell all I can get to Mr. Butler, of
Covent-garden. He keeps 'em alive, for they 're
no good dead. I think it's for the skin they're
kept. Some buys *em to dissect : a gentleman
in Theobalds-road does so, and so he does hedge-
hogs. Some buys 'em for stuffing, and others
for cur'osities. Adders is the same price as
snakes, 5g. a pound after they first comes in,
when they 're lOs. Adders is wanted dead ;
it's only the fat and skin that's of any value;
the fat is used for curing p'isoned wounds, and
the skin is used for any one as has cut their
heads. Farmers buys the fiit, and rubs it into
the wound when they gets bitten or stung by
anything p'isonous. I kill the adders with a
stick, or, when I has shoes, I jumps on 'em.
Some fine days I get four or five snakes at a
time ; but then they 're mostly small, and won't
weigh above half a pound. I don't get many
adders — they don't weigh many ounces, adders
don't — and I mostly has 9d. a-piece for ench I
gets. I sells ih^m to Mr. Butler as well.

*' The hedgehogs is 1«. each ; I geU them mostly
in Essex. I've took one hedgehog with three

74

LONDON LABOUR AND TUB LONDON POOR.

young onet, and told the lot for 2t, 6<2. People
in the streets bought them of me — they 'ra wanted
to kill the black-beetles; they 're fed on bread and
milk, and they 11 sock a cow quite dry in their
wild state. They eat adders, and can't be p'isoned,
at least it says to in a book I We got about 'em at
home.

" The effets I gets orders for in the streets. Gen-
tlemen giTes me their cards, and tells me to bring
them one; they're 2d, apiece. I get them at
Hampstead and Highgate, from the ponds.
They 're wanted for cur'osity.

" The snails and frogs I sell to Frenchmen. I
don't know what part they eat of the frog, but I
know they buy them, and the dandelion root.
The frvgs is 6c2. and 1#. a dozen. They like the
yellow-bellied ones, the others they 're afraid is
toads. They always pick out the yellow-bellied
first; I don't know how to feed 'em, or else I
might fatten them. Many people swallows young
frogs, they 're reckoned rery good things to clear
the innde. The frogs I catch in ponds and ditches
np at Hampstead and Highgate, but I only get
them when I 're a order. I 've had a order for
as many as six down, but that was for the French
hotel in Leicester- square ; bnt I have sold three
dosen a week to one man, a Frenchman, as
keeps a cigar shop in H— i^s-coort

" The snails I sell by the pailful^at 2f. M.
the pail. There is some hundreds in a pail.
The wet weather is the best times for catching
'em ; the French people eats 'era. They boils *em
first to get 'em out of the shell and get rid of
the green froth ; then they boils them again, and
after that in yinegar. They cats 'em not, but
some of the foreigners likes 'em cold. They say
they 're better, if possible, than whelks. I used
to sell a great many to a lady and gentleman
in Soho-square, and to many of the French I sell
l<.'s worth, that's about three or four quarts.
Some persons buys snails for birds, and some to
strengthen a sickly child's back; they rub the
back all orer with the snails, and a very good
thing they tell me it is. I used to take 2«.'s worth
a week to one woman ; it 's the green frt>th that
does the greatest good. There are two more
birds'-nest sellers besides myself, they don't do as
many as me the two of 'em. They 're very naked,
their things is all to ribbins ; they only go into
the country once in a fortnight. They was never
nothing, no trade — they never was in place — from
what I 've heard — either of them. I reckon I sell
about 20 nestles a week take one week with
another, and that I do for four months in the year.
(This altogether makes 820 nesto.) Tes, I should
say, I do sell about 800 birds'-nests every year,
and the other two, I *m sure, don't sell half that
Indeed they don't want to sell ; they does better
by what they gets give to them. I can't say
what they takes, they 're Irish, and I never was in
conversation with them. I get about it, to bt,
for the 20 nests, that 's between 2c/. and M.
apiece. I sell about a couple of snakes every
week, and for some of them I get !«., and
for the big ones 2«. M,) but them I seldom
find. I 've only had three hedgehogs this season,

and I 've done a little in snails and frogs, perhaps
about It, The many fi>reignerB in London this
season hasn't done me no go«L I haven't been ts
Leicester^nare lately, or perhaps I might have
got a laige order or two £» firogs."

Lm or ▲ BiRD'»-Nm Sulbb.
" I am 22 years of age. Hy fiither was a dy«r,
and I was brought up to the same timda. My
fiither lived at Arundel, in Sussex, and kept a
shop there. He had a good bosineM as dyer,
scourer, calico gbier, and friraitnre deaner. I
have heard mother say his bnsinesa in Anm-
del brought him in 800L a year at least He had
eight men in his employ, and none nnder 80s. a
week. I had two brodiers and one aster, bat
one of my brothers is since dead. MoUier died
five years ago in the Consumption Ho^lal,
at Chelsea, just afrer it was built I was very
young indeed when fiither died; I can hardly
remember him. He died in Middlesex Ho^tal :
he had abscesses all over him ; there were six-and-
thirty at the time of his death. I'va heard
mother say many times that she thinkad it was
through exerting himself too much at his buaaess
that he fell ilL The ruin of fiither was owing
to his house being burnt down ; the fire broke out
at two in the morning; he wasn't insured: I
don't remember the fire ; I 've only heerd mother
talk about it It was the ruin of us all she nsed
to tell me ; fiither had so much work belonnng to
other people ; a deal of moreen curtains, five or
six hundred yards. It was of no use his trying
to start again : he lost all his glaiing machines
and tubs, and his drugs and ' punches.' From
what I've heerd from mother they was worth
some hundreds. The Duke of Norfolk, after the
fire, gave a good lot of money to the poor people
whose things father had to dean, and fiither him-
self came up to London. I wasn't two year old
when that happened. We all come up with fiuher,
and he openwi a shop in London and bought all
new things. He had got a bit of money lefi,
and mother's uncle lent him 60/. We lived two
doors from the stage door of the Queen's Theatre,
in Pitt-street, Charlotte-street, Fitaroy-square ;
but father didn't do much in London ; he had a
new connection to make, and when he died his
things was sold for the rent of the house. There
was only money enough to bury him. I dcm't
know how long ago that vras, but I think it was
about three years after our coming to London, for
I 've heerd mother say I was six years old when
fiither died. After father's death mother borrowed
some more money of her uncle, who was well to
do. He was perfumer to her Majesty : he 's dead
now, and left the busineu to his foreman. The
business was worth 2000/. His wife, my mother's
aunt, is alive still, and though she 's a woman of
large property, she won't so much as look at me.
She keeps her carriage and two footmen; her
address is, Mrs. Lewis, No. 10, Forchester-ter-
race, Bayswater. I have been in her draw-
ing-room two or three times. I used to take
letters to her from mother : she was Tery kind
to me then, and give me several half-crowns. She

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

15

knovft Uio itate I am in now. A young man
wrote a letter to her, laying I had no clothes to
look after work in, and that I was near starring,
but she lent no answer to it. The last time I
called at her boose she sent me down nothing,
and bid the servant tell me not to come any more.
BTer since I Ve wanted it I We never had nothing
from her, but before that she used to give me
something whenever I took a letter from mother
to her. The last half-crown I got at her house
was from the eook, who gave it me out of her
own money because she 'd known my mother.

^ I 've got a grandmother living in Wobum-
place; she's in service there, and been in the
frmily for twenty years. The gentleman died
latdy and left her half his property. He was a
foreigner and had no relations here. My grand-
mother used to be very good to me, and when I
first got out of work she always gave me some-
thing when I called, and had me down in her
room. She was hoosekeeper then. She never
offered to get me a situation, but only gave me a
meal of victoaU and a shilling or eighteen-pence
whenever I called. I was tidy in my dress
then. At last a new footman came, and he told
me as I wasn't to call again ; he said, the family
didn't allow no followers. I 've never seen my
grandmother since that time but once, and then I
was passing with my basket of birds' nests in my
hand juat aa she was coming out of the door. I was
dressed about the same then as you seed me yester-
day. I was without a shirt to my back. I don't
think she saw me, and I was ashamed to let her see
me as I waa. She was kind enough to me, that is,
she wouldn't mind about giving me a shilling or so
at a time, but she never would do nothing else for
me, and yet she had got plenty of money in the
bank, and a gold watch, and iJl, at her side.

After fisther died, as I was saying, mother
got some money from her uncle and set up on her
own account ; she took in glazing for the trade.
Father had a few shops that he worked for, and
they employed mother after his death. She kept
on at this for eighteen months and then she got
married again. Before this an uncle of mine, my
dither's brother, who kept some lime-kilns down
m Bury St. Edmunds, consented to take my
brother and sister and provide for them, and four
or five year ago he got them both into the Duke
of Norfolk's service, and thero they are now.
They've never seen me since I was a child but once,
and that was a few year ago. I 've never sent
to them to say how badly I was o£ They 're
yonnger than I am, and can only just take care of
theirselves. When mother married again, her
husband came to live at the house ; he was a dyer.
He behaved very well to me. Mother wouldn't
send me down to uncle's, she was too fond of me.
I was sent to school for about eighteen months,
and after that I used to assist in the glaring at
home, and so I went on very comfortable for some
time. Nine year ago I went to work at a French
dyer's, in Bathbone-pUice. My step-fiither got me
thero, and there I stopped six year. I lived in
the house after the first eighteen months of my
Five year ago mother foil ill ; she had

been ailing many years, and she got admitted into
the Consumption Hospital, at Brompton. She was
there just upon three months and was coming out
the next day (her term was up), when she died
on the over night. After that my step-father
altered very much towards me. He didn't want
me at home at alL He told me so a fortnight
after mother was in her grave. He took to
drinking very hearty directly she was gone. He
would do anything for me beforo that He used
to take me with him to every pkoe of amusement
what he went to, but when he took to drinking
he quite changed ; then he got to beat me, and at
last he told me I needn't come there any more.

** After that, I still kept working in Kathbone-
place, and got a lodging of my own ; I used to have
9s. a week where I was, and I paid 2s. a week for
my bed, and washing, and mending. I had half a
room with a man and his wifo ; I went on so for
about two years, and then I was took bad with the
scarlet fever and went to Gray's-inn-lane hospital.
After I was cured of the scarlet fever, I had the
brain fever, and was near my death; I was alto-
gether eight weeks in the hospital, and when I
come out I could get no work where I had been
before. The master's nephew had come from
Paris, and they had all French hands in the house.
He wouldn't employ an English hand at all.
He give me a trifle of money, and told me he
would pay my lodgings for a week or two while I
looked fur work. I sought all about and couldn't
find any ; this was about three year ago. People
wouldn't have me because I didn't know nothing
about the English mode of business. I couldn't
even tell the names of the English drugs, having
been brought up in a French house. At last, my
master got tired of paying for my lodging, and I
used to try and pick up a few pence in the streeU
by carrying boxes and holding horses, it was all
as I could get to do ; I tried all I could to find
employment, and they was the only jobs I could
get But I couldn't make enough for my lodging
this way, and over and over again I 've had to
sleep out Then I used to walk the streets most
of the night, or lie about in the markets till
morning came in the hopes of getting a job.
I 'm a very little eater, and perhaps that 's the
luckiest thing for such as me; hsif a pound of
bread and a few potatoes will do me for the day.
If I could afford it, I used to get a ha'porth
of co£fee and a ha'porth of sugar, and make it do
twice. Sometimes I used to have victuals give to
me, sometimes I went without altogether; and
sometimes I couldn't eat I can't always.

"Six weeks after I had been knocking about in
the streets in the manner I 've told you, a man I
met in Govent-Garden market told me he was
going into the country to get some roots (h was
in the winter time and cold indeed; I was
dressed about the same as I am now, only I had
a pair of boots) ; and he said if I chose to go
with him, he 'd give me half of whatever he
earned. I went to Croydon and got some prim-
roses; my share came to 9d,, and that was quite a
God-send to me, after getting nothing. Sometimes
beforo that I 'd been two days without tasting

76

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

anything; and when I got some yictnals after
that, I couldn't touch them. All I felt was giddy ;
I wam't to laj hungry, only weak and tieklified.
I went with this man after the roots two or three
times ; he took me to oblige me, and show me
the way how to get a bit of food for myself; after
that, when I got to know all about it, I went to
get roots on my own account. I never felt a
wish to take nothing when I was very hard up.
Sometimes when I got cold and was tired, walk-
ing about and weak from not having had nothing to
•at, I used to think I 'd break a window and take
something out to get locked up; but I could
never make my mind up to it; they never hurt
me, I'd say to myself. 1 do fancy though, if
anybody had refused me a bit of bread, I should
have done something again them, but I couldn't,
do you see, in cold blood like.

" When the summer came round a gentleman
whom I seed in the market asked me if I 'd get
him half a dozen nestics — he didn*t mind what
they was, so long as they was small, and of dif-
ferent kinds— and as I 'd come across a many in
my trips after the flowers, I told him I would do
so — and that first put it into my head ; and I 've
been doing that every summer since then. It 's
poor work, though, at the best Often and often
I have to walk 30 miles out without any victuals
to take with me, or money to get any, and 80
miles again back, and bring with me about a
dosen nesties ; and, perhaps, if I 'd no order for
them, and was forced to sell them to the boys, I
shouldn't get more than a shilling for the lot after
all. When the time comes round for it, I go
Christmasing and getting holly, but that's more
dangerous work than bird-nesting; the farmers
don't mind your taking the nesties, as it prevents
the young birds from growing up and eating their
corn. The greater part of the holly used in Lon-
don for trimming up the churches and sticking in
the puddings, is stolen by such as me, at the risk
of getting six months for it. The farmers brings
a good lot to market, but we is obligated to steal
it. Take one week with another, I 'm sure I
don't make above 5f. You can tell that to look
at me. I don't drink, and I don't gamble ; so
yon can judge how much I get when I 've had to
pawn my shirt for a meal. All lost week I only
sold two nesties — they was a partridge's and a
yellow-hammer's ; for one I got 6</., and the other
Zd.f and I had been thirteen miles to get them.
I got beside that a fouri>enny piece for some
chickweed which I'd been up to Uighgato to
gather for a man with a bad leg (it's the best
thing there is for a poultice to a wound), and then
I earned another Ad. by soaie mash (marsh) mal-
low leaves (that there was to purify the blood of
a poor woman) : that, with id. that a gentleman
give to me, was all I got last week ; \t. 9f/. I think
it is altogether. I had some yictuals give to me in
the street, or else I dare8;iy I should have had to
go without ; but, as it was, I gave the money to
the man and his wife I live with. You see they
had nothing, and as thoy 're good to me when I
want, why, I did wliat I could for them. I 've
tried to get out of my present life, but there

seems to be an ill luck again me. Boraetimet I
gets 1 good turn. A gentleman giTet me an
order, and then I nres a shilling or dgfateen-
pence, so as to buy something with that I can acU
again in the streets ; but a wet day is sure to
come, and then I 'm cracked up, obligated to eat
it all away. Once I got to sell fish. A gentle-
man give me a crown-piece in the itreet, and I
borrowed a barrow at 2d. a day, and did pretty
well for a time. In three weeks I had Kved
18«. ; then I got an order for a aack of mosi
from one of the flower-sellers, and I went down
to Chelmsford, and stopped for the night in
Lower Nelson-street, at the sign of *' The Three
Queens." I had my money safe in my fob the
night before, and a good pair of boots to my ftet
then ; when I woke in the morning my boota was
gone, and on feeling in my fob my money was
gone ton. There was four beds in the roons,
feather and flock ; the feather ones was id., and
the flock Zd. for a single one, and 2^. each
person for a double one. There was siz people
in the room that night, and one of 'em was gone
before I awoke— he was a cadger — and bad took
my money with him. I complained to the land-
lord— they call him George — but it was no good ;
all I could get was some victuals. So I 're been
obliged to keep to birds'-nesting eyer since.

'' I 've never been in prison but once. I waa took
up for begging. I was merely leaning again the
railings of Tavistock-square with my Urds'-nesties
in my hand, and the policemen took me off to
Olerkenwell, but the magistrates, instead of send*
ing me to prison, gave me 2x. out of the poor/*
box. I feel it very much going about without
shoes or without shirt, and exposed to all wea-
thers, and often out nil night The doctor at
the hospital in Oray's-inn-lane gaye me two
flannels, and told me that whatever I did I was
to keep myself wrap{)ed up ; but what *s the use
of saying that to such as me who is obligated to
pawn the shirt oif our back for food the first wet
day OS comes ? If you haven't got money to pay
for your bed at a lodging- houle, you must take
the shirt off your back and leave it with them, or
else they '11 turn you out. I know many such.
Sometimes I go to an artist. I hod b*. when I was
drawed before the Queen. I wasn't 'zactly
drawed before her, but my portrait was shown to
her, and I was told that if I 'd be there I might
receive a trifle. I was drawed as a gipsy
fiddler. Mr. Onkley in Regent-street was the
gentleman ns did it. I was dressed in some things
he got for me. I had an Italian's hat, one with
a broad brim and a peaked crown, a red plush
waistcoat, and a yellow hankercher tied in a good
many knots round my n«?ck. I 'd a black velveteen
Newmarket-cut coat, with very large pearl but-
tons, and a {>air of black knee-breeches tied with
fine red strings. Then I 'd blue stripe stockings
and high-ancle boots with very thin soles. I 'd a
fiddle in one hand and a bow in the other. The

fntleman said he drawed me for my head of hair,
ve never been a gipsy, but he told me he
didn't mind that, for I should make as good a
gipsy fiddler as the real thing. The artists

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

77

looitlj giT6 me 2«. I 've only been three timei.
I only wuh I could get away from my preaent
lila» Indeed I would do any work if I could get
iL I 'm fare I could hate a good character from
ny matters in Bathbone>pIace, for I never done
nothing wrong. But if I couldn't get work I
might very well, if I'd money enough, get a
few flowers to seU. As it is it '§ more than any one
can do to save at bird-netting, and I 'm sure I 'm
at prudent at e*er a one in the streets. I never
took the pledge, but still I never take no beer nor
spirits— I never did. Mother told me never to
touch 'em, and I haven't tasted a drop. I 've
often been In a public-house selling my things, and
people hat offered me something to drink, but I
never touch any. I can't tell why I dislike doing so
.-4rat something teems to tell me not to taste such
tta£ I don't know whether it 's what my mother
said to me. I know I wat very fond of her, but
I don't tay it 't that altogether at makes me do it.
I don't feel to want it I smoke a good bit,
and would sooner have a bit of baccy than a
meal at any time. I could get a goodith rig-
out in the lane for a few thUlings. A pair of
boots would cott me 2«., and a coat I could get
for 2s. M. I go to a ragged tchool three times a
week if I can, for I 'm but a poor scholar still, and
I should like to know how to read ; it 't alway t
handy you know, tir."

Thw lad hat been tupplied with a suit of
dothet and tufficient money to ttart him in some
of the better kind of street-trades. It was thought
advisable not to put him to any more teiUed occu-
pation on account of the vagrant habits he has
necessarily acquired during his bird-nesting career,
fiefore doing this he was employed as errand-boy
for a week, with the object of testing his trust-
worthinett, and wat found both honett and atten-
tive. He appeart a pradent lad, but of courte it
it difficult, at yet, to speak positively oa to his
character. He has, however, been assured that if
he thowi a ditpotition to follow tome more re-
putable calling he thall at leatt be put in the way
of ao doing.

Of THE Strekt-Sxllebs OF Squibbels.

Ths ttreet tquirrel-tellert are generally the same
men at are engaged in the open-air traffic in cnge-
birdt. There are, however, about tix men who
devote themtelvet more particularly to squirrel-
telling, while at many more tometimes " take a
turn at it" The squirrel is usually carried in
the vendor's arms, or is held against the front of
his coat, so that the animal's long bushy tail is
seen to advantage. There is usually a red leather
collar round its neck, to which it attached tome
slender string, but so contrived that the squirrel
shall not appear to be a prisoner, nor in general —
although perhi^t the hawker became possessed
of his squirrel only that morning — does the animal
thow any tymptomt of fear.

The chief placet in which tquirrelt are offered
for tale, are Begent-ttreet and the Royal Exchange,
but they are offered alto in all the principal
thoroughforei — etpecially at the Wett End. The

purchatert are gentlefolk, tradetpeople, and a few
of the working clattet who are fond of animalt.
The wealthier pertont usually buy the tquirrelt
for their children, and, even after the firee life of
the woods, the animal teemt happy enough in the
revolving cage, in which it ** thinkt it climbs."

The prices charged are from 2s. to 5s., ** or more
if it can be got, " from a third to a half being profit
The sellers will oft enough state, if questioned,
that they caught the squirrels in Bpping Forest,
or Caen Wood, or any place sufficiently near
London, but*such is hardly ever the case, for the
squirrels are bought by them of the dealers in live
animals. Countrymen will sometimes catch a few
squirrels and bring them to London, and nine
times out of ten they sell them to the shop>
keepers. To sell three squirrels a day in the
street is accounted good work.

I am assured by the best-informed parties that
for five months of the year there are 20 men
selling squirrels in the streets, at from 20 to 50
per cent, profit, and that they average a weekly
sale of six each. The average price is from 2s. to
2s. 6d.f although not very long ago one man sold
a "wonderfully fine squirrel" in the street for
three half-crowns, but they are sometimes parted
with for Is. 6d. or less, rather than be kept over-
night Thus 2400 squirrels are vended yearly in
the streets, at a cost to the public of 240/.

Or THE Stkebt-Sellsbs or LsYSBm, Wild
Babbits, eto.

Thbrb are a few leverets, or young hares, told in
the streett, and they are vended for the mott part
in the tuburbs, where the houses are somewhat
detached, and where there are plenty of gardens.
The softness and gentleness of the leveret's look
pleases chHdren, more especially girls, I am in-
formed, and it is usually through their importu-
nity that the young hares are bought, in order
that they may be fed from the garden, and run
tame about an out- house. The leverets thus
sold, however, as regards nine out of ten,
soon die. They are rarely supplied with their
natural food, and all their natural habits are
interrupted. They are in constant fear and dan-
ger, moreover, from both dogs and cats. One
shopkeeper who sold foncy rabbits in a street off
the Westminster-road told me that he had once
tried to tame and rear levereU in hutches, as he
did rabbits, but to no purpose. He had no doubt
it might be done, he said, but not in a shop or a
small house. Three or four leverets are hawked
by the street-people in one basket and are seen
lying on hay, the basket having either a wide-
worked lid, or a net thrown over it The hawkers
of live poultry sell the mott leverett, but they are
vended alto by the tinging-bird tellers. The
animalt are nearly all bought, for thit traffic, at
Leadenhall, and are retailed at Is. to 2s, each,
one-third to one-half being profit Perhapt 800
are told this way yearly, producing 22/. 10s.

About 400 young wild rabbits are sold in the
street in a similar way, but at lower sums, fr^m
dd. to Od, each, Ad. being the mott frequent rate.

78

LOITDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

The yearly outlay ii tlins 6/. 18j: They thrive,
in confinement, no better than the leTereta.

Of THi Strut-Sillebb or Qold axd
SiLTKR Fish.
Of these dealen, residents in London, there are
about 70 ; but during my inquiry (at the begin-
ning of July) there were not 20 in town. One
of Uieir body knew of ten who were at work live-
fish selling, and there might be as many more,
he though^ "working" the remoter suburbs of
Blackheath, Croydon, Richmond, Twickenham,
Isleworth, or wherever there are villa re-
sidences of the wealthy. This is the season when
the gold and silver fish-sellen, who are altogether
a distinct class from the bird-sellers of the streets,
resort to the country, to vend their gUiss globes,
with the glittering fish swimming ceaselessly
round and round. The gold fish-hawkers are,
for the most part, of the very best class of the
street'Sellers. One of the principal fish-sellers is
in winter a stree^vendor of cough drops, hore-
hound candy, coltsfoot-sticks, and other medicinal
confectionaries, which he himself manufactures.
Another leading gold-fish seller is a costermongcr
now "on pine- apples." A third, "with a good
connection among the innkeepers/* is in the
autumn and winter a hawker of game and
poultry.

There are in London three wholesale dealers in
gold and silver fish; two of whom — one in the
kingshmd-road and the other close by Billings-
gate— supply more especially the street-sellers,
and the street-traffic is considerable. Gold fish
is one of the things which people buy when
brought to their doors, but which they seldom
care to "order." The importunity of children
when a man unexpectedly tempts them with a
display of such brilliant creatures as gold fish, is
another great promotive of the street- trade ; and
the street-traders arc the best customers of the
wholesale purveyors, bnying somewhere about
three-fourths of their whole stock. The dealers
keep their fish in tanks suited to the purpose, but
goldfish are never bred in London. The English-
reared gold fish are "raised" for the most part, as
respects the London market, in several places in
]*^8sex. In some parts they are bred in warm
ponds, the water being heated by the steam from
adjacent machinery, and in some places they are
found to thrive well. Some are imported from
France, Holland, and Belgium ; some are brought
from the Indies, nnd nre usually sold to the
dealers to improve their breed, which every
now and then, I was told, " required a foreign
mixture, or they didn't keep up their colour."
The Indian and foreign fi»h, however, are also
sold in the streets ; the dealers, or rather the
Essex breeders, who are often in London,
have "just the pick of them," usually through
the agency of their town customers. The English-
reared gold fish are not much short of three-
fourths of the whole supply, as the importation
of these fishes is troublesome ; and unless they
are sent under the care of a competent person, or
unless the master or steward of n vessel is nude

to incur a share in the ventnre, by behig paid
so much freight-money lor as nuuiT gdd and
silver fishes as are landed in good nealtk, wd
nothing for the dead or dying, it ia Teij hawrdow
sending them on shipboard at all, at in case ef
necdect they may all die during the Toyage.

The gold and silver fish are of the carp ipaciei^
and are natives of China, but they were first in-
troduced into this country from Portugal abont
1690. Some are still brought from Portqpl.
They have been common in England for aboat ISO
years.

These fish are known in the stroet4ade as
"globe" and "pond" fish. The distioetaoii is
not one of species, nor even of the "variety" of a
species, but merely a distinction of siae. The
larger fish are "pond;" the smaller, "glebe."
But the difiference on which the street-saUcn
principally dwell is that the pond fish are bt
more troublesome to keep by them in a '^ slack
time," as they must be fed and tended most
sedulously. Their food is stale bread or biscait
The " globe" fish are not fed at all by the street-
dealer, as the aninudcules and the minute insects
in the water suffice for their food. Soft, rain, or
sometimes Thames water, is nsed for the filling df
the globe containing a street-seller's gold fish, the
water being changed twice a day, at a pnbKe-
house or elsewhere, when the hawker ia on a
round. Spring-water is usually rejected, as the
soft water contains " more feed." One nan, how-
ever, told me he had recourse to the street-purope
for a renewal of water, twice, or oocasiooally
thrice a day, when the weather was sultry ; but
spring or well water " wouldn't do at all" He
was quite unconscious that he was using it from
the pump.

The wholesale price of these fish ranges from
fis. to 18«. per dosen, with a higher charge for
" picked fish." when high prices must be paid.
The cost of "large silvers," for instance, which are
scarcer than " large golds," so I heard them called,
is sometimes 5«. apiece, even to a retailer, and
rarely less than 3«. 6d. The most frequent price,
retail from the hawker — for almost all the fish
are hawked, but only there, I presume, for a tem-
porary purpose — is 2s. the pair. The gold fish
are now always hawked in glass glolMS, con-
taining about a dosen occupants, within a diameter
of twelve inches. These globes are fold by the
hawker, or, if ordered, supplied by him on his
next round that way, the price being about
2s, Qlass globes, for the display of gold fish,
are indeed manufactured at from 6d. to 1/. lOi.
each, but 2s. or 2s. 6d. is the usual limit to
the price of those vended in the street The
fi»h are lifted out of the water in the globe to con-
sign to a purchaser, by being caught in a neat net,
of fine and difierent-coloured cordage, always
carried by the hawker, and manufactured for the
trade at 2s. the dozen. Neat handles for these
nets, of stained or plain wood, are Is. the doaen.
The dealers avoid touching the fish with their
hands. Both gold fi«h and glass globes nn much
cheaper than they were ten years ago ; the globes
are cheaper, of course, since the alteration in the

LONDON LABOUR AND THB LONDON POOR.

79

tax on glaia, and the street^Uen are, mimerically,
neariy double wbat they were.

From a weD-looking and well-spoken yonth of
SI or 22, I had the following account. He was
Ibe eon, and gnmdaon, of costermongen, bnt was
— ^perhape, in conaeqnence of his gold-fish selling
lying among a class not nsnally the costermongers'
castomen— of more refined manners than the gene-
rality of the ooeters' children.

" I 'to been in the streets, sir," he said, " help-
ing my £uher, until I was old enough to sell on
my own accoant, since I was six years old. Yet,
im$a ttnd life, FU tdl you the plain tnUh,
far I waeptU by my father to a papentainer, and
fomnd I couldn't hear to stay in doors. It would
hate kiUed me. Gold fish are as good a thing to
sell aa anything else, perhaps, but I 'to been a
eoetermonger as well, and haye sold both fruit
and good fiih salmon and fine soles. Gold fish
are not good for eating. I tried one once, just out
of curiosity, and it tasted very bitter indeed ; I
tasted it boiled. I've worked both town and
eonntry on gold fish. I 're serred both Brighton
and Hastings. The fish were sent to me by rail,
in Tesseb with air-holes, when I wanted more. I
never stopped at lodging-houies, but at respectable
pnblie-bottses, where I could be well suited in the
care of my fish. It 's an expense, but there *s no
help for it." [A costermonger, when I questioned
him on the subject, told me that he had sometimes
sold gold fish ill the country, and though he had
often enough slept in common lodging-houses, he
never oonld carry bis fish there, for he felt satis-
fied, although he had never tested the fact, that
in nine out of ten such places, the fish, in the
summer season, would half of them die during the
night from the foul air.] " Gold fish sell better in
the eonntry than town," the street-dealer continued ;
** much better. They 're more thought of in the
covmtry. My fother's sold them all over the world,
as the saying is. I've sold both foreign and
English fish. I prefer Bnglish. They're the
hardiest ; Bssex fish. The foreign — I don't just
know what port— are bred in milk ponds; kept
fresh and sweet, of course; and when they're
brought here, and come to be put in cold water,
they soon die. In Essex they 're bred in cold
water. They live about three years; that 's their
lifetime if they 're properly seen to. I don't know
what kind of fish gold fish are. I 've heard that
they first came from China. No, I can't read, and
I *m very sorry for it. If I have time next winter
1 11 get taugh^ Gentlemen sometimes ask me to
sit down, and talk to me about fish, and their his-
tory (natursl history), and 1 'm often at a loss, which
I mightn't be if I could read. If I have fish left
after my day's work, I never let them stay in the
globe I 've hawked them in, bnt put them into a
large pan, a tub sometimes, three-parts full of
water, where they have room. My customers are
hulies and gentlemen, but I have sold to shop-
keepers, such as buttermen, that often show gold
fish and flowers in their shops. The fish don't
live long in the very small globes, but they 're put
in them sometimes just to satisfy children. I 've
sold as many at two doien at a time to stock a

pond in a gentleman's garden. It 's the best sale
a little way out of town, in any direction. I sell
six dozen a week, I think, one week with another ;
they'll run as to price at 1«. apiece. That six
dosen includes what I sell both in town and
country. Perhaps I sell them nearly .three-parts
of the year. Some hawk all the year, but it 's a
poor winter trade. Tes, I make a very fiiir
living ; 2r. 6d. or 8«. or so, a day, perhaps, on
gold fish, when the weather suits."

A man, to whom I was referred as an expe-
rienced gold fish-seller, had just returned, when I
saw him, from the sale of a stock of new potatoes,
peas, &c, which he ** worked" in a donkey cart.
He had not this season, he said, started in the

Sild-fish line, and did very little last year in it, as
s costermongering trade kept steady, but his
wife thought gold fish-selling was a better trade,
and she always accompanied him in his street
rounds ; so he might take to it again. In his
youth he was in the service of an old lady who
nad several pets, and among them were gold fish,
of which she was very proud, always endeavour-
ing to procure the finest, a street-seller being sure
of her as a customer if he had fish larger or
deeper or brighterK:oloured than usual. She kept
them both in stone cisterns, or small ponds, in her
garden, and in glass globes in the house. Of these
fish my informant had the care, and was often com-
mended for his good management of them. After
his mistress's death he was very unlucky, he said,
in his places. His last master having been implicated,
he believed, in some gambling and bill-discount-
ing transactions, left the kingdom suddenly,
and my informant was without a character, for
the master he served previously to the one who
went off so abruptly was dead, and a character
two years back was of no use,'for people said,
" Bnt where have you been living since 1 Let me
know all about that" The man did not know
what to do, for his money was soon exhausted :
" I had nothing left," he said, ** which I could
turn into money except a very good great coat,
which had belonged to my last master, and which
was given to me because he went off without

rying me my wages. I thought of 'listing, for
was tired of a footman's life, almost always in
the house in such places as I had^ but I was
too old, I feared, and if 1 could have got over
that I knew I should be rejected because I was
getting bald. I was sitting thinking whatever
could be done — I wasn't married then — and had
nobody to consult with ; when I heard the very
man aa used to serve my old lady crying gold
fish in the street It struck me all of a heap, and
I wonder I hadn't thought of it before, when I
recollected how well I 'd managed the fish, that
I 'd sell gold fish too, and hawk it aa he did, as it
didn't seem such a bad trade. So I asked the
man all about it, and he told me, and I nused a
sovereign on my great coat, and that was my start
in the streets. I was nervous, and a little 'shamed
at first, but I soon got over that, and in time
turned my hand to fruit and other things. Gfold
fish saved my life, sir; I do believe that, for I
might have pined into a consumption if I 'd been

80

LONDON LABOUR AND TUB LONDON POOR.

without lomethuig to do, and ■omething to eat
much longer."

If we calculate, in order to allow for the cessa-
tion of the trade daring the winter, and often in the
summer when costermongering is at its best, that
but half the above-mentioned number of gold-fish
sellers hawk in the streets and that for but half a
year, each selling six doxen weekly at Vl$. the
dozen, we find tf5,5*20 fish sold, at an outUj of
3276^. As the country is also "worked" by
the London street-sellers, and the supply is derived
from London, the number and amount may bo
doubled to include this traffic, or 131,040 fish
sold, and 6552/. expended.

Or THB Steut-Sellbr0 ov To&toues.
The number of tortoises sold in the streets of
London is far greater than might be imagined, for
it is a creature of no utility, and one which is
inanimate in this country for half its life.

Of live tortoises, there are 20,000 annually im-
ported from the port of Mogadore in Morocco.
They are not brought over, as are the parrots, &c.,
of which I have spoken, for amusement or as pri-
vate ventures of the seamen, but are regularly
consigned firom Jewish houses in Mogadore, to
Jewish merchants in London. They are a freight
of which little care is taken, as they are brought
over principally as ballast in the ship's hold, where
they remain torpid.

The street-sellers of tortoises are costermongers
of the smarter class. Sometimes the vendors of
shells and foreign birds ** work "also a few tor-
toises, and occasionally a wholesale dealer (the
consignee of tho Jewish house in Africa) will
send out his own servants to sell barrow-loads
of tortoises in the street on his own account.
They are regularly rangt^ on the barrows, and
certainly present a curious appearance— -half-
alive creatures as they are (when the weather
is not of the wannest), brought from another
continent for sale by thousands in the strc'cts
of London, and retention in the gardens and
grounds of our civic villas. Of the number
imported, one-half, or 10,000, are yearly sold in
the streets by the several open-air dealers I have
mentioned. The wholesale price is from is. to 6«.
the dozen ; they are retailed from 6</. to 1«., a
very fine well-grown tortoise being sometimes
worth 2». 6<i. The mass, however, are sold at
Qd. to 9(i. each, but many fetch Is. They
are bought for children, and to keep in gardens as
I have said, and when properly fed on lettuce
leaves, spinach, and similar vegetables, or on
white bread sopped in water, will live a long
time. If the tortoise be neglected in a garden,
and have no access to his fiivourite food, he will
eat almost any green thing which comes in his
way, and so may commit ravages. During the
winter, and the later autumn and earlier spring,
the tortoise is torpid, and may be kept in a
drawer or any recess, until the approach of sum-
mer " thaws " him, as I heard it called.

Calculating the average price of tortoises in
street-sale at %d. each, we find upwards of 333/.
thus expended yearly.

Or THi Stsket-Sillib8 or Shails^ Fiooi^
Wo&xs, SxAus, HKDaiHoos, na

I OLAM together these ieveral kinds of live cret*
tares, as they are all '< gathered " and told by ^
same persons — ^principally by the men who npply
bird-food, of whom I have given aoeonnta in ny
statemenu concerning groundsel, chickweed, plain-
tain, and turf-selling.

The principal tttail-selUrs, however, are the
turf-cutters, who are young and active men, while
the groundsel-sellers are often old and infinn and
incapable of working all night, aa the neoesdtiei
of the snail-trade often require. Of torf-calten
there were, at the time of my inquiry last wintar,
42 in London, and of these fnll one-third are te-
gular purveyors of snails, such being the daintkr
diet of the caged bUu;kbirds and thiushee. Thsis
men obtain their supply of snails in the markel-
gardens, the proprietors willingly gimnting leave te
any known or duly recommended person who will
rid them of these depredators. Seven-eighths ef
the quantity gathered are sold to the bird-dealen^
to whom the price is 2<i. a quart. The other
eighth is sold on a street round at from 3d. to 6dL
the quart. A quart contains at least 80 snaili^
not heaped up, their shells being measnred alomr
with them. One man told me there were " 100
snails to a fitir quart."

When it is moonlight at this teaeon of the year,
the snail gatherers sometimes work all night ; at
other times from an hour before sunset to the
decline of daylight, the work being reeomed at
the dawn. To gather 12 quarts in a night» or a
long evening and morning, is accounted a pros-
perous harvest. Half that quantity is ** pcetty
tidy." An experienced man said to me : —

" The best snail grounds, sir, you may take my
word fur it, is in Putney and Barnes. It 's the
' greys ' we go for, the fellows xAxh the shells on
'em ; the black snails or slugs is no good to os. I
think snails is the slowest got money of any. I
don't suppose they get 's scarcer, but there 's good
seasons for snails and there's bad. Warm and
wet is best We don't take the little 'una. They
come next year. I may make 1/. a year, or a
little more, in snails. In winter there's hardly
anything done in them, and the snails is on the
ground ; in summer they 're on the walls or leaves.
They'll keep six months without injury; they'll
keep the winter round indeed in a proper place."

I am informed that the 14 snail gatheren
on the average gather six dozen quarts each in a
year, which supplies a toul of 12,096 quarts, or
individually, 1,189,440 snails. The labourers m
the gardens, I am informed, may gather somewhat
more than an equal quantity, — all being eold to
the bird-shops ; so that altogether the supply of
snails for the caged thrushes and blackbirds of
London is about two millions and a hall Com-
puting them at 24,000 quarts, and only at 2d i
quart, the ontUy is 200/. per annum.

The Froffs sold by street-people are, at the rats
of about 3t> dozen a year, disposed of in equsl
proportion to University and King's Colleges.
Only two men collect the frogs, one for each hoi^

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

81

pitaL • Tbej are charged \d, each : — ** I 've some-
tunes," said one of the frog-pnrvejon, ** come on
a place where I eoald have got six or scTen dozen
in a day, bat that 's mostly been when I didn't
want than. At other times I *Te gone days with-
out ooUaring a single frog. I only want them four
timea a year, and four or five dozen at a time.
The low part of Hempstead 's the best ground for |
them, I think. The doctors like big Mows. They I
keep them in water 'til they 're wanted to dissect" I
One man thonght that there might be 50 more I
firogs or upwards ordered yearly, dirough the bird- {
•hope, for ezperimente under air-pomps, &c This I
gives abent 600 firogs sold yearly by the street- '
people. One year, howeyer, I was told, the supply {
was larger, for a QunberweU gentleman ordered 40 ,
frogs to stock a watery pUice at the foot of his
garden, as he liked to hear and see them.

The T<md trade is almost a nonentity. One
man, who was confident he had as good a trade in
that line aa any of his fellows, told me that last
year he only supplied one toad ; in one year, he

forgot the precise time, he collected ten. He was
confident that from 12 to 24 a year was now
the extent of the toad trade, perhaps 20. There
was no regular price, and the men only " work to
order." ** It 's just what Uie shopkeeper, mostly
a herbalist, likes to give." I was told, from \d, to
6d. according to size. " I don't know what they 're
wanted for, something about the doctors, I believe.
But if you want any toads, sir, for an3rthiog, I
know a pUoe between Hampstead and Willesden,
where there 's real stunners."

Wormi are collected in small quantities by the
street-sellers, and very grudgingly, for they are to
be supplied gratuitously to the shopkeepers who
are the customers of the turf-cutters, and snail
and worm collectors. " They expects it as a
parquisite, like." One man told me that they only
gathered ground worms for the bird-fonciers.

Of the Snake9 and Bedaehogg I have already
spoken, when treating of the collection of birds'-
nests. I am told tlmt some few glvw-woriM are
collected.!

OF THE STREET-SELLEES OF MINERAL PRODUCTIONS
AND NATURAL CURIOSITIES.

Thi dasa of which I have now to treat, includ-
ing as it does the street-sellers of coal, coke, tan-
to^ salt, and sand, seem to have been called
into existence principally by the necessities of
the poorer classes. As the earnings of thou-
sands of men, in all the slop, ** slaughter-house,"
or " scamping " branches of tailoring, shoe-
making, cabinet-making, joining, &c. have be-
come lower and lower, they are compelled to
purchase the indispensable articles of daily con-
sumption in the smallest quantities, and at irregu-
lar times, just as the money is in their possession.
This is more especially the case as regards
chamber-masters and garret-masters (among the
shoemakers) and cabinet-makers, who, as they are
small masters, and working on their own account,
have not even such a regularity of payment as the
journeyman of the slop-tailor. Among these poor
artizans, moreover, the wife must slave with the
hosband, and it is often an object with them to
lave the time lost in going out to the chandler's-
shop or the coal- shed, to have such things as coal,
sod coke brought to their very doors, and vended
in the smallest quantities. It is th^ same with
the women who work fiw the slop-shirt merchants,
&C., or make cap-fronts, Ac, on their own account
for the supply of the shoidieepers, or the whole-
Mle svrag-men, who sell low-priced millinery. The
itreet-sellers of the class I have now to notice are,
then, the principal purveyors of the very poor.

The men engaged in the street-sale of coal and
coke — ^the chief articles of this branch of the
ttreeteale — are of the costermonger class, as, in-
deed, is usually the case where an exercise of
bodily strength is requisite. Costermongers, too,
tte better versed than any other street-folk in the
loanagement of barrows, carts, asses, ponies, or
horses, so that when these vehicles and these

animals are a necessary part of any open-air
business, it will generally be found in the hands
of the coster chiss.

Nor is this branch of the street-traflic confined
solely to articles of necessity. Under my present
enumeration will be found the street-sale of shdU,
an ornament of the mantel-piece above the fire-
grate to which coal is a necessity.

The present division will complete the subject
of Street Sale in the metropolis.

Or THi Stbhi-Sellsbs or Coals.
AcfCOBDiHo to the returns of the coal market for
the last few years, there has been imported into
London, on an average, 3,500,000 tons of sea-
borne coal annually. Besides this immense supply,
the various railways have lately poured in a con-
tinuous stream of the same commodity from the
inland districts, which has found a ready sale
without sensibly affecting the accustomed vend of
the north country coals, long established on the
Coal Exchange.

To the very poor the importance of coal can be
scarcely estimated. Physiological and medical
writers tell us that carbonaceous food is that which
produces heat in the body, and is therefore the
fuel of the system. Experience tells us that this
is true; for who that has had an opportunity of
visiting the habitations of the poor— the dwellers
in ill-furnished rooms and garrets — ^has not re-
nnarked the more than half-starved slop needle-
woman, the wretched half-naked children of the
casually employed labourer, as the dock-man, or
those whose earnings are extorted from them by
their employers, such as the ballast- man, sitting
crouched around the smouldering embers in the
place where the fire ought to bel The reason of
this is, because the systen^ of the sufferer by long

82

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

want of food hai been deprired of the neeetnry
internal heat, and so leeki inttinctiTely to nipply
the deficiency by imbibing it from tome ontwaid
■onrce. It if on this aoeonnt chiefly, I beliere,
that I haTo found the ill-paid and ill-fed work-
people priie wannth ahnoet more than food.
Among the poorest Irish, I hare inTaiiably found
them crowding round the wretched fire when they
had nothing to cat.

The census returns of the present year (ae-
cording to the accounts published in the news-
papers) estimate the number of the inhabitants
of London at 2,868,141, and the number of inha*
bited houses as 807,722. Now if we take into
consideration that in the immense suburbs of the
metropolis, there are branching off from ahnost
every street, labyrinths of courts and alleys,
teeming with human beings, and that almost
every room has its separate fomily— for it takes a
multitude of poor to make one rich man — we may

be able to arrive at the conclusion that by fitf the
greater proportion of coals brought into London
ore consumed by the poorer classes. It is on this
account of the highest importance, that honesty
should be the characteristic of those engaged in
the vend and distribution of an article so neces-
sary not only to the comfort but to the very
existence of the great masses of the population.

The modes in which the coals imported into
London are distributed to the various classes of
consumers are worthy of observation, as they un-
mistakably exhibit not only the wealth of the
few, but the poverty of the many. The inhabit-
ants of Belgravia, the wealthy shopkeepers, and
many others periodically see at their doors the
well-loaded waggon of the coal merchant, with two
or tliree swarthy " coal-porters " bending beneath
the black heavy sacks, in the act of Uying in the
10 or 20 tons for yearly or half-yearly consump-
tion. But this class is supplied from a very
different quarter firom that of the artisans, la-
bourers, and many others, who, being unable to
spare money snfiicient to lay. in at once a ton or
two of coals, must have recourse to other means.
To meet their limited resources, there may be
found in every part, always in back streets, per-
sons known as coal-shed men, who get the coals
from the merchant in 7, 14, or 20 tons at a time,
and retail them from \ cwt upwards. The coal-
shed men are a very numerous cUss, for there
is not a low neighbourhood in any part of the city
which contains not two or three of them in every
street

There is yet another class of purchasers of
coals, however, which I have called the 'very
poor,' — the inhabitants of two pairs back — the
dwellers in garrets, &c. It seems to have been
for the purpose of meeting the wants of this class
that the street-sellers of coals have sprung into ex-
istence. Those who know nothing of &e. decent
pride which often lingers among the fimiishing poor,
can scarcely be expected to comprehend the great
boon that the street-sellers of coids, if they could
only be made honest and consdentious dealers,
are calculated to confer on these people. "I
have seen,*' says a correspondent, « Uie starveling

child of misery, in the gloom of the evenings
stMl timidly into the shop of the eoal-shed man,
and in a tremnkNia voloe ask, at if besging a
great fovour, for sss«ii pownd qf cotilt. The coal-
shed man l»s set down his pint of beer, taken
the pipe firom his month, blowing after it a cloud
of smoke, and in a gruff voice, at which the little
wretdi has shrunk up Hf it were possible) into
a less space than fomine had already reduced her
to, Mid demanded — ' Who told yon as how I
' 0* coal f— Qo to Bill G he

may sarve yon if he likes — ^I won't, and that's an
end on 't^-I wonders what people wants with seven
pound o' coal.' The coal-shed man, after delivering
himself of this enlightened observation, has pla-
cidly resumed his ppe, while the poor duld,
gliding out into the dri«ding fleet, disappeared in
the darkneff."

The ftreet-felUrf rend any quantity at the
very door of the purchaser, without rendering it
necessary for them to expose their poverty to the
prying eyes of the neighbourhood ; and, as I have
said were the street dealers only honest, they
would be confurring a great boon upon the poorer
portion of the people, but nnhappiljr it is scarcely
possible for them to be so, and realise a profit for
themselves. The police reports of the last year
show Uiat many of the coal merchants, standing
high in the estimation of the worid, have been
heavily ^fined for using folse weighta ; and, did
the present inquiry admit of it, there might be
mentioned many other infimions practices \q
which the public are shamefolly plundered in this
commodity, and which go for to prove that the
coal trade, in toto, is a gigantic firaud. May
I ask how it is possible for the street-sellers, with
such examples of barefoced dishonesty before their
eyes, even to dream of actmg honestly t If not
actually certain, yet strongly suspecting, that they
themselves are defrauded by the merchant, how
can it be otherwise than that they should resort
to every possible mode of defirauding their cni-
tomers, and so add to the already almost unen-
durable burdens of the poorest of the poor, who
by one means or other are made to bear all the
burdens of the country 1

The usual qiMntity of coals consumed in the
poorest rooms, in which a fiunily resides, is 4 cwt
per week in summer, and 1 cwt do. in winter,
or about 2 tons per annum.

The street sale of coals was carried on to a con-
siderable extent during the earlier part of the last
century, ** small coalmen" being among the regular
street-traders. The best known of these was Tom
Britton, who died through fright occasioned by a
practical joke. He was a great fosterer of a taite
for music among the people; for, after hawking
his coals during the day, he had a musical gathe^
ing in his humble abode in the evening, to which
many distinguished persons resorted. This is
alluded to in the lines, by Hughes, undor Tom
Britton's portrait, and the allusion, according to
the poetic fiuhion of the time being made by means
of a strained dassicality : —

** Cylleniuf so, ss foblet tell, and Jove,
Came willing guetu to poor Philemon "k grovsii'*

THE CRIPPLED STREET BIRD-SELLER.

[From a Dagtstrnotifpt bp Bbamd.]

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

88

T]i« tnda teemi to hATe disappeared gradually,
but has reoentl J been reyiyed in another form.

Some fewyean ago an ingenioot and enterprising
costennonger, daring a " slack" in his own basi-
nets, conceived the idea of porchasing some of the
refose of the coals at the wharfs, conveying them
round the poorer localities of his beat, in his ass-
or pony-cart, and vending them to ** room-keepers"
and others, in small quantities and at a reduced
rate, so as to undersell the coal-shed men, while
making for hunself a considerable profit. The
example was not lost upon his fraternity, and no
long time had elapsed before many others had started
in Uie same line ; this eventually took so much
custom from the regular coal-shed men, that, as a
matter of self-defence, those among them who had
a horse and cart, found it necessary to compete
with the originators of the system in their own'
way, and, being possessed of more ample means,
they succeeded, in a great measure, in driving
the costers out of the field. The success of the
coal-shed men was for a time so well followed
up, that they began by degrees to edge away
firmn the lanes and alleys, extending their excur-
sions into quarters somewhat more aristocratic, and
even there establishing a trade amongst those who
had previously taken their ton or half ton of coals
from the " brass-plate merchant," as he is called
in the trade, being a person who merely procures
orders for coals, gets some merchant who buys
in the coal market to execute them in his name,
and manages to make a liring by the profits of
these transactions. Some of this latter class con-
sequently found themselves compelled to adopt a
mode of doing their business somewhat similar, and
for that purpose hired vans from the proprietors
of those vehicles, loaded them with sacks of coals,
drove round among their customers, prepared to
fbmish them with sacks or half sacks, as they
felt disposed. Finally, many of the van pro-
prietors themselves, finding that business might
be done in this way, started in the line, and, being
in general men of some means, established it as a
regular trade. The van proprietors at the present
time do the greater part of the business, but there
may occasionally be seen, employed in this traffic,
all soru of conveyances, from the donkey-cart of the
costermonger, or dock labourer, the Utter of whom
endeavours to make up for the miserable pittance
he can earn at the rate of fourpence per hour, by
the profits of this calling, to the aristocratic van,
drawn along by two plump, well-fed horses, the
property of a man worth 800/. or 900/.

The van of the street-seller of coals is easily
distinguished from the waggon of the regular
meretuint. The merchant's waggon is always
loaded with sacks standing perpendicularly; it is
drawn by foar immense horses, and is driven along
by a gaunt figure, begrimed with coal-dust, and
" sporting " ancle boots, or shoes and gaiters, white,
or what ought to be white, stockings, velvet knee-
breechet, short tarry smock-frock, and a huge fiui-
tail hat slooching half-way down his back. The
itreet-seller's vehicle, on the contrary, has the coals
ihot into it without sacks ; while, on a tailboard,
extending behind, lie weights and scales. It is

most frequently drawn by one horse, but some-
times by two, with bells above their collars jing-
ling as they go, or else the driver at intervals
rings a bell like a dustman's, to announce his
approach to the neighbourhood.

The street-sellers formerly purchased their coals
firom any of the merchants along the rive^side;
generally the refuse, or what remained after the
best had been picked out by "skreening" or
otherwise ; but always taking a third or fourth
quality as most suitable for their purpose. But
since the erection of machinery for getting coals
out of the ships in the Begent's Canal basin, they
have resorted to that pUce, as the coals are at
once shot from the box in which they are raised
from the hold of the ship, into the cart or van,
saving all the trouble of being filled in sacks by
coal porters, and carried on their backs from the
ship, barge, or heap, preparatory to their being
emptied into the van; thus getting them at a
cheaper rate, and consequently being enabled to
realize a greater profit.

Since die introduction of inland coals, also, by
the railways, many of the street-sellers have
either wholly, or in part, taken to sell them on
account of the lower rate at which they can be
purchased ; sometimes they vend them unmixed,
but more frequently they mix them op with " the
small " of north country coaU of better quality, and
palm ofi'the compound as "genuine Wallsend direct
from the ship :" this (together with short weights)
being, in fiict, the principal source of their profit.

It occasionally happens that a merchant pur-
chases in the market a cargo of coals which
turns out to be damaged, very small, or of in-
ferior quality. In such cases he usually refuses to
take them, and it is difficult to dispose of them in
any regular way of trade. Such cargoes, or parts
of cargoes, are consequently at times bought up by
some of the more wealthy van proprietors engaged
in the coal line, who realise on them a great profit

To commence business as a street-seller of
coals requires little capital beyond the possession
of a horse and cart. The merchants in all cases
let street-sellers have any quantity of coals they
may require till they are able to dispose of them ;
and the street-trade being a ready-money business,
they can go on from day to day, or from week to
week, according to their pre-arrangements, so that,
as far as the commodity in which they deid is con-
cerned, there is no outlay of capital whatever.

There are about 80 two-horse vans continually
engaged in this trade, the price of each van

^2100

1200

1600

1600

20

80

being 70/. This gives

100 horses at 20/. each .

160 carU at 10/. each .

160 horses at 10/. each

20 donkey or pony carts, value 1 /. each

20 donkeys or ponies at 1/. 10<. each

Makmg a total of 210 vehicles conti-
nually employed, which, with the horses^
&c, may be valued at . . .

This sum, with the price of 210 sets
of weights and scales, at 1/. lOj. per set

Makes a total of .

6550

815

je6865

84

LONDON LABOUR AND THB LONDON POOR.

ThiJ may be fidrly tet down at the groet amount
of capital at preaent employed in the itreeijale of

It ii somewhat diiBcalt to ascertain correctly
the amount of coals distribnted in this way among
the poorer classes. But I hare foond that they
generally take two tarns per day; that is they
go to the wharfs in the morning, get their Tans
or carts loaded, and proceed on their various
rounds. This first turn usually occupies them
till dinnez^time, after which they get another load,
which is sufficient to keep them employed till
night. Now if we allow each van to carry two
and a half tons, it will make for all 150 tons per
day, or 900 tons per week. In the same manner
allowing the 160 carts to carry a ton each, it will
give 820 tons per day, or 1920 tons per week, and
the twenty pony carts half a ton each, 40 tons per
day, or 240 tons per week, making a total of 8060
tons per week, or 159,120 tons per annum. This
quantity purchased from the merchants at 14«. M.
per ton nmounts to 115,862/. annually, and sold
at the rate of 1«. per cwt, or It per ton, leaves
fk, 6d. per ton profit, or a total profit of 48,758/.,
and this profit difided according to the foregoing
account gives the subjoined amounts, vis. : —

To each two-horse van regularly employed
throngbout the year, a profit of . . £429 0

To each one-horse cart, ditto, ditto, 171 12

To each pony cart, ditto, ditto, 121 12

From which must, of course, be made the neces-
sary deductions for the keep of the animals and
the repair of vehicles, harness, &c

The keep of a good horse is 10s. per week ; a
pony 6«. Three horses can be kept for the price
of two, and so on; the more there are, the less cost
for each.

The localities where the street-sellers of coals
may most frequently be met with, are Blackwnll,
Poplar, Limchouse, Stepney, St. George's East,
Twig Folly, Bethnal Green, Spitolfields, Shore-
ditch, Kingsland, Haggerstone, and Islington. It
is somewhat remarkable that they are sJmost un-
known on the south side of the Thames, and are
seldom or never to be encountered in the low
streets and lanes in Westminster lying contiguous
to the river, nor in the vicinity of Marylebone,
lior in any place farther west than Shoreditch ;
this is on account of the distance from the Begent's
Canal basin precluding the possibility of their
nuiking more than one turn in the day, which
would greatly diminish their profits, even though
they might get a higher price for their com-
modity.

It nuty be observed that the foregoing statement
in figures is rather under the mark than otherwise,
as it is founded on the amount of coals purchased
at a certain rate, and sold at a certain profit,
without taking into account any of the "dodges"
which almost all classes of coal dealers, from the
highest to the lowest, are known to practise, so
that the rate of profit arising from this business
may be fairly supposed to amount to much more
than the above account can show in figures.

I received the following statement from a person
engaged in the street traffic :^

"I kept a eoal-ahad and gracngrocCT^a ihop^
and as I had a son grown up, I wanted to get
something for him to do ; so about six yean ago,
having a pony and cart, and teeing othen aelmif
coals dirough the street, I thought I 'd maka him

try his hand at it. I went to Kt, B ^'t, at

Whiting*s wharf, and got the cart loaded, and ttnt
my ton round our own neighbourliood. I feund
that he toon ditpoted of thos, and to ho want on
by degrees. People think we get a great deal of
profit, but we don't get near at mack at thsv
think. I paid 16«. a ton all the wintar fiv eeak
and told them for a thilling a hundred, and iriMB
I came to feed tibe horse I found that hoU
nearly eat it all up. A horte't boUy it not to
easy to fill. I don't think my son eazna aanek nait
now, in summer, than feeds the horse. li'a di^
ferent in winter ; he does not sell more nor half
a ton a day now the weather 's so warm. la
winter he can always sell a ton at the leatt, and
sometimes two, and on the Saturday he might sell
three or four. My cart holds a ton ; the vans bold
from two to three tons. I can't enetly tell how
many people are engaged in selling ooab in the
street, but there are a great many, that's oeitaia.
About eiffht o'clock wbtt a number of carts and
vans you 11 see about the Begent's CSanal I They
like to get away before bresJcfiwt, beoanto tbea
they may have another turn after dinner. There 's
a great many go to other places for coahL The
people who have vans do much bettor than those
with the carts, because they carry so mndi that
they save time. There are no great tecrela in
our business ; we haven't the same chaneo of 'doii^
the thing ' as the merchants have. They can mix
the coals up as they like for their customers,
and sell them for best ; all we can do is to boy
a low quality ; then we may lose our customers
if we play any tricks. To be sure, afUr that
we can go to parts where we're not known.
I don't use light weights, but I know it 's done
by a good many, and they mix up small coals
a good deal, and that of course helps their
profits. My son generally goes four or five miles
before he sells a ton of coals, and in snmmsr
weather a great deal fiirtber. It's hard-earned
money that 's got at it, I can tell you. My cart is
worth 12/.; I have a van worth 20/. I wouUn't
take 20/. for my horse. My van holds two tons
of coals, and the horse draws it easily. I sead
the van out in the winter when there 's a good
call, but in the summer I only send it out on the
Saturday. I never calculated how much profit I
made. I haven't the least idea how much is got
by it, but I 'm sure there 's not near as much as
you say. Why, if there was, I ought to have
made a fortune by this time." [It is right I shoold
state that I received the foregoing account of ths
profits of the street trade in coals from one prsc-
tically and eminently acquainted with it.] ** Soot
in the trade have done very well, but they wers
well enough off before. I know very well 111
never make a fi>rtune at anything; I'll be
satisfied if I keep moving along, so m to ke^
out of the dnion."

As to the habiu of the street-sellen of coals^

LONDON LABOUR AND TUB LONDON POOR,

85

th^ are m Tarioas at their diffisrent cireumstancea
will admit ; bnt they closely resemble each other
in one seneral characteriftic — ^their provident and
carefnl nabita. Many of them have riaen from
•troggling eoetermongers, to be men of rabatance,
with carta, Tana, and horsea of their own. Some
of the more wealthy of the claas may be met with
now and then in the parlours of respectable public
honaesy where they smoke their pipes, sip their
brandy and water, and are remarkable for the
abrewdness of their remarks. They mingle freely
with the respectable tradesmen of their own
localitieB, and may be seen, especially on the
Sunday afternoons, with their wives and showily-
dressed daughters in the gardens of the New
Qlobe, or Cheen Drsgon — the Cremome and Yanx-
hall of the east. I visited the house of one of
those who I was told had originally been a coster-
monger. The front portion of the shop was
almoai filled with coals, he having added to his
occupation of street-seller the business of a coal-
shed man; this his wife and a little boy managed
in his absence ; while, true to his early training,
the window-ledge and a bench before it were
heaped up with cabbages, onions, and other vege-
tables. In an open space opposite his door, I
observed a one-horse cart and two or three trucks
with his name painted thereon. At his invitation,
I paased through what may be termed the shop,
and entered the parlour, a neat room nicely
carpeted, with a round table in the centre, chairs
nulled primly round the walls, and a long looking-
glass reflecting the china shepherds and shep-
herdesses on the mantel-piece, while, framed and
gbzed, all around were highly-coloured prints,
among which, Dick Turpin, in flash red coat,
gallantly clearing the toll-gate in his celebrated
ride to York, and Jack Sheppard lowering himself
down from the window of the lock-up house, were
most conspicuous. In the window lay a few
books, and one or two old copies of BelCs Life.
Among the well-thumbed books, I picked out the
NtwffoU Calendar, and the " CcUeiidar of Orrei's"
as he called it, of which he expressed a very high
opinion. " Lor bless you," he exclaimed, ** them
there stories is the vonderfullest in the vorld ! I 'd
never ha believed it, if I adn*t seed it vith my
own two hies, but there can't be no mistake ven
I rsad it hout o* the book, can there, now? I
jist asks yer that ere plain question.'*

Of his career he gave me the following ac-
count:— "I vos at von time a coster, riglarly
brought up to the business, the times vas good
then ; but lor, ve used to lush at sich a rate !
About ten year ago, I ses to meself, I say Bill,
I 'm blowed if this here game 'ill do any longer.
I had a good moke (donkey), and a tidyish box
ov a cart ; so vot does I do, but goes and sees von
o' my old pals that gits into the coal-line some-
Itow. He and I goes to the Bell and Siven
Madterels in the Mile Bnd Road, and then he
tells me all he knowed, and takes me along vith
liissd^ and from that time I sticks to the coals.

" I niver cared much about the lush myself, and
▼en I got avay from the old uns, I didn't mind it
no how; but Jack my pal vos a awful lushy cove.

he couldn't do no good at nothink, votsomever ;
he died they sar of Urium tntmant** [not under-
standing what he meant, I inquired of what it
was he died] ; " why, of Urium trumant, rich I
takes to be too much of Trueman and Banbury's
heavy ; so I takes vamin by poor Jack, and cuta
the lush; but if you thinks as ve don't enjoy
ourselves sometimes, I tells you, you don't know
nothink about it. I 'm gittin on like a riglar house
afire."

Ov THS Stbeet-Ssllbbs ov Cokx.

AxoKO the occupations that have sprung up of
late years is that of the purchase and distribution
of the refuse cinders or coke obtained from the
different gas-works, which are supplied at a much
cheaper rate than coal. Several of the larger gas
companies bum as many as 100,000 tons of coals
per annum, and some even more, and every
ton thus burnt is stated to leave behind two chal-
drons of coke, returning to such companies 50
per cent of their outlay upon the coal. The dis-
tribution of coke is of the utmost importance to
those whose poverty forces them to use it instead of
coal.

It is supposed that the ten gas companies in and
about the metropolis produce at least 1,400,000
chaldrons of coke, which are distributed to the
poorer classes by vans, one-horse carts, donkey
carts, trucks, and itinerant vendors who carry one,
and in some cases two sacks lashed together on
their backs, from house to house.

The van proprietors are those who, having
capital, contract with the companies at a fixed
rate per chaldron the year through, and supply
the numerous retail shops at the current price,
adding $d, per chaldron for carriage; thus
speculating upon the rise or fiiU of the article, and
in most cases carrying on a very lucrative business.
This class numbers about 100 persons, and are to
be distinguished by the words " coke contractor,"
painted on a showy ground on the exterior of their
handsome well-msde vehicles ; they add to their
ordinary business the occupation of conveying to
their destination the coke that the companies sell
from time to time. These men have generally a
capital, or a reputation for capital, to the extent of
400/. or 500/., and in some cases more, and
they usually enter into their contracts with the
companies in the snmmer, when but small quan-
tities of fuel are required, and the gas-works are
incommoded for want of space to contain the
quantity made. They are consequently able, by
their command of means, to make advantageous
bargains, and several instances are known of men
starting with a wheelbarrow in this calling and
who are now the owners of the dwdlinga in which
they reside, and have goods, vans, and carts
besides.

Another class, to whom may be applied much
that has been said of the van proprietors, are the
possessors of one-horse carts, who in many instances
keep small shops for the sale of greens, coals, &c.
These men are scattered over the whole metro-
polis, but as they do not exclusively obtain their

86

LONDOy LABOUR AND THB LONDON POOR.

li?iog by Tending this article, they do not properly
belong to this portion of the inquiry.

A very niuneroui portion of the diitributon of
coke are the donkey-cart men, who are to be leen
in all the poorer localities with a quantity shot in
the bottom of their cart, and two or three sacks
on the top or fastened nndemeath — for it is of a
light nature — ready to meet the demand, crying
** Coke ! coke ! coke ! " morning, noon, and night.
This they sell as low as 2</. per bushel, coke
having, in consequence of the cheapness of coals,
been sold at the gas-worki by the single sack
as low as 7(£., and although there is here a
teeming contradiction — that of a man selling and
living by the loss — such is not in reality the case.
It should be remembered that a bushel of good
coke will weigh 40 lbs., and that the bushels of
these men rarely ezceeid 25 lbs. ; so that it will
be seen that by this unprincipled mode of dealing
they can seemingly sell for less than they give,
and yet realise a good profit. The two last classes
are those who own a truck or wheelbarrow or are
the fortunate possessors of an athletic frame and
broad shoulders, who roam about near the vicinity
of the gas-works, soliciting custom, obtaining ready
cash if possible, but in most cases leaving one sack
on credit, and obtaining a profit of from 2d., Zd,,
id,, or more. These men are to be seen going
from house to house cleverly regulating their
arrival to such times as when the head of the
funily returns home with his weekly wage, and
in possession of ready cash enough to make a
bargain with the coke contractor. Another &ct
in connection with this class, many of whom are
women, who employ boys to drag or carry their
wares to their customers, is this : when they &il
through any cause, they put their walk up for sale,
and ^d no difficulty to obtain purchasers from
21. to as high as 8/., 10/., and 12/. The street-
sellers of coke number in all not less than 1500
persons, who maybe thus divided : van proprietors,
100 ; single horse carts, 300 ; donkey-cart men,
500; trucks, wheelbarrows, and ''physical force
men," 550 ; and women about 50, who penetrate to
all the densely-crowded districts about town dis-
tributing this useful article ; the major portion of
those who are of anything like sober habiu,
live in comfort ; and in spite of the opinion held
by many, that the consumption of coke is injurious
to health and sight, they carry on a large and
increasing business.

At the present time coke may be purchased at
the gas fjutories at 6«. per chaldron; but in winter
it generally rises to 10s., so that, taking the ave-
rage, 8«., it will be found, that the gas factories of
the metropolis realize no less a sum than 560,000/.
per annum, by the coke produced in the course of
their operations. And As. per chaldron being
considered a fair profit, it will be found, that
the total profit arising from its sale by the various
vendors is 280,000/.

It is impossible to arrive with any degree of
certainty at the actual amount of business done by
each of the above-named classes, and the profits
consequent on that business: by dividing the
above amount equally among all the coke sellers.

it will be found to give 186/. per anniim to Mek
person. But it will be at once seen, tbat the
same rule holds good in the coka tnde that hu
already been explained in oounection with coak:
those possessing vans reaping the laigett amooat
of profit ; the one-horse cart men next ; then the
donkey carts, trucks, and wheelbarrows; and, least
of all, the ** backen," as they are sometiniei eaUed.

Concerning the amount of capital inTetted in
the street-sale of coab it may be eatimatad u
follows : —

If we allow 70/. for each of the 100
vans, it will give ....

20/. for each of the horses

800 caru at 10/. each

300 horses at 10/. each .

500 donkey-carts at 1/. each

500 donkeys at 1/. each .

200 trucks and barrows at 10s. eaeli

making a total of . . .

To this must be added

4800 sacks for the 100 vans at
Zs. 6d. each

3600 sacks for the 300 carU .

3000 „ „ 500 donkey
carts

1652 „ „ 550 tmcki

and backers 288 15

300 ,, ,, 50 women. 52 10

840
680

525 0 0

£18,886 5 0

Which being added to the Talue of vans,
carts, and horses employed in the street-
sale of coals, viz 6,865

gives a capital of

£252,016

employed in the street-sale of coal and
coke.

The profits of both these trades added
together, namely, that on coals . . 43,758
and the profit on coke . . . 280,000

shows a total profit of

£823,758

. £16,000

to be divided among 1710 persons, who compose
the class of itinerant coal and coke Tenders of the
metropolis.

The following statement as to the street-sale of
coke was given by a man in good circumstanceiy
who had been engaged in the business for many
years: —

" I am a native of the south of Ireland. Ucn
nor twenty years ago I came to London. I had
friends here working in a gas factory, and aftber
a time they managed to get me into the work too.
My business was to keep the coals to 'the stoken^
and when they emptied the retorts to wheel the
coke in barrows and empty it on the coke heap.
I worked for four or five years, off and on, at thk
place. I was sometimes put out of work in the ^
summer-time, because they don't want as many i
hands then. There's not near so much gas burned
in summer, and then, of course, it takes leas hands

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

87

to make it Well, at Uut I got to be a itoker ; I had
betther wagea thin, and a couple of pott of beer
in the day. It was dhieadfiil hard work, and as
hot» aye, as if you were in the inside of an oren.
I don't know bow I ever stood it. Be me soul, I
don't know how anybody stands it; it's the difil's
place of all you erer saw in your life, standing
there before diem retorts with a long heavy rake,
poUin out the red-hot coke for the bare life, and
then there's the rake red-hot in your hands, and
the hissin and the bubblin of the wather, and the
sm<^e and the smell — it's fit to melt a man like a
rowl of fresh butther. I wasn't a bit too fond of
ix, at any rate, for it 'ud kill a horse ; so I ses to
the wife, ' I can't stand this much longer, Peggy.'
Well, behold you, Peggy begins to cry and wring
her hands, thinkin we'd starve ; but I knew a
grate dale betther nor that, for I was two or three
times dhrinkin with some of thim that carry the
coke out of the yard in sacks to sell to the poor
people, and they had twice as much money to
spind as me, that was working like a horse from
momin to night I had a pound or two by me,
for I was always savin, and by this time I knew
a grate many people round about ; so oflP I goes,
and asks one and another to take a sack of coke
from me, and bein knoun in the yard, and
standin a dhrop o' dhrink now and thin for the
fillers, I alway got good meestire, and 90 I used
to make four sacks oat of three, and often three
out of two. Well, at last I got tired carryin
SMks on me back all day, and now I know I was
a fool for doin it at all, for it's asier to dbrag a
thmck with five or six sacks than to carry one ;
so I got a second-hand thruck for little or nothin,
and thin I was able to do five times as much
work in half the time. At last, I took a notion
of puttin so much etery Sathurday night in the
savin bank, and faith, sir, that was the lucky
notion for me, although Peggy wouldn't hear of
it at all at all. She swore the bank 'ud be broke,
and said she could keep the goold safer in her
own stockin ; that thim gintlemin in banks were
all a set of blickards, and only desaved the poor
people into givin them their money to keep it thim-
lelves. But in spite of Peggy I put the money in,
and it was well for me that I did so, for in a
ihort time I could count up 30 or 40 guineas
m bank, and whin Peggy saw that the bank
wasn't broke she vras quite satisfied ; so one day
I ses to myself. What the divil's the use of me
hreakjn my heart momin, noon, and night, dhrag-
gin a thruck behind me, whin ever so little a bit
of a ^orse would dhrag ten time as much as I
can 1 so off I set to Smithfield, and bought a
•tout stomp of a horse for 12/. 10«., and thin wint
to a sale and bought an ould cart for little or
Botbin, and in less nor a month I had every
&rthin back again in the bank. Well, afther
this, I made more and more every day, and
fio^n that I paid more for the coke in winther
than in summer, I thought as I had money if I
could only get a place to pat a good lot in summer
to sell in winther it would be a good thing ; so I
begun to look about, and found this house for
>^e, so I bought it out and out It was an ould

house to be sure ; but it's sthrong enough, and dune
up well enough for a poor man — ^besides there's the
yard, and see in that yard there's a hape o'coke for
the winther. I 'm buyin it up now, an it 'ill turn
a nice pinny whin the could weather comes again.
To make a long story short, I needn't call the
king my cousin. I 'm sure any one can do well,
if he likes ; but I don't mane that they can do
well brakin their heart workin ; divil a one that
sticks to work 'ill ever be a hapenny above a
beggar ; and I know if I 'd stock to it myself I 'd
be a grate dale worse off now than the first day,
for I 'm not so young nor near so sthrong as I
was thin, and if I hadn't lift it off in time I 'd
have nothin at all to look to in a few years more
but to ind my days in the workhouse — bad lock
to it"

Or THB SranBTSBLLEBs 07 TAir-Tmir.

Tak TURT is oak bark made into turf after its
virtues have been exhausted in the tan-pits. To
moke it into turf the manufacturers have a mill
which is turned by horse-power, in which they
grind the bark to a considerable degree of fineness,
after which it is shaped by a mould into thin
cakes about six inches square, put out to dry and
harden, and when thoroughly hardened it is fit
for sale and for all the uses for which it is in-
tended.

There is only one place in London or its neigh-
bourhood where there are tan-pits — ^in Bermond-
sey— and there only is the turf made. There are
not more than a dozen persons in London engaged
in the sale of this commodity in the streets, and
they are all of the tribe of the costermongers.
The usual capital necessary for starting in the line
being a donkey and cart, with 9«. or 10«. to pur-
chase a few hundreds of the turf.

There is a tradition extant, even at the present
day, that during the prevalence of the plague in
London the houses where the tan-turf was used
in a great measure escaped that awful visitation ;
and to this moment many people purchase and
bum it in their houses on account of the peculiar
smell, and under the belief that it is efficacious in
repelling infectious diseases from the localities in
which it is used.

The other purposes for which it is used are
for farming a sort of compost or manure for
plants of the heath kind, which delight in a
soil of this description, growing naturally among
mosses and bogs where the peat fuel is obtained.
It is used also by small bakers for heating their
ovens, as preferable for their purposes, and more
economical than any other description of fuel.
Sometimes it is used for burning under coppers ;
and very often for keeping alight during the night,
on account of the slowness of its decomposition
by fire, for a single cake will continue burning
for a whole night, will be found in the morning
completely enveloped in a white ash, which, on
being removed, discovers the live embers in the
centre.

The rate at which the tan turf is sold to the
dealers, at the tan-piU, is firom 64. to 9<l. per bmr

88

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR,

dred cakes. ThoM at 9(2. per hundred are perfect
and unbroken, wkile tkofe at %d, bare been injured
in tome way or other. The quality of the article,
boweyer, remains the same, and by purchasbg
tome of each sort the Tendors are able to make
somewhat more profit, which may be, on an are-
rage, about i\d, per hundred, as they sell it
at Is.

While seeking information on this subject I

obtained the address of a person in T mews,

T square, engaged in the business. Running

out of the square is a narrow street, which, about
mid-way through, leads on the right-hand side to
a narrow alley, at the bottom of which is the
mews, consbting of merely an oblong court,
surrounded by stables of the yery smallest dimen-
sions, not one of them being more than twelve feet
square. Three or four men, in the long waist-
coats and full breeches peculiar to persons en-
gaged among horses, were lounging about, and,
with the exception of the horses, appeared to be
the only inhabitants of the place. On inquiring
of one of the loungers, I was shown a stable in
one comer of the court, the wide door of which
stood open. On entering I found it occupied by
a donkey-cart, containing a couple of hundred
cakes of tan-turf; another old donkey-cart was
turned up opposite, the tailboard resting on the
ground, the shafts pointbg to the ceiling, while a
cock and two or three draggle-tailed hens were
composing themselyes to roost on the front portion
of the cart between the shafts. Within the space
thus inclosed by the two carts lay a donkey and
two dogs, that seemed keeping him company,
and were busily engaged in mumbling and
crunching some old bones. On the wall hung
"Jack's harness." In one comer of the ceiling
was an opening giving access to the place above,
which was reached by means of a long ladder.
On ascending this I found myself in a very small
attic, with a sloping ceiling on both sides. In the
highest part, the middle of the room, it was
not more than six feet high, but at the sides it
was not more than three feet. In this confined
apartment stood a stump bedstead, taking up the
greater portion of the floor. In a comer alongside
the fire-place I noticed what appeared to be a
small tura-up bedstead. A little ricketty deal
table, an old smoke-dried Dutch clock, and a poor
old woman, withered and worn, were the only
other things to be seen in the place. The old
woman had been better off, and, as is not uncom-
mon under such circumstances, she endeavoured
to make her circumstances appear better than
they really were. She made the following state-
ment : —

'*My husband was 23 years selling the
tan turf. There used to be a great deal more
of it sold than there is now ; people don't seem to
think so much of it now, as they once did, but
there are some who still use it. There 's an old
lady in Kentish-town, who must have it regu-
larly ; she bums it on account of the smell, and
has burned it for many years : my husband used
to serve her. There 's an old doctor at Hampstead
rather he wai there, tot he died a few days

ago— he always bought a deal of it, but I don*i
know whether he*bumed it or not; he used to
buy 500 or 600 at a time, he was a yery good
customer, and we miss him now. The gar*
deners buy some of it, for their plants^ they mj
it makes good manure, though you weoldnt
think so to look at it, it 's so hvd and dry. My
husband is dead three years ; we were better eff
when he was alive; he was a yery sober aad
careful man, and never put anything to waste.
My youngest son goes with the cart now; heden't
do as wdl as his fiither, poor little £bUow! he Is
only fourteen years of ap, but he doee veiy well
for a boy of his age. He sometimea travels 80
miles of a day, and can't sell a load — eometunti
not half a load ; and then he comes home ef a
night so foot-sore that you'd pity him. Some*
times he 's not able to stir out, for a day or tws^
but he must do something for a living; there's
nothing to be got by idleness. The cart will held
1000 or 1200, and if he could sell that eveiy
day we 'd do yery well ; it would leave as about
Zt. 6<i. profit, afier keeping the donkey. It
costs 9(2. a day to keep our donkey; he's yonag
yet, but he promises to be a good strong
animal, and I like to keep him well, eren n
I go short myself, for what could we do with-
out himi I believe there are one or two pe^
sons seUing Un-turf who use trucks, but they 'rs
strong; besides they can't do much wita a
tmck, they can't travel as far with a tnd^
as a donkey can, and they can't take as mask
out with them. My son goes of a moning to
Bermondsey for a load, and is back by ~

fast time; from this to Bermondsey is a long
way — then he goes out and travels all round
Kentish-town and Hampstead, and what with
going up one street and down another, by the
time he comes home at night, he don't travd less
than from 25 to 80 miles a day. I haye another
son, the eldest. He used to go with his fiuher
when he was alive ; he vras reared to the bnsinesi^
but after he died he thought it was useless ibr
both to go out with the cart, so he left it to the little
fellow, and now the eldest works among horsea
He don't do much, only gets an odd job now and
then among the ostlers, and earns a shilling now
and then. They 're both good lads, and would do
well if they could ; they do as well as they cao,
and I have a right to be thankful for it."

The poor woman, notwithstanding the extra-
ordinary place in which she lived, and the con-
fined dimensions of her single apartment (I asen>'
tained that the two sons slept in the stump bed-
stead, while she used the tum-up), was neyerthelsss
cleanly in her person and apparel, and superior ta
many respects to persons of the same class, and I
give her statement verbatim, as it corroborstes^ in
almost eyery particular, the statement of the an*
fortunate seller of salt, who is afflicted with a
dranken disorderly wife, and who is also a msn
superior to the people with whom he is compelled
to associate, but who in evident bitteroew of spirit
made this assertion : " Bad as I 'm off now, if I
had only a careful partner, I wouldn't want ftr
anything."

[ LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

89

niog the dogt tliat I have spoken of as
Ji the donkey, there U a curioos story,
is roimdi the donkey firequently met the
id an extraordinary friendthip grew up
the two animala, so that the dog at last
a owner, and followed the donkey in all
la. For some time back she has accom-
im bone, together with her pnppy, and
deep ooaily together during the night,
jng e^eeial care not to hurt the young
^ morning, when about to go out for
woik, it is of no use to expect Jack to
mi bis friends, as he will not budge an
be is humoured in his whim. The puppy,
id, is put into the cart, and the mother
or ber liting along the way; the poor
»ft being able to feed them. The owner
igs came to see them on the day previous
nt

V IBM Stbibt-Sbllibs 07 Salt.

few years after the repeal of the duty on
there were no street-sellers of it It was
d in the time of William III., and during
with Napoleon the impost was I5«. the
or nearly thirty times the cost of the
The ■ " " ' ' '

duty was finally repealed in

When the tax was at the highest, salt
ngled most extensively, and retailed at
i\d. the' pound. A licence to sell it was
SMry. Street salt-selling is therefore a
some twenty years standing. Consider-
rasl consumption of salt, and the trifling
I capital necessary to start in the business,
be expected that the street-sellers would
MTOUS class, but they do not number above
be outside. The reason assigned by a
rmed man was, that in every part of
there are such vast numbers of sbop-
vbo deal in salt

; one-half of those employed in
ilt-selling have donkeys and
1 the rest nse the two-wheeled
if the costermonger, to which
te street sal^sellers, gene-
elong. The value of the
ind cart may be about 2/. 5«.
average, so that 75 of the
possessing donkeys and carts
e a capitu among them equal

an of

£168 15 0

arrows of the remainder are
boat 10s. each, which will

to 87 10 0

11 8 cwt of salt in aday is con-
pod work ; and this, if pur-
t 2«. per cwt, gives for stock-
he ium total of . . . 45 0 0

the amount of capital which
reasonably assumed to be
d in this business is £251

5 0

treet-sellers pay at the rate of 2f. per cwt

for the salt, and retail it at 8 lbs. for \d,, which
leaves 1«. \d. profit on every cwt One day with
another, taking wet and dry, for from the nature
of the article it cannot be hawked in wet weather,
the street-sellers dispose of about 2^ cwt per day,
or 18 tons 15cwt per day for all luuids, which, de-
ducting Sundays, makes 5825 tons in the course
of the year. The profit of Is. Ic2. per cwt amounts
to a yearly aggregate profit of 6810A 8s. id^ or
about 42/. per annum for each person in the trade.

The salt dealers, generally, endeavour to in-
crease their profits by the sale of mustard, and
sometimes by the sale of rock-salt, which is used
for horses ; but in these things they do little, the
most profit they can realise in a day averaging
about id.

' The salt men who merely lue the barrow are
much better off than the donkey-cart men ; the
former are young men, active and strong, well
able to drive their truck or barrow about from one
place to another, and they can thereby save the
original price and subsequent keep of the donkey.
The hitter are in general old men, broken down
and weak, or bids. The daily cost of keeping a
donkey is from 6d, to 9d. ; i wt reckon 7id, as
the average, it will annually amount to lit 8s. Id,
the year, which will reduce the profit of 42/.
to about 80/., and so leave a balance of llA 8s. l<f.
in fiivour of the truck or barrow man.

There are nine or ten pbioes where the street-
sellers purchase the salt : — ^Moore's, at Paddington,
who get their salt by the canal, firom Stafibrdshire;
Welling's, at Battle-bridge ; Baillie, of Thames-
street, &c Great quantities are brought to London
by the different railways. The stree^sellers have
all reguUr beats, and seldom intrude on each
other, though it sometimes happens, especially
when any quarrel occurs among them, that they
oppose and undersell one another in order to secure
the customers.

During my inquiries on this subject, I visited
Church-lane, Bloomsbury, to see a street-seller,
about seven in the evening. Since the alterations
in St Giles's, Church-lane has become one of the
most crowded places in London. The houses,
none of which are hi^h, are all old, time-blackened,
and dilapidated, with shattered window-frames
and broken panes. Stretching across the narrow
street, firom all the upper windows, might be seen
lines crouing and recrossing each other, on which
hung yellow-looking shirts, stockings, women's
caps, and handkerchiefs looking like soiled and
torn paper, and throwing the whole lane into
shade. Beneath this ra^ed canopy, the street
literally swarmed vrith human beings — young and
old, men and women, boys and girls, vrandering
about amidst all kinds of discordant sounds. The
footpaths on both sides of the narrow street were
occupied here and there by groups of men and
boys, some sitting on the flags and others leaning
against the wall, while their feet, in most instances
bore, dabbled in the black channel alongside the
kerb, which being disturbed sent up a sickening
stench. Some of these groups were pUying cards
for money, which laj on the ground near them.
Men and women ai intervals Uiy stretched out in

90

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

sleep on the pathway ; over theyc the pauengen
were obliged to jump ; in some inftances they stood
on their backs as they stepped orer them, and
then the sleeper languidly raised his head, growled
out a drowsy oath, and slept again. Three or four
women, with bloated countenances, blood-shot
eyes, and the veins of their necks swollen and
distended till they resembled strong cords, stag-
gered about violently quarrelling at the top of
their drunken voices.

The street salt-seller — whom I had great dif-
ficulty in finding in such a place — was a man of
about 50, rather sickly in his look. He wore
an old cloth cap without a peak, a sort of
dun-coloured wnistcoat, patched and cobbled, a
strong check shirt, not remarkable for its dean*
liness, and what seemed to mo to be an old pair
of buckskin breeches, with fragments hanging
loose about them like fringes. To the covering of
his feet — I can hardly say shoes— there seemed to
be neither soles nor uppers. Uow they kept on
was a mystery.

In answer to my questions, he made the follow-
ing sutement, in language not to be anticipated
fri)m his dress, or the place in which he resided :
** For many years I lived by the sale of toys, such
as little chairs, tables, and a variety of other little
things which I made myself and sold in the
streets; and I used to make a good deal of money
by them ; I might have done well, but when a
man hasn't got a careful partner, it 's of no use
what he does, he '11 never get on, he may as well
givo it up at once, for the money 'II go out ten
times as fast as he can bring it in. I hadn't the
good fortune to have a careful woman, but one
who, when I wouldn't give her money to waste
and destroy, took out my property and made
money of it to drink ; where a bad example like
timt is set, it 's sure to lie followed ; the good
example is seldom taken, but there 's no fear of
the bad one. You may want to find out where
the evil lies, I tell you it lies in that pint pot, and
in that quart pot, and if it wasn't for so many
pots and so many pints, there wouldn't be half so
much misery as there is. I know that from my own
case. I UHod tu sell toys, but since the foreign
things were let come over, I couldn't nmke any-
thing of them, and was obliged to give them up.
I was forced to do something for a living, for a
half loaf is better than no bread at all, so seeing
two or three selling salt, I took to it myself. I buy
my salt at Moore's wharf, Paddington ; I consider
it the purest; I could get salt 3(/.' or '2d. the cwt.,
or even cheaper, but 1 'd rather have the best A
man 's not ashamed when he knows his articles
are good. Some buy the cheap salt, of course
they moke more profit. We never sell by
measure, always by weight; some of the street
weights, a good many of them, ore slangs, but I
believe they are as honest as many ot the shop-
keepers after all ; every one does the best he can
to cheat everybody else. I go two or three even-
ings in the week, or as often as I want it, to the
wharf for a load. I 'm going there to-night, three
miles out and three miles in. I sell, considering
everything, about 2 cwt a day ; I sold 1 4 to-day,

but to-morrow (Saturday) I '11 lell 3 or 4 cwt,
and perlutps more. I pay 2f. the ewt fi>r it, and
make about Is. a cwt profit on that I sold nz-
penny worth of mustard to-day; it might bring om
in 2d. profit, avary little makei something. If I
wasn't so weak and broke down, I wouldn't
trouble myself with a donkey, it 's to ezpensifB;
I 'd easily manage to drive about all I 'd sell, asd
then I 'd save the expense. It coata me 7d. er
Sd. a day to keep him, besides other thingf. I
got him a set of shoes yesterday, I said I 'd ahot
him first and myself afterwards; ao yoa tee thcn's
other expenses. There 's my son, too, paid off the
other day from the Princt qf WtUes, after a tm
years' voyage, and he came homo without a six*
pence in his pocket He might have done loat*
thing for me, but I couldn't expeot any thing dss
from him after the example that was act to hioL
Even now, bad as I am, I wouldn't want for aay-
thing if I had a careful woman; but she's a
shocking drunkard, and I can do nothing with her."
This poor fellow's mind was so full of his domestic
troubles that he recurred to them again and again,
and was more inclined to talk about what so
nearly concerned himself than on any matter of
business.

Of tub Strikt-Skllebs or Saidl
Two kinds of sand only are sold in the streets,
scouring or floor sand, and bird land lor birds.
In scouring sand the trade is inconiiderable to
what it was, saw-dust having greatly luptf^
seded it in the gin-palace, the tap-room, and the
butcher's shop. Of the supply of sand, a man, who
was working at the time on Hampatead-beath,
gave the following account : — "I *ve been employed
here for five-and-thirty years, nnder 8ir Thonuu
>YiUon. Times are greatly changed, sir; we
usod to huve from 26 to 80 carta a day hawking
sand, and taking six or seven men to fill them
every morning ; besides large quantities whieh
went to brass-lounders, and for denning dentists'
cutlery, for stone-sawing, lead and silver casting,
and such like. This heath, sir, contiuns aboat
every kind of sand, but Sir Thomas won't allow
us to dig it. The greatest number of carts filled
now ia eight or ten a day, which I fill myiei£
Sir Thomas has raised the price from 3<. ^
to 4.<. a load, of about 2^ tons. Bless yon,
sir, some years ago, one might go into SL
Luke's, and sell five or six cart-loads of hooM*
sand a week ; now, a man may roar himielf
hoarse, and not sell a load in a fortnight Ss*^'
dust i3 used in all the public-houses and gio*
palaces. People 's sprung up who don't use UD^
at all ; and many of the old people are too poor to
buy It. The men who get sand here now are old
cu.it'«mer8, who carry it all over the town, 9S»
round Hollo way, Islington, and such parts. Tv^l^
year ago I would have taken here 8/. or 7/. i^ *
morning, to-day I have only taken 9i. ^*J*
weather is greatly against the sale of houfe^>»di
in Wft, dirty weather, the sale is greater."
One street sand-seller gave the following accoon*

of his calling : — .

" I have been in the aaad bnaineM, m» ^'^

lOlSrmS LABOUR AND THB tOHDON POOR.

91

hof, for 40 yeuf. I wftt at it when I was 12
ywn old, and am now 08. I uied to bare two
cam hawking land, bat it wouldn't pay, m I hare
Jait that one jron see there. Hawking aand it a
poor job now. I tend two men with that *ere cart,
aod pay one of 'em 8t. id. and the other St. a day.
Kow, with baeMnoney, 2«. a week, to the man at
the heathy and tnmpike gates, I reckon every load
of sand to cost me 5f. Add to that 6i. 4(1. for
the two man, the wear and tear, and horse's keep
Qttidi to do a horse justice, you cannot in these
map timaa keep him at less than 10s. a weelc,
in dear leasont, it will cost 16«.), and you will
faxi each load of Mnd stands me in a good sum.
8o suppoio we get a guinea a load, you see we
hata no great pull. Then there 's the licence, 8^.
a year. Kany years ago we resisted this, and
gwt Mr. Humphreys to defend us before the roagis-
tfatea at Clenenwell ; but we were ' cast,' several
iMwkefa were fined 10/., and I was brought up
befiiri old Sir Richard Bimie, at Bow-street, and
had to find bail that I would not sell another
bushel of send till I took out a licence. Soon after
that Sir Thomas Wilson shut up the heath from
BB ; ho said he would not haye it cut about any
more, for that a poor animal could not pick up a
crumb without being in danger of breaking its
leg. Thii was just after we took oat our licences,
al^, aa we'd paid dearly for being allowed to
■ell the sand, some of us, and I was one, we waited
upon Sir Thomas, and asked to be allowed to work
out our licences, which was granted, and we have

r! on ever since. My Inen work very hard
their money, sir ; they are up at 8 o'clock
of the morning, and are knocking about the streets,
perhaps till 5 or 6 o'clock in the evening."

The yellow houite-gand is also found at Kings-
land, and at the Kensington Gravel-pits; but at
the latter pkice street-sellers are not supplied.
The sand here is very fine, and mostly disposed
of to plasterers. There is also some of this kind
of sand at Wandsworth. In the streetselling of
houte-sand, there are now not above 30 men
amployedi and few of these trade on their oVn
account. Beckoning the horses and carts em-
ployed in the trade at the same price as our
Gamden-towu informant sets on his stock, we have
20 horses, at 10/. each, and 20 carts, at 3^. each,
with 8 baskets to. each, at 2«. apiece, making
a total of 286/. of capital employed in the carry-
ing machinery of the stree^selling of sand. Al-
lowing 8«. a day for each man, the wages would
amount for 80 men to 27/. weekly; and the ex-
penses for horses' keep, at 10«. a head, would
give, for 20 horses, 10/. weekly, making a total
of 38/. weekly, or an annual expenditure for man
and horse of 2496/. Calculating the sale at a load
per day, for each horse and cart, at 21s. a load,
we have 6678/. annually expended in the pur-
chase of house or floor-sand.

Bird-^and, or the fine and dry sand required
for the use of cage-birds, is now obtained al-
together of a market gardener in Hackney. It
is sold at Sd» the barrow-load; as much being
•hovelled on to a eoster^i barrow "as it will
cany." A good-aisad barrow holds 81 bushdi;

a smaller site, 8 bushels, and the buyer ii also
the shoTeller. •Three-fourths of the quantity con-
veyed by the street-sellers firom Hackney is sold
to the bird-shop keepers at M» for 8 pecka The
remainder is disposed of to sueh customers as
purchase it in the street, or is delivered at private
houses, which receive a regular supply. The
usual charge to the general public is a halfpenny
or a penny for sand to fill any vessel brought to
contidn it. A penny a gallon is perhaps an average
price in this retail trade.

A man, " in a good way of business," disposes
of a barrow-load once a week; the others onee a
fortnight In wet or windy weather great care
is necessary, and much trouble incurred in supply-
ing this sand to the street-sellers, and again in
their vending it in the streets. The street-vendors
are the same men as supply the turf, dtc., for cage-
birds, of whom I have treated, p. 166, vol. i.
They are 40 in number, and although they do not
all supply sand, a matter beyond the strength of
the old and infirm, a few eostermongers convey .a
boirrow-load of sand now and then to the bird-
sellers, and this addition ensures the weekly sup-
ply of 40 barrow-loads. Calculating these at the
wholesale, or bird-dealer's price — 2«. Bd. a barrow
being an average — we find 284/. yearly expended
in this sand. What is vended at 2s. Zd, costs but
8(/. at the wholesale priee; but the profit is
hardly earned considering the labour of wheeling
a heavy barrow of sand for miles, and the trouble
of keeping over night what is unsold during the
day.

Of TBI STBMV-SaLLiBS or Shells.
Thc street-trade in shells presents the characteris-
tics I have before had to notice as regards the
trade in what are not necessaries, or an approach
to necessaries, in contradistinction of what men
must have to eat or wear. Shells, such as the
green snail, ear shell, and others of that class,
though extensively used for inlaying in a variety
of ornamental works, are comparatively of little
value ; for no matter how useful, if shells are only
well known, they are considered of but little im-
portance ; while those which are rarely seen, no
matter how insignificant in appearance, command
extraordinary prices. As an instance I may
mention that on the 28rd of June there was pur-
chased by Mr. Sowerby, shell-dealer, at a public
sale in King-street, Coven t-garden, a small shell
not two inches long, broken and damaged, and
withal what is called a " dead shell," for the sum
of 80 guineas. It was described as the Convt
Olory Mary, and had it only been perfect would
have fetched 100 guineas.

Shells, such as conches, cowries, green snails,
and ear shells (the latter being so called from thehr
resemblance to the human ear), are imported in
large quantities, as parts of cargoes, and are sold
to the large dealers by weight. Conch shells are
sold at 8«. per cwt ; cowries and diams from lOf.
to 12«. per cwt ; the green snail, used for inlaying,
fetches from 1/. to 1/. 10s. per cwt. ; and the ear
shell, on account of its superior quality and rieher
variety of eolours, aa much as 8/. and 6/. per ar*

No. XXZIL

M

LONDON LABOUR AND THB LONDON POOB.

The eoDcbM are ibimd only among the West India
lilandsy and aie uied principally fi>r garden oma-
menta and grotto-work. The others come prin-
cipally from the Indian Ocean and the Ghina seas,
and are used as well for chimney ornaments, as
for inlaying, for the tops of work-tables and other
ornamental liimitnre.

The shells which ara considered of the most
Talue are almost inTariably small, and of an end-
lew Tariety of shape. They are called ** cabinet"
^ells, and are brought from all parts of the world
—land as well as sea — lakes, riyers, and oceans
furnishing specimens to the collection. The Austra-
lian foresu are continually ransacked to bring
to light new Tarieties. I have been informed
that there is not a rirer in England but contabs
Taluable shells; that even in the Thames there
are shells worth from 10s. to 1/. each. I have
been shown a shell of the snail kind, found in
the woods of New HolUnd, and purchased by
a dealer for 2/., and on which he confidently
reckoned to make a considerable profit.

Although " cabinet " shells are collected from
all parts, yet by far the greater number come
firom the Indian Ocean. They are generally col-
lected by the natiyes, who sell them to captains
and mates of vessels trading to those parts, and
Tory often to sailors, all of whom frequently
speculate to a considerable extent in these things,
and have no difikulty in disposing of them as
soon as they arrive in this country, for there is
not a shell dealer in London who has not a regular
staff of persons stationed at Gravesend to board
the homeward-bound ships at the Nore, and some-
times as £sr off as the Downs, for the purpose of
purchasing shells. It usually happens that when
. three or four of these persons meet on board the
same ship, an animated competition takes place, so
that the shells on board are generally bought up long
before the ship arrives at London. Many persons
from this country go out to various parts of the
world for the sole purpose of procuring shells,
and they may be found from the western coast of
Africa to the shores of New South Wales, along
the Persian Gulf, in Ceylon, the Malaccas,
China, and the Islands of the Pacific, where they
employ the natives in dredging the bed of the
ocean, and are by this means continually adding
to the almost innumerable varieties which are
already known.

To show the extraordinary request in which
shells are held in almost every place, while I was
in the shop of Mr. J. C. Jamrach, naturalist, and
agent to the Zoological Society at Amsterdam — one
of the largest dealers in London, and to whom I
am indebted for much valuable information on
this subject — a person, a native of High
Germany, was present He had arrived in Lon-
don the day before, and had purchased on that
day a collection of shells of a low quality for
which he paid Mr. Jamrach 86/. ; to this he
added a few birds. Placing his purchase in a box
furnished with a leather strap, he slung it over
his shoulder, shook hands with Mr. Jamrach, and
departed. Mr. Jamrach informed me that the next
morning he was to start by steam for Botterdam,

then eontinna his Journey up tke Bliiiia to a esr-
tain point, from whence lie was to timvel an fool
from one place to another, till ha cosld diapoaa «£
his commoditiss ; after which he wonld vetun to
London, aa the grsat mart for a fireak anpplj. Ha
was onlT a very poor man, bat there are a great
many others fu better oS, continually taaung badt*
wards and forwards, who are able to pavnasa a
larger stock of shells and birds^ and who, in the
course of their peregrinations, wander thnmgh the
greater part of Gvmany, eztendinff thair «ia»-
sions sometimes through Austria^ the Tyrol, and
the north of Italy. A visit to the nrsmiaaB eC
Mr. Jamrach, Rateliff-higfawaT, or Mr. 8anuid«
Upper Bast Smithfield, would well repay the
curious observer. The firont portion of Mr. JaB-
rach's house is taken up with a wonderful variety
of strange birds that keep up an averlastii^
screaming ; in another portion of the honaa ara
collected confusedly togeUier heaps of nondescript
articles, which might appear to the uninitkted
worth little or nothing, but on which theposaeaser
places great value. In a yard behind the house,
immured in iron cages, are some of the larger
species of birds, and some beautiful varieties of
foreign animals — while in large presses ranged
round the other rooms, and furnished with nu-
merous drawers, are placed his real valoi^lea, the
cabinet shells. The establishment of Mr. Samuel
is equally curious.

In London, the dealers in shells, keeping shops
for the sale of them, amount to no more than
ten ; they are all doing a large business, and ara
men of good capital, which may be proved by the
following quotation from the day-booka of one of
the class for the present year, vis. : —

Shells sold in February . . . £275 0 0

Ditto, ditto, March 471 0 0

Ditto, ditto, April 1889 0 0

Ditto, ditto. May 475 0 0

Total £2610 0 0

Profit on same, February . . . £75 12 0

Ditto, ditto, March 140 0 0

Ditto, ditto, April 823 0 0

Ditto, ditto. May 127 0 0

Total £665 12 0

Besides these there are about 20 private
dealers who do not keep shops, but who never-
theless do a considerable business in this line
among persons at the West End of London. AU
shell dealers add to that occupation the sale of
foreign birds and curiosities.

There is yet another class of persons who seem
to be engaged in the sale of shells, but it is only
seeming. They are dressed as sailors, and appear
at all times to have just come ashore after a long
voyage, as a man usually follows them with that
sort of canvas bag in use among sailors, in which
they stowaway their clothes; the men themselves
go on before carrying a parrot or some rare bird in
one hand, and in the other a large shell. These
men are the *' duffws" of whom I have spoken

LONDON LABOUR AND THB LONDON POOR.

98

in mj aeeoiiDt of the sale of foreign birdf . They
make thelle a more frequent medium for the in-
tiodoetion of their real avocation, ae a shell it
ft hx leia tronbleiome thing either to hawk or
keep bj them than a parrot

I DOW grre a deacription of these men, as general
daffsrsy and from good authority.

** They are known by [the name of ' duffert,* and
bava an exceedingly cunning mode of transacting
their bniinesi. They are all united in some secret
bond; they hare persons also bound to them,
who are skilled in making shawls in imitation of
those imported from China, and who, according to
the terms of their agreement, must not work for
any other persons. The duffers, from time to time,
furnish these persons with designs for shawls, such
as cannot be got in this country, which, when
completed, they (the duffers) conceal about their
persims, and start forward on their travels. They
contrive to gain admission to respectable houses
by means of shells and sometimes of birds, which
they porchase from the regular dealers, but always
those of a low quality ; after which they con-
triTe to introduce the shawls, their real business,
for which they sometimes have realized prices
▼orying from 5t to 20^ In many instances, the
cheat is soon discovered, when the duffers imme-
diately decamp, to make place for a fresh batch,
who have been long enough out of London to
make their frees unknown to their former victims.
These remain till they also find danger threaten
them, when they again start away, and others
immediately take their place. While away from
London, they travel through all parts of the
country, driving a good trade among the coun-
try gentlemen's houses; and sometimes visiting
the seaports, such as Liverpool, Portsmouth, and
Plymouth."

An instance of the skill with which the duffers
sometimes do business, is the following. One of
these persons some time ago came into the shop of
a shell dealer, having with him a beautiful speci-
men of a three-coloured cockatoo, for which he
asked 102. The shell dealer declined the purchase
at that price, saying, that he sold these birids at 4/.
a piece, but offered to give 3/. IOj. for it, which
was at once accepted ; while pocketing the money,
the man remarked that he had paid ten guineas
for that bird. The shell dealer, surprised that so
good a judge should be induced to give so much
more than the value of the bird, was desirous of
hearing further, when the duffer made this state-
ment : — " I went the other day to a gentleman's
house, he was an old officer, where I saw this
bird, and, in order to get introduced, I offered to
purchase it The gentleman said he knew it was
a valuable bird, and couldn't think of taking less
than ten guineas. I then offered to barter for it,
and produced a shawl, for which I asked twenty-
five ffuineas, but offered to take fifteen guineas
and toe bird. This was at length agreed to, and
now, having sold it for Zl, 10«., it makes 19/. 5«.
I got for the shawl, and not a bad day's work
either."

Of shells there are about a million of the com-
moner sorts bought by the London itreet-iellersat

8s. 'the gross. They are retailed at \d, apiece,
or 12s. the gross, when sold separately ; a large
proportion, as is the case vrith many articles of
taste or curiosity rather than of usefidness, being
sold by the London street-folk on country rounds ;
some of these rounds stretch half-way to Bristol
or to Liverpool.

Of tub Eiybr Bxbb-Sellbbs, ok PusL-ltor.
Thxrb is yet another class of itinerant dealers
who, if not traders in the streets, are traders in
what was once termed the silent highway — the
river beer-sellers, or purl-men, as they are more
commonly called. These should strictly have been
included among the sellers of eatables and drink-
ables ; they have, however, been kept distinct,
being a peculiar ckss, and having little in common
vrith the other out-door sellers.

I will begin my account of the river-sellers by
enumerating the numerous classes of labourers,
amounting to many thousands, who get their
living by plying their respective avocations on the
river, and who .constitute the customers of these
men. There are first the sailors on board the
com, coal, and timber ships ; then the '* lumpers,"
or those engaged in discluurging the timber ships ;
the "stevedores," or those engaged in stowing
craft; and the "riggers," or those engaged in
ngging themjjiallast-heavers, ballastrgetters, corn-
porters, coa^l^ppers, watermen and lightermen,
and coal-porters, who, although engaged in carrying
sacks of coal from the barges or ships at the river's
side to the shore, where there are public-houses,
nevertheless, when hard worked and pressed for
time, frequently avail themselves of the presence
of the purl-man to quench their thirst, and to
naval stimulate them to further exertion.

It would be a remarkable circumstance if the
fret of so many persons continually employed in
severe labour, and who, of course, are at times in
want of refreshment, had not called into existence
a class to supply that which was evidently re-
quired ; under one form or the other, therefore,
river-dealers boast of an antiquity as old as the
navel commerce of the country.

The prototype of the river beer-seller of the
present day is the bumboat-mon. Bumboats (or
rather ^a»m-boats, that is to say, the boats of the
harbour, from the German Baunif a haven or bar)
are known in every port where ships are obliged to
anchor at a distance from the shore. They are
stored with a large assortment of articles, such as are
likely to be required by people after a long voyage.
Previously to the formation of the various docks
on the Thames, they were very numerous on the
river, and drove a good trade with the homeward-
bound shipping. But since the docks came into
requisition, and steam-tugs brought the ships
from the mouth of the river to the dock entrance,
their business died away, and they gradually dis-
appeared ; so that a bumboat on the Thames at
the present day would be a sort of curiosity, a
relic of times past.

In former times it was not in the power of any
person who chose to follow the calling of a bum-
boat man on the Thames. The Trinity Com-

94

lONDOir LABOUR AND TEB LOITBON POOIL

puj had the power of gimnting licences for thii
purpoM. Whether they were ri'ttmitied by tome
•pecial ckttM in their charter, or not, from giving
licences indiscriminately, it is difficult to say.
But it is certain that none got a licence but a
sailor — one. who had *'senrcd his country;" and
it was quite common in those days to see an old
fellow with a pair of wooden legs, perhaps blind
of an eye, or wanting an arm, and with a face
mggod as a rock, plying about among the shipping,
accompanied by a boy whose duty it was to carry
the articles to the purchasers on shipboard, and
help in the management of the boat. In the
first or second year of the reign of her present
IdHJesty, howerer, when the original bumboat-
men hnd long degenerated into the mere beer>
sellers, and any one who wished traded in this line
on the river (the Trinity Company having for many
years paid no attention to the matter), an inquiry
took pliice, which resulted in a regulation that
all the beer-sellers or purlmen should thence-
forward be regularly licensed for the river-sale of
beer and spirits from the Watennan's Hall, which
regulation it in force to the present timr.

It appears to have been the practice at some
time or other in this country to infuse wormwood
into beer or ale previous to drinking it, either to
make it sufficiently bitter, or for some medicinal
purpose. This mixture was calleda^aW — why I
know not, but Dailry, the phi^ftlst of the
saventeenth century, so designates it The drink
originally sold on the river was purl, or this
mixture, whence the title, purl-man. Now, how-
ever, the wormwood is unknown ; and what is
sold under the name of purl is beer wnnnod nearly
to boiling heat, and flavoured with gin, sugar,
and ginger. The river-sellers, however, Btill retain
the name, of ^H;7-men, though there is not one of
theni with whom I have conversed that has the
remotest idea of the meaning of it

To set up as a purl-ninn, eomc acquaintance
with the river, and a certain degree of (ikill in
the management of a boat, are absolutely neces-
sary ; ns, from the frequently- crowded state of the
pool, and the rapidity with which the steaniere
pass and repass, twisting and wriggling their way
through craft of every detcription, the unskilful
adventurer would run in continmtl danger of
having his boat crushed like a nutshell. The
purl-men, however, through long practice, are
scarcely inferior to the watermen thentsclves in
the management of their boats ; and they may be
seen at all times easily working their way through
every obstruction, now shooting athwart the bows
of a Dutch galliot or sailing-bargo, then dropping
astern to allow a steam-boat to pass till they nt
length reach the loss troubled waters between the
tiers of shipping.

The first thingrequired to l^ecome a purl-raan is to
procure a licence from the Waterman's Hall, which
costs 35. (id. per annum. The next requisite is
the possession of a boat. The boats used are all
in the form of skitf:*, rather short, but of a good
breadth, and therefore less liable to capsize through
the swell of the steamers, or through any other
cause. Thus equipped he then goes to some of the

small breweries, where be geti twd "^hu," or
small casks of beer, each containing eigbtecu pots;
after this he furnishes himself with a quart or two
of gin from some publican, which he carries in
a tin vessel with a long neck, like a bottle— an
iron or tin vessel to hold the fire, with hdes drilled
all round to admit the air and keep the fuel burn-
ing, and a huge bell, by no means the least im-
portant portion of his fit out Placing his tWe
pins of beer on a frame in the stem of the boal^
the spiles loosened and the brass cocks fitted in,
and with his tin gin bottle close to his hand be-
neath the seat, two or three measures of varioni
sises, a black tin pot fiir heating the beer, and bis
fire pan secured on the bottom of the boat, and
sending up a black smoke, he takes his seat early
in the morning and pulls away from the shore,
resting now and then on his oars, to ring the
heavy bell that announces his approach. Those
on board the vessels requiring refreshment, when
they hear the bell, hail " Purl ahoy ;** in an Instant
the oars are resumed, and the purl-man is qidcUy
alongside the ship.

The bell of the purl-man not unfreqnently per-
forms another very important office. Daring the
winter, when dense fogs settle down on the river,
even the regulor watermen sometimes lose them-
selves, and flounder about bewildered perhaps for
hours. The direction once lost, their shooting is
unheeded or unheard. The purl-man's bell, how-
ever, reaches the ear through the surrounding
gloom, and indicates his position; when near
enough to hear the hail of his customers, he makes
his way unerringly to the spot by now and then
sounding his bell ; this is immediately answered
by another shout, so that in a short time the glare
of his fire may be distinguished as he emerges
from the darkness, and glides noiselessly alongside
the ship where he is wanted.

The amount of capital necessary to start in the
purl line may be as follows : — I have said that the
boats are all'of the skiff kind—generally old ones,
which they patch up and repair at but little cost
They purchase these boats at from 8/. to 6/. each.
If wo take the average of these two sums, the
items will be —

£ s.

d.

Boat .

4 10

0

Pewter measures .

0 5

0

Warming pot

0 1

6

Fire stove .

0 5

0

Gallon can .

0 a

6

Two pins of beer .

0 8

0

Quart of gin

0 2

6

Kugnr and ginger .

0 1

0

Licence

0 8

0

Total £5 19

0

Thus it requires, at the very least, a capital of
6/. to set up as a purl-mnn.

Since the Waterman's U:dl has had the granting
of licences, there have been upwards of HO
issued ; but out of the possessors of these m.my are
dead, some have left for other business, and others
are too old and feeble to follow the occupation

LOJTDON LABOUR AND TEE LONDON POOR.

95

any laag&r, to tliat out of the whola number
than renain only 85 pnrl'men on the rivtr,
and tkaaa aro thus divided : — 28 ply their
trade in what is called " the pool/' that is, from
SzecQtion Dock to Rateliff Cross, among the
eoal'laden skips, and do a tolenble businew
amongst the sailors and the hard-working and
thirsty eoal-whippers ; 8 purl-men follow their
sailing from BxecntioQ Dock to London Bridge,
and sell thsir commodity among the ships loaded
with aom, potatoes, &e. ; and i are known to fre-
quent the variooi reaches below liimehonse Hole,
where the colliers are obliged to lie at times in
seetionsi, waiting till they are sold on the Coal
Bzchange, and aome eren go down the river as
fiur as the ballaat-lighters of the Trinity Company,
for the purpeaa of supplying the ballast-getters.
Tha porl-men cannot sell much to the unfortunate
haliast-heaTers, for they are soffaring^under all
tha bomNTB of an abominable truck system, and
are compelled to take from the publicans about
Wapping and Bhadwell, who are their employers,
large quantities of filthy stuff compounded espe-
eially linr their use, for which they are charged
exorbitant prices, being thus and in a variety of
other wmys merciiessly robbed of their earnings, so
that they and their £smilies are left in a state of
ahnoat utter destitution. One of the purl-men,
whose boat is No. 44, has hoops like those used
by gipsies for pitching their tents; these he &stens
to each side of the boat, over which he draws a
tarred canvas covering, water-proof, and beneath
this ha sleeps the greater part of the year, seldom
going ashore except for the purpose of getting a
fresh supply of liquors for trade, or food for himself.
He generally casts anchor in some unfrequented
nook down the river, where he enjoys all the quiet
of a Thaasf hermit, after the labour of the day.
To obtain the necessary heat during the winter, he
fits a funnel to his fi^-stove to carry away the
smoke, and thus warmed he sleeps away in defiance
of the severest weather.

It appears from the fiwts above given that 210/.
is the gross amount of capital employed in this
business. On an average all the year round
each purl-man sells two ''pins" of beer weekly,
independent of gin; but little gin is thus sold
in the summer, but in the winter a considerable
quantity of it is used in making the purl. The
men poichase the beer at 4s. per pin, and sell it
at id. per pot, which leaves them a profit of 4«. on
the two pins, and, allowing them M. per day profit
on the gin, it gives II. 7s. per week profit to each,
or a total to all hands of 47/. 5t. per week, and a
groM total of 2457/. profit made on the sale of
98,280 gallons of beer, beside gin sold on the
Thames m the course of the year. From this
amount must be deducted 818/. IDs., which is
paid to boys, at the rate of 8s. 6</. per week ; it
being necessary for each purl-man to employ a
lad to take care of the boat while he is on board
the ships serving his customers, or traversing the
tiers. This deduction being made Isavee 61/. 2#.
per annum to each purl-man as the profit on his
yearns trading.

The present race of purl-man, nniika the

weather-beftten tars who in former times alona
were licensed, are generally young men, who
have been in the habit of following some river
employment, and who, either from some accident
having befidlen them in the course of their work,
or from their preferring the easier task of sitting
in their boat and rowing leisurely about to con-
tinuous labour, have started in the line, and ulti-
mately superseded the old river dealers. This is
easily explained. No man labouring on the river
would purchase from a stranger when he knew
that his own fellow-workman was afioat, and wai
prepared to serve him with as good an article;
besides he might not have money, and a stranger
could not be expected to give trust, but his old
acquaintance would make little scruple in doing so.
In this way the customers of the purl-men are
secured ; and many of these people do so much
more than the average amount of business above
stated, that it is no unusual thing to see some
of them, after four or five years on the river,
take a public-house, spring up into the rank of
licensed victuallers, and finally become men of
substance.

I conversed with one who had been a coal-
whipper. He stated that he had met with an
accident while at work which prevented him from
following coal-whipping any longer. He had fallen
from the ship's side into a barffe, and was for a long
time in the nospital. When ne came out he found
he could not work, and had no other prospect
before him but the union. ** I thought I 'd
be by this time toes up in Stepney churchyard,"
he said, "and grinning at the lid of an old coffin."
In this extremity a neighbour, a waterman, who
had long known him, advised him to take to the
purl business, and gave him not only the advice,
but sufficient money to enable him to put it in
practice. The man accordingly got a boat, and
was soon afloat among his old workmates. In
this line he now makes ont a living for himself
and his family, and reckons himself able to clear,
one week with the other, from 18s. to 20s. ** I
should do much better," he said, "if people
would only pay what they owe; butHhere are
some who never think of paying anything." He
has between 10/. and 20/. due to him, and
never expects to get a farthing of it.

The following is the form of licence issued by
the Watermen's Company: —

INCOEPOHATBD 1827.

BUMBOAT.

Height 6 ftet 8\
ioches, 90 year*
of a^, dark
lallow com-

plexion.

id & 3rd Vic
cap. 47, lee. 8S.

I hereby certify that
of , in the parish of

in the county of Middle-
sex, is this day registered in a
^ book of the Company of the Ma*-
ter,' Wardens, and Commonalty of Watermen and
Lightermen of the river Thames, kept for that
purpose, to use, work, or navigau a boat called
a skiff, named , number 9

for the purpose of selling, disposing of, or exposing
for sale to and amongst tha seamen, or othev per^

M

LONDON LABOUR AND TBB LONDON POOR.

•ODi employed in and abont anjr of the tbipe or
TOMeli upon the laid rirer, any liquon, ilopiy or
other articles whatsoever, between London Bridge
and Limehouse Hole ; but the said boat is not to
be used on the said rirer for any other purpose
than the aforesaid.

Waterman's Hall,

Jas. Baittov, CUrh.

Beside the regular purl-men, or, as they may be
called, bumboat-men, there are two or three others
who, perhaps unable to purchase a boat, and take
out the licence, have nevertheless for a number of
years contrived to carry on a traffic in spirits
among the ships in the Thames. Their practice is
to carry a flat tin bottle concealed about their per-
son, with which they go on board the first ship in
a tier, where they are well known by those who
may be there employed. If the seamen wish for
any spirit the river-vendor immediately supplies
it, entering the name of the customers served, as
none of the vendors ever receive, at the time of sale,
any money for what they dispose of; they keep
an account till their customers receive their wages,
when they always contrive to be present, and in
general succeed in getting what is owing to them.
What their profits are it is impossible to tell,
perhaps they may equal those of the regular purl-
man, for they go on board of almost every ship
in the course of the day. When their tin bottle
is empty they go on shore to replenish it, doing so
time after time if necessary.

It is remarkable that although these people are
perfectly well known to every purl* man on the
river, who have seen them day by day, for many
years going on board the various ships, and are

thoroughly cogniflmt of the purpose of ibeir visits,
there has never been any information laid against
them, nor have they beoi in any way interrupted
in theiribusiness.

There is one of these river spirit-sellers who
has pursued the avocation for the greater part of
his life ; he is a native of the south of Ireland,
now very old, and a little shrivelled-ap man.
He may still be seen every day, going from ship
to ship by scrambling over the quarters when
they are lashed together in tiers — a feat sometimes
attended with duiger to the young and strong ;
yet he works his way with the agUity of a man
of 20, gets on board the ship he wants, and
when there, were he not so well known, be
might be thought to be some official sent to take
an* inventory of the contents of the ship, fer be
has at all times an ink-bottle hanging from one of
his coat buttons, a pen stuck over his ear, spec-
tacles on his nose, a book in his hand, and really
has all the appearance of a man determined on doing
business of some sort or other. He possesses a sort
of ubiquity, for go where you will through any part
of the pool you are sure to meet him. He seems
to be expected everywhere ; no one appears to be
surprised at his presence. Captains and mates
pass him by unnoticed and unquestioned. As sud-
denly as he comes does he disappear, to start up in
some other place. His visits are so regular, that
it would scarcely look like being on board ship if

" old D , the whiskey man," as be is called,

did not make his appearance some time during the
day, for he seems to be in some strange way
identified with the river, and with every ship that
frequents it

OF THE NUMBERS, CAPITAL. AND INCOME OF THE STREET-
SELLERS OF SECOND-HAND ARTICLES, LIVE ANIMALS.
MINERAL PRODUCTIONS, ETC.

Thi liawkers of second-hand articles, live animals,
mineral productions, and natural curiosities, form,
as we have seen, Urge important classes of the
street-sellers. According to the fiicts already given,
there appear to be at present in the streets, 90 sel-
lers of metal wares, including the sellers of second-
hand trays and Italian-irons ; SO sellers of old
linen, as wrappers and towelling ; 80 vendors of
second-hand (burnt) linen and calico ; 80 sellers of
curtains ; 30 sellers of carpeting, &c. ; 30 sellers
of bed-tickmg, &c ; 6 sellers of old crockery and
glass ; 25 sellers of old musical instruments ; 6
vendors of second-hand weapons ; 6 sellers of old
curiosities ; 6 vendors of telescopes and pocket
ghisses ; 80 to 40 sellers of other miscellaneous
second-hand articles ; 100 sellers of men's second-
hand clothes ; 80 sellers of old boots and shoes ;
15 vendors of old hats; 50 sellers of women's
second-hand apparel ; 30 vendors of second-hand
bonnets, and 10 sellers of old furs; 116 sellers of
second-hand articles at Smithfield-market ; —
making altogether 725 street-sellers of second-
hand commodities.
But soma of the above trades are of a tem-

porary character only, as in the case of the ven-
dors of old linen towelling or wrappers, carpets,
bed-ticking, &c. — the same persons who sell the
one often selling the others ; the towels and
wrappers, moreover, are offered for sale only on
the Monday and Saturday nights. Assuming^
then, that upwards of 100 or one-sixth of the
above number sell two diflferent second-hand
articles, or are not continually employed at that
department of street-traffic, we find the total num-
ber of street-sellers belonging to this class to be
about 500.

Concerning the number selling live animals in
the streets, there are 50 men vending fancy and
sporting dogs ; 200 sellers and " duffers " of
English birds; 10 sellers of parrots and other
foreign birds ; 3 sellers of birds'-nests, &c ; 20
vendors of squirrels; 6 sellers of leverets and
wild rabbiu ; 35 vendors of gold and silver fish ;
20 vendors of tortoises; and 14 sellers of snails,
frogs, worms, &c ; or, allowing for the temponry
and mixed character of many of these trades, we
may say that there are 200 constantly engaged
in this branch of street-commerce.

LONBOK LABOUR AND TEE WNBON POOR.

97

Then of the ttreet-aellen of mrnenl prodnctioiu
and natonl corioiitiei, there axe 216 Tendon of
coele; 1600 aellers of coke; 14 lellen of tan-
taxf ; 150 Tendon of salt ; 70 eellen of sand ;
26 lellen of shells; or 1960 in all. From Uui
number the sellen of shells most be dedncted, as
the shell-tnde is not a special branch of street-
traffic. We may, therefore^ assert that the nnmber
of people engs^ in this latter cUus of street-
bomieei amonnts to about 1900.

Now, adding all these sums together, we haTe
the following table as to the nombers of indivi-
dnala eompneed in the/rjfdiTision of the London
Btieei-fblk, tie. the street-sellen : —

1. Costermongen (including men,
women, and children engaged in the
nle of i&sh, froit, Tegetables, game,
ponhrr, flowers, ftc) 80,000

2. Street-sellen of "green titoff,"
incfaiding water-cresses, chickweed

and gni'n'sel, turf, &e. 2,000

8. Streetpsellen of eatables and
drinkables 4,000

4. Street-sellen of stationery, lite-
latore, and fine arts 1,000

5. Street-sellen of manufactured
articles of metal, crockery, glass, tex-
tile, chemical, and miscellaneous sub-
•tances 4,000

6. Street-sellen of second-hand
articles, including the sellen of old
metal articles, old glass, old linen, old
dothes, old shoes, &c 500

7. Street-sellen of Uto animals, as
dogs, birds, gold and siWer fish,squir-

reb, loTonts, tortoises, snails, &c. . 200

i, Street-sellen of mineral produo*
tions and natural curiosities, as coals,
eoke, tan-turf, salt, sand, shells, &c. 1,900

ToTAXi NvxBiB or Stbbbt-Sbllbbb 48,640

These numbers, it should be nmembered, are
given nther as an approximation to the truth
than as the absolute fact. It would therefore be
safer to say, making all due allowance for the
temporary and mixed character of many branches
of streetrcommerce, that there are about 40,000
people engaged in selling articles in the streets of
London. I am induct to believe that this is
very near the real nnmber of street-sellers, from
the whoUtaU ntnms of the places where the
street-sellen purchase their goods, and which I
have always made a point of collecting from the
best authorities connected with the Tarious
branches of street-traffic The statistics of the
fish and green markets, the swag-shops, the
old clothes exchange, the bird-dealen, which I
haTo caused to be collected for the firat Ume
in this country, all tend to corrobonte this esti-
mate.

The next fiict to be evolTod is the amount of
capital inTested in the street-sale of Second-hand
Ankles, of LIto Animals, and of Mineral Produc-
tions. And, fint, as to the money employed in
the Second-hand Street-Trade.

The following tables will show the amount of
capital inTested in this branch of street-business.

StreetSeUen qf SecotMutnd Metal Waru.

80 stalls, 5f. each ; 20 barrows, It £ s. d.
each ; stock-money for 50 vendon, at
10#. per head 52 10 0

Streei-SeUen of SteontUhand MeUd Trajfs.

Stock-money for 20 sellers, at 5s.
each 500

StndrStiUrt qf oiher Steond-kand MekU ArtieUt,
at Italian and Fiat Irons.

Stock-money for 20 vendon, at 5s.
each; 20 stalls, at 8s. each. ... 800

StrtO-StlUrt qf Second-hand Linen, <Cv.

Stock-money for 80 Tenders, at 5s.
per head 7 10 0

Street'Sellen qf Second-hand (humt^ Linen and
Calico,

Stock-money for 80 Tendon, at 10s.
each 40 0 0

StreetSelUrt of Seeond^haaid Cwrtaint.

Stock-money for 80 sellen, at 5f.
each 7 10 0

Street-SelUrt qf Second-hand Carpeting, Ftannels,
Stoding-Uge, 4rc.

Stock-money for 80 sellen, at 6s.
each 900

StreetrSeUert qf Second-hand Bedrticking,
Sadting, Fringe, j-c.
Stock-money for 80 sellers, at 4s.
each 600

Street-SdUre qf Second-hand Olatt and Crockery,

6 barrows, 15s. each ; 6 baskets,
1«. 6<2. each ; stock-money for 6 Ten-
don, at 5s. each 6 9 0

Street-SelUre of Seoondrhand MitceUamoue

Artideu
Stock-money for 5 Tendon, at 15s.
each 8 15 0

SlreetrSellere and Duffere qf Second-hand Music.

Stock-money for 25 sellers, at II,
each 25 0 0

Street-Sellers of Second-hand Weapons,
Stock-money for 6 Tenders, at 1/.

each 6 0 0

StreetrSellers qf Second-hand Curiosities,

6 barrows, 15s. each; stock-money
for 6 Tenders, at 15s. per head . . 9 0 0

Street-Sellers qf Second-hand Telescopes and

Poeiet-Qlasses.
Stock-money for 6 Tendon, at 4/.

each 24 0 0

Streei-SelUrs of other Miscdlaneous Articles.

80 stalls, 5s. each; stock-money for
80 seUers, at 15s. each 80 0 0

^^

98

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON FOOSL

StrmUSdUrt rf MttCt Seeond-iumd CfoCiUf.
100 linen bagi, at 2s. eaeh ; stock- £ I. d.
money for 100 fellen^ at 16#. each . 85 0 0
StrtetSellert qf Steond^nd BooU and Shorn.

10 Italia, at 8«. eaeh ; 80 basketa, at
S#. 6d. each; stock-money for 80
seUen, at 10«. each ...... SO 5 0

SlreH-SdUnqfStcond'kand HaU,

80 ironSftwo to each man, at 2t, each;
60 blocks, at 1«. 6<i. per block; stoek-
money for 15 yendors, at lOs. each . 15 0 0

Street-Sellers qf Women's Seeond-ktMd AppareL

Stock-money for 60 sellers, at 10«.
each ; 50 baskets, at 2s. (M. each . 81 5 0

Street-Sdlers qf Sscand-kmnd Bonndt,

10 nmbrellas, at 8«. each ; 80 bas-
kets, at 2s, 6d, each; stock-money
for 80 sellers, at 5s. each .... 12 15 0

Street SelUn rf S§oond-kmnd Furs,

Stock-money for 10 vendors, at
7s.6<<.each 8 15 0

Street'SdUrs of Seeond-kand AriieUa in
SmithfieldmarJteL

80 sellers of harness lots and col-
lars, at an arerage capital of 15s. each ;
6 sellers of saddles and pads, at 15s.
each ; 10 sellers of bits, at 8«. each ; 6
sellers of wheel-springs and trays, at
15«. each ; 6 sellers of boards and
trestles for stalls, at lOf. each ; 20
sellers of barrows, small earu, and
trucks, at 5/. each ; 6 sellers of goat
carriages, at 3/. each ; 6 sellers of
shooting galleries and guns for ditto,
and drums for costers, at I5s. each ;
10 sellers of measures, weights, and
scales, at 25s. each ; 5 sellers of po-
tato cans and roasted-chestnut appa-
ratus, at 5/. each ; 3 sellers of ginger-
beer trucks, at 5/. each ; 6 sellers of
pea-soup cans and pickled-eel kettles,
15j>. each ; 2 sellers of elder- wine
▼essels, at 15s. each. Thus we find
that the arerage number of street-
sellers frequenting Smithfield-market
once a week is 116, and the arerage
capital 217 0 0

Total axouiit of Oapital bx-

LOiraiVO TO STRBET-OLUna Of

Sbcohd-hakd Abticlu .... 621 14

Stbbbt-Sillkbs'ot Litb Arucalb.
StretlrSellers of Dogs.

Stock-moner for 20 sellers (in-
eluding kennels and keep), at 51. 15s.
each seller . . , ' 115 0

Street-Sellers and D%ijf€rs qf Birds (English).

2400 small cages (reckoning 12 to

flM^h iollsr),at64.aMk; ItOOIflBS € $. i.
eagei (allowhig 6 «gas to each lallar),
at 2s. each ; 1800 laisa «gas (avwa-
ghig 0 cages to aaeh salUr), at St. M.
each. Stock-money fw SCO sallen^ at

80s. aaeh 606 0 0

Stred-Sdlen qf Parrots, Se.

20 cages, at 10s. each; itaok-
money for 10 sellait^ at 80s. ea^h • 85 0 0

Stru^MUri qf Bird^-Nmb.

8 hamper baskets^ at 6tf. each • • II

Strosi'SdUn qf Squiwrdi.

Stock-money for 80 Tondors, at 10s.
each 10 0 0

Streei Sellers qf LenrtU, Wiid MMiU, ^

6 baskets, at 2s. each ; stosk-aaMj
for 6 vendors, at fis. each .... 886

Strtet-SdUrs qf Gold and Siinr FUL

85 fUss globes, at 2s. each; 85
small nets, at M. each ; stock-nonay
for 85 Tenders, at 15s. each . . . 10 18 • \

StreehSdUra qf Torioim.

Stock-money for 20 Tandonk at 10s.
each 85 0 0

Stred-SeUirs ^ Snaiis, IVog$, Wmwu, Snatss,
HodgikogSfdtc

14 basketa, at Is. each .... 14 0

Total axoubt or Cinf al m-
LOHGixo to Stbxxt-Sbllxbs or Lnn
ANiMALfl , ... 798 10 9

Stbut-Sbllers of Mixbbal FioDuonon Avx>
Natural Cubxositibb.

Street-Sdlers of CoaU.

80 two-horse vans, at 70^ each ; 100
horses, at 20^. each ; 100 carU, at lOf.
each; 160 horses, at 10/. each; 20
donkey or pony carts, at 1/. each ; 20
donkeys or ponies, at 1/. 10s. each;
210 sets of weights and scales, at
1/. 10s. each; stock-money for 210
vendors, at 21. each 7,485 0 0

Street-SdUn <^ Oohs,

100 Tans, at 70/. each ; 100 horses,
at 20/. each ; 800 carts, at 10ft each ;
800 horses, at 10/. each ; 500 donkey-
carts, at 1/. each ; 500 donkeys, at 1/.
each ; 200 trucks and barrows, at 10s.
each ; 4800 sacks for the 100 Tans, at
8s. ^d. each ; 8600 sacks for the 800
carts ; 8000 sacks for the 500 don-
key carU ; 1652 sacks for the 560
trucks and barrows; 800 sacks for
the 50 women; stock-money for 1500
Tendors, at 1/. per head . . . 19,986 18 0

Stred'SeUers qf Tas^TuKfi
12 donkeys and carts, at 81. aaeh ;

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

90

\ 15«. Mch ; staek-monej £ «. A
.<»•, at lOt. Mch ... 82 10 0

ej8 and cartf, at 21, 6s.
b^rowf, at 10#. each ;
r for 1§Q Tendon, at 6i.

251 6 0

Skr^A-adUn of Sand.
^ at 10/. each ; 20 cartu,
; 60 iMBketo, at 2«. each ;
9 men, at 8i. per day for
OMi fat keep of 20 honef,
r head; estimated itock-
VS sellen, at U, each ; 40
t Ifff. each ; itock-iDonei-
fm-mtn, at \$, 6d oach .320 5 0

StTHiradlm (^ 8MU.
tney &r 70 vendors, at 5f .
IT 10 0

OlFRAL BVLOirQnrO TO

«LiB8 or MmRjLL Pbo-

no. 28,018 2 0

Riv$r-Mkrt rf Purl
,at 4^ 10«. each; 85 leti
^ at 5f . the eet ; 85 warn-
U.dd. each; 85 fire-stovei,
; 85 gallon cans, at 2«. M,
'< pins" of beer, at it. pet

Snarts of gin, at 2«. hd,
5 licences, at Zs, M. ;
f for spies, &e., at li . each 208 5 0

would appear that the groM amoont
belonging to the itiett^eUen may ha

I follows ; —

' stoek-in-trada baloaghig

ogen 25,000 0 0

eet-iellers of green-stuff . 140 0 0

tieetrMllers of eatables

blei 0,000 0 0

reet-sellers of stationery,

ind the fine arte ... 400 0 0

treet-sellers of mann&c-

et. • 2,800 0 0

reet-iellen of second-hand
621 14 0

eet-iellers of live animals 798 10 0

treetHMllers of mineral

I, *e. 28,048 2 0

er^ellen of purl ... 208 5 0

ixouvT ov Oapital bs*

O VHl LOSPOB SVBBST- .

67,028 11 0

ss Talne of the stock in trade of the
reet-sellers may then be estimated at
OOt

k " TAxnroB," or thb Strw-SbuiUS
Df Sboobd-habi) Abtiolbs,
) now to estimata the reeeipts of auh of
nentioned classes.

SfeaSdlen qf Seo9nd-ha%d Udal Warn.

I was told by sereral in this trade it t* d.
that there were 200 old metal seller*
in the streets, but, from the best in-
formation at my command, not more
than 50 appear to ba strictly ser8f(-
sellers, unconnected with shopkeep-
Jng. Estimating a weekly receipt,
per indiyidnal, of Iffi. (half being
profit), the yearly street outky
among this body amounts to • . 1,950 '^ 0 0
StreetrSeUert qf Second-hand Metal^Trmyt, M.

Calcdating that 20 persons take in
the one or two nights' sale 4«. a week
each, on second-hand trays (38 per
cent being the rate of profit), the
street expenditure amounts yearly to 208 0 0
Street-Sellers {^ other Seeondrhand Melai ArMes,
as Italian and Flat Irons, dte^

There are, I am informed, 20 per*
sons selling Italian and flat irons re-
gularly throughout the year in the
streets of London ; each takes upon
an average 6«. weekly, which gives
an annual expenditure of upwards of 812 0 0
Strmt-SeUen qf Seeond-hand Linen, Se.

There are at present 80 men and
women who sell towelling and can-
vas wrappers in the streets on Satur-
day and Monday nights, each taking
in the sale of those articles 9#. per
week, thus giving an annmd outlay

of 702 0 0

Street-Sellers qf Second-hand (ftunU) Linen and
Calico.

The most intelligent man whom I
met with in thia trade calcukted that
there were 80 of these second-hand
street-folk plying their trade two
nights in the week; and that they
took 8«. each weekly, about half of it
being profit ; thus the annual street
expenditure would be • • p . 1,664 0 0
Street-Sellers qf Second-hand Cfuriains.

From the best data at my command
there are 30 individuals who are en-

Siiged in the street-sale of second-
and curtains, and reckoning the
weekly takings of each to be &., we
find the yearly sum spent in the streets
upon second-hand curtains amounts to 890 0 0
Street-Sellers qf Seeand-hand Carpeting, Flemnels,
Stoeking-leffs, Se.
I am informed that the same persons
selling curtains sell also second-hand
carpeting, &e. ; their weekly average
takings appear to be about 6i. each
in the sale of the above artides, thof
we have a yearly oatky ef • . . . 468 0 0
Strett'SeUm qf Second-hand JBed^Ueking,
Sadia^t Fringe, 4fe.
The street-telleri of eortaini, car-

100

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

peting, &c., of whom than an 80, £ $. cL
are alio the street^tellen of bod-tick-
ing, sacking, frioge, &e. Thairweeklj
tanngt for the lale of these artidet
•mount to it, each« Hence we find
that the sum spent yearW in the
ftreets upon the puxchase of bed-tick-
ing, &C., amounts to ^812 0 0

. StreetrSaim qf Seeond-Mand Gtatt and
Croeitry,

Calculating that each of the six
dealers takes 12f. weeklj, with a
profit of 6«. or 7t., we find there is
annually expended in this department
of street-commerce 187 4 0

StreetSeUen qf Seeond*amd Mtteellaimut
ArUeUt,

From the best data I haTe been
able to obtain, it appears that there
are five 8treet4ellers engaged in the
sale of these second-hand articles of
amusement, and the receipts of the
whole are 102. weekly, about half
being profit, thus giving a yearly ex-
penditure of 520 0 0

Street'SdUrt and Dvffurt qf Sieand-hand Mutie.

A broker who was enga^ in this
traffic estimated — and an intelligent
street-seller agreed in the computation
— that, take the year through, at least
25 individuals are regukrly, but few
of them fully, occupied with this
traffic, and that their weekly takings
average 80f. each, or an aggregate
yearly amount of 1950/. The weekly
profits run firom 10«. to 1 6s,, and
sometimes the well-known dealers
clear 4 Of. or 50f. a week, while others
do not take 5#. 1,950 0 0

Slreet-Selltn qf Second-hand Weapwu.
In this traffic it may be estimated,
I am assured, that there are 20 men
engaged, each taking, as an average, 1/.
a week. In some weeks a man may
take 5^ ; in the next month he may
sell no weapons at all. From 80 to
50 per cent, is the usual rate of profit,
and the yearly street outlay on these
second-hand offensive or defensive
weapons is 1,040 0 0

Sired-Sellert qf Second-hand Curiotities,
There are not now more than six
men who carry on this trade apart
from other commerce. Their avenge
takings are 15f. weekly each man,
about two-thirds being profit, or
early 284 0 0

StreetSdlen qf Secondhand TeUtcopes and
PocketrQUuset.

There are only six men at present
engaged in the sale of telescopes and
pocket^glasses^ and their weekly

average takings are 80t. each, giving £ », d,
a yearly expenditure in the streets of 468 0 0

Street'SeUm qf other Sioond-hand MitceUansm
ArticUt,
If we redLonf that there are 80
street-sellers carrjring on a traffic in
second-hand misodhmeons articles,
and that each takes 10«. weekly, we
find the annual outlay in the streets
npon these artidet amounts to . . 780 0 0

Stret^SelUn tf MmCt Secomdrkamd Clotktt,

The street-Mie of men's second-
hand wearing apparel is carried on
principally by the Irish and others,
rrom the best infimnation I can
gather, there appear to be upwards
of 1200 old dothes men buying
left-off apparel in the metropolis,
one-third A whom are Irish. There
are, however, not more than 100 of
these who sdl in the streets the
artides they collect; the aversge-
takings of each of the sdlen are
about 20t. weekly, their trading
being chiefly on the Saturday nights
and Sunday mornings. Their profits
are fimn 50 to 60 per cent Esti-
mating the number m sellers at 100,
and their weekly takings at 20t. each,
we have an annual expenditure of 5,200 0 0

StreetrSdUrt qf Second-hand Booit and Shdtt.

There are at present about 80 in-
dividuals engaged in the street-sale
of second-hand boots and shoes of all
kinds; some take as much as 80it.
weekly, while others do not take
more than half that amount; their
profits being about 50 per cent
Reckoning that the vreekly avenge
takings are 20s. each, we have a
yearly expenditure on second-hand
boots and shoes of 1,560 0 0

Street-Sellers qf Second-hand ffats. •
Throughout the year there are
not more than 15 men constantly
** working " this branch of streel-
traffic. The average weekly gaini
of each are about 10«., and in
order to dear that sum they must
take 20#. Hence the gross gains of
the class will be 890^ per annum,
while the sum yearly expended in the
streets upon second-hand hats will
amount altogether to 780 0 0

Sireet-SeUers qf Women's Second-hand Appetrd.

The number of persons engaged in
the street-sale of women's second-
hand apparel is about 50, each of
whom take, upon an avenge, 15«. per
week ; one-half of this is dear gain.
Thus we find the annual outlay in

THE BONE-GRUBBER.

iFrom a Dtiguerreotifpt &y Bkaro.

LONmN LABOXm AND TEE LONDON POOR,

101

Mli vpmi womfln'f Meond-liand £ $, d,
1 is no leu than .... 1,950 0 0

Stnei'Sellen rf Sheond-hand JSonneUf
tp are at present 30 persons
'■ one-half of whom are Billinexi,
e others street«eller8) who sell
•hand straw and other honnets;
)f these are placed in an nm-

tnxDsd upside down, while
are spread open a wrapper on
>nes. The arerage takings of
ass of st^ee^8ellers are about
eh per week, and their clear gains
>re than one-half, thus givhig a

expenditure of 986 0 0

StreetSelUrt qf Second-hand Furs.
bg fiye months of the year there
manj as 8 or 12 persons who
in in the street-markets on
nj nights, Sunday mornings,
londay nights. The weekly
e takiags of each is about 12«,,

three-fourths of which is ehMur

Beckoning that 10 individuals
piged %0 weeks during the year,
at each of these takes weekly
we find the sua annually
led in the streets on fun

ts to 120 0 0

rSelUrt Iff tk^ondrhand ArticUt in Smiik-

Jield-marht,
I informed, by those who are in
ion to know, that there are sold

arerage every year in Bmith-
larket about 624 sets of hameu,
.per set ; 1560 colUrs, at 2s.
686 padi, at U, each; 1560
I, at 5s. each ; 936 bits, at M.
520 pair of wheels, at 10s. per
624 pair of springs, at 8#. id.
lir; 832 pair of trestles, at
. per pair ; 520 boardi, at 4s.

1820 barrows, at 25s. each;
Dcks, at 50f. each ; 208 trays,
Zd, each ; 1040 small carts, at
ich ; 156 goat«arriages, at 20f.
520 shooting-galleries, at 14s.
812 guns for shooting-galleries,
. each ; 1040 drams for costers,

each; 2080 measures, at Set.

2080 pair of large aoales, at
r pair; 2080 pair of hand-

at 6d. per pair; 80 roasted
Qt-appantns, at 20s. each ; 100
•beer trucks, at 80s.* each ; 20
ties, at 5s. each ; 100 potato-
it 17s. each ; 10 pea-soup cans,
each ; 40 elderwine tosmIs, at
ch; giving a yearly expendi-
10,242 8 8

Sum ov Movbt Avvuallt

XH BT *H1 STBin-SlLUiBS OV

owh-BiMD AanoLis . . . 88,461 1

Stbxbt-Sxllxbs ov Lin Avucais.

atneirSdUrt <tf Dofft (^fi#y PiU),
"* From the best data it appean that £ s. d,
each hawker sells "four or fiye
occasionally in one week in the sum-
mer, when trade's brisk and days
are long, and only two or three
the next week, when trade may be
flat, and during each week in winter,
when there isn't the same chance."
Calculating, then, that seyen dogs are
sold by each hawker in a fortnight,
at an average price of 50s. each
(many fetch 8/., 4^, and 5/.), and sup-
posing that but 20 men are trad-
ing in this line the year throuffh, we
find that no less a sum is yeany ex-
pended in this street-trade than , .9,100 P 0

Strtet-Selltrt of Sporting Dogs,
The amount " turned over " in the
trade in sportine dogs yearly, in Lon-
don, is computed by the best informed
at about . 12,000 0 0

Street-SdUrt and Dnffm ^f Iah MMt,
(EngliA).

There are in the metropolis 200
street-sellers of Bnglish birds, who
may be said to sell among them 7000
linnets, at Zd. each; 8000 bullfinches,
at 2s. 6d. each ; 400 piping bullfinches, #

at 63s. each; 7000 goldfinches, at
9d. each ; 1500 chaffinches, at 2s. 6d,
each ; 700 greenfinches, at Zd. each ;
6000 larks, at Is. each ; 200 nightin-
gales, at Is. each ; 600 redbreasts, at
Is. each ; 3500 thrushes and thrustlet,
at 2s. 6d, each; 1400 blackbirds, at
2s. 6d. each; 1000 canaries, at Is.
each ; 10,000 sparrows, at Id. each ;
1500 starlings, at Is. 6d. each ; 500
magpies and jackdaws, at 9d, each ;
300 redpoles, ai9d. each ; 150 black-
caps, at id. each; 2000 ''dufied,"
birds, at 2s. 6d. each. Thus making
the sum annually expended in the
purchase of birds in the streets,
amount tQ , , ^,624 18 2

Sinti-SelUri of ParroU, Ac.

The number of individuals at pre-
sent hawking parrots and other foreign
birds in the streets is 10, who sell
among them during the year about
500 birds. Beckoning each bird to
sell at 1^, we find the annual outlay
upon parrots bought in the streets to
be 500/. ; addingHo this the sale of
110 Java sparrows and St Helena
birds, as Wax-bills and Bed-beaks at
Is. 6<2. each, we have for the sum
yearly expended in the streets on the
sale of foreign birds ...... 508 6 0

102

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

StTHt'StUert qf Birdi'-NaU.

There an at present only tliree £ t, d,
penoni hawkin^f birds'-neets, Ac, in
the itreeta durmg the aeaion, which
laeta from May to August; theee
itreet^len aell among them 400
nettij at 2i<f. each ; 144 makei, at
Is, 6<L each; 4 hedgehoga, at It. each;
and abont 2i.'a woith of tnaila. This
makes the weeklj income of each
amount to about St. 6(2. during a
period of 12 weeka in the tummer,
and the inm annually expended on
theie articles to come to • ... 15 6 0

StftttrSelUrt tf SqwmU.

For iye months of the year there
are 20 men selling squirrels in the
streets, at from 20 to 50 per cent,
profit, and areiaging a weekly sale of
six each. The average price b firom
2<. to 2«. 6<;. Thus 2400 squirrels
are Tended yearly in the streets, at
a cost to the public of 240 0 0

Slitet-SelUrt qf Leverttt,' Wild RahbUt, Ac
Durinff the year there are about
six individuals exposing for sale in the
streets young hares and wild rabbits.
These persons sell among them 800
leverets, at If. M. each; and 400
young wild-rabbits, at 4(^ each, giving
a yearly outlay of 29 8 4

% StnetSelUrt qf Gold and Silver Fish.
If we calculate, in order to allow
for the cessation of the trade during the
winter, and often in the summer when
costermongering is at its best, that
but 85 gold-fish sellers hawk in the
streets and that for but half a year,
each selling six dozen weekly, at 12s,
the doten, we find 65,520 fish sold,
at an outlay of . 8,276 0 0

StrwtSelUrs qf Tortoises,
Bstimating the number of indivi-
duals selling tortoises to be 20, and
the number of tortoises sold to be
10,000, at an average price ef Sd,
each, we find there is expended yearly
npon these creatures upwards of . . 888 6 8

Street-Sellers qf Snails, Frogs, «fcc.
There are 14 snail gatherers, and
they, on an average, gather six docen
quarts each in a year, which supplies
a total of 12,096 quarU of snails.
The labourers in the gardens, I am
informed, gather somewhat more than
an equal quantity, the greater part
being sold to the bird-shops; so that
altogether the supply of snails for
the caged thrushes and blackbirds of
London is about two millions and a
half. Computing them at 24,000
quarts, and at 2(i. a quart, the annual

outlay is 200(. Besides mafls, then £\ $. d,
are collected aimnally 500 firogs and 18
toads, at let. each, giving a yeariy
expenditure of 202 8 2

ToTAii, OK Gbom ^ Taxivqi,** of vhb
STBnr-SBLUEBS OF LiTi An*
XALB 28,868 16 4

Ivoom, OK " TAnvos," of ram Stbbk-Sbuiu
or MiimAL PiODVonon ▲«]> NAfoiiL

CUKIOSXTRB.

Strtt-MUn qf CoaJU.

The number of individuals engaged
in the street-sale of coals is 210;
these distribute 2940 ttms of coals
weekly, giving an annual trade of
152,880 tons, at IL per ton, and con-
sequently a yearly expenditore by
the poor of 152,880 0 0

Street-SelUrs qf Coh.

The number of individuals engaged
in the streetiale of coke is 1500;
and the total quantity of eoke sold
annually in the streets is eompated
at about 1,400,000 chaldrons. These
are purchased at the gas foctories at
an average price of %s. per chaldron.
Beckonbg that this is sold at 4s. per
chaldron for profit, we find that tha
total gains of the whole daas amount *
to 280,000/. per annum, and their
gross annual takings to • . . 840,000 0 0

SlreetrSelUrs qf Tan-Tmf.
The number of tan-turf sellers in
the metropolis is estimated at 14;
each of these dispose of, upon an
average, 20,000 per week, during
the year; selling them at It. per
hundred, and rMlising a profit of
Hd, for each hundred. This makes
the annual outlay in the street-sale of
the above article amount to • • 7,280 0 0

Street-Sellers qf Salt

There are at present 150 indi-
viduals hawking nit in the several
streets of London; each of these pay
at the rate of 2s, per cwt for the salt,
and retail it at 8 lbs. for Id., which
leaves Is. Id, profit on every cwt
One day with another, wet and dry,
each of the street-sellers disposes of
about 2| cwt., or 18 tons 15 cwt.
per day for all hands, and this, de-
ducting Sundays, makes 5868 tons
15 cwt. in the course of the year.
The profit of Is. Id, per cwt.
amonnu to a yearly aggregate profit
of 68572. 16«. 8d., or about 421.
per annum for each person in the
trade; while the sum annually ex-
pended upon this article in the streets
amounts to 18,095 6 8

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR,

103

Street SeOert qf Sand. £ $, d.

Galcalating the aale at a load of
and per day, for each hone and cart,
al 21«. per load, we find the sum
annually expended in honse-sand
to he 6578^ ; adding to thia the mm
of 284^ ipent jearlj in bird-aand,
the total atreet-expenditore ia . 6,807 0 0
StredrSeUen qf ShelU,

There are about 50 indiTidnala
difpoaing of shelli at different periods
of the year. These sell among them
1,000,000 at Idf. each, giving an
annual expenditure of ... . 4,166 18 4

"Wet "fish .... £1,177,200 £

DryfisH 127,000

Shell fish 156,600

Fish of all kinds

Vegetables . . ,
Green fruit . . ,
Dry fruit . . . .

£1,460,800

£292.400

882,200

1,000

Total, ox Oboss Takinos, or thi
STasR-SiLLxiui or Mihx&al Pro-
Dcronovs ahd Natttkal Curi-
08ITI1S £1,029,228 19 7

River^Uers qf Purl.
There are at present 85 men follow-
ng the trade of purl-selling on the
rirer Thames to colliers. The weekly
profits of this claaa amount to 117L 5j.
per week, and yearly to 6097/., while
their annual takings is ... . 8,190 0 0

Now, adding together the above and the other
foregone results, we arrive at the following esti-
Bate as to the amount of money annually expended
en the several articles purchased in the streets of
the metropolia.

Fruit and Vegetables ....

Game, poultry, rabbits, &c. • . .

Flowers, roots, Ac

Watercresses

Chickweed, gru'nsel, and turf for birds

Batables and drinkables

Stationery, literature, and fine arts .

Manufactured articles

Second-hand articles

Live animals {including doge, hirde,

and goldfish)

Mineral productions (as coals, coke,

salt, sand, dt-c.)

Total Sum ixpkvdbd upoh thi

YABIOUS ArTIOLIS TXirDXD BT THI

625,600

80,000
14.800
18,900
14,570

208,100
88,400

188,200
29,900

29,800

1,022,700

Stbxxt-Sellxrs

. £8,716,270

Hence it appears that the street-sellers, of all
ages, in the metropolis are about forty thousand
in number — their stock-in-trade is worth about
sixty thousand pounds — and their gross annual
takings or receipts amount to no less than three
millions and a half sterling.

OF THE STREET-BUYERS.

Thi persons who traverse the streets, or call
periodically at certain pUices to purchase articles
which are usually sold at the door or within the
house, are — according to the division I Uid down
in the first number of this work — STRSix-BirrBRS.
The largest, and, in every respect, the most
icmarkable body of these traders, are the buyers
of old clothes, and of them I shall speak sepa-
rately, devoting at the same time some space to
the Stbiet-Jsw8. It will also be necessary to
give a brief account of the Jews generally, for
they are still a peculiar race, and street and shop-
trading among them are in many respects closely
blended.

The principal things bought by the itinerant
purchasers consist of waste-paper, hare and rabbit
skina, old umbrellas and parasols, bottles and glass,
broken metal, rags, dripping, grease, bones, tea-
leaves, and old clothes.

With the exception of the buyers of waste-paper,
among whom are many active, energetic, and
intdligent men, the street-buyers are of the lower
sort, iMth as to means and intelligence. The only
further exception, perhaps, which I need notice
here is, that among some umbrella-buyers, there is
considenble smartness, and sometimes, in the re-
pair or renewal of the ribs, &&, a slight degree
ofskiU. The other street-purchasers— -foch as the

bare-skin and old metal and rag buyers, are often
old and infirm people of both sexes, of whom —
perhaps by reason of their infirmities — not a few
have been in the trade from their childhood, and
are as well known by sight in their respective
rounds, as was the " long-remembered beggar " in
former times.

It is usually the lot of a poor person who has
been driven to the streets, or has adopted such a
life when an adult, to sell trifling things — such
as are light to carry and require a small outlay —
in advanced age. Old men and women totter about
offering lucifer- matches, boot and stay-Uioes, penny
memorandum books, and such like. But the elder
portion of the street-folk I have now to speak of
do not sell, but buy. The street-seller commends
his wares, their cheapness, and excellence. The
same sort of man, when a buyer, depreciates every-
thing offered to him, in order to ensure a cheaper
bar{^, while many of the things thus obtained
find their way into street-sale, and are then as
much commended for cheapness and goodness, as
if they were the stock-in-trade of an acute slop
advertisement-monger, and this is done sometimes
by the very man who, when a buyer, condemned
them as utteriy valueless. But this is common to
all trades.

101

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

Or THE Street-Butebs of Raos, Brokkh
Mktal, Bottles, Glass, A5d Bohbs.

I CLASS all these articles under one head, for, on
inquiry, I find no individual supporting himself
by the trading in any one of them. I shall,
therefore, describe the buyers of rags, brtken
metal, bottles, glass, and bones, as a body of street-
traders, but take the articles in which they traffic
seriatim, pointing out in what degree they are, or
have been, wholly or partially, the staple of several
distinct callings.

The traders in these things are not unpros-
perous men. The poor creatures who may be
seen picking up rags in the street ara " street-
finders," and not buyers. It is the same with the
poor old men who may be seen bending under
an unsavoury sack of bones. The bones hare
been found, or have been given for charity, and
are not purchued. One feeble old man whom I
met with, his eyes fixed on tlie middle of the
carriage-way in the Old St. rancras-road, and with
whom I had some conversation, told me that the
best friend he had in the world was a gentleman
who lived in alargrhousenearthe Ilegent's-park,
and gave him the bones which his dogs had done
with 1 '' If I can only see hisself, sir," said the
old man, " ho 's sure to give me any coppers he
has in his coat-pocket, and that's a very great
thing to a poor man like me. 0, yes, 1 '11 buy
bones, if I have any ha'pence, nther than go
without them ; but I pick them up, or have them
given to nc mostly."

The street-buyers, who are only buyers, hare
barrows, sometimes even carts with donkeys, and,
as they themselves describe it, they ** buy every-
thing." These men are little seen in London, for
they " work " the more secluded courts, streets,
and alleys, when in town ; but their most fre-
quented rounds are the poorer parts of the
populous suburbs. There are many in Croydon,
Woolwich, Greenwich, and Deptford. " It 's no
use," a man who had been in the trade said to
me, " such as us calling at fine houses to know if
they 'vc any old keys to sell ! No, we trades
with the poor." Often, however, they deal with
the servants of the wealthy; and their usual
mode of business in sich cases is to leave a bill
at the house a few hours previous to their visit
This document has frequently the royal arms at
the head of it, and asserts that the " firm" hu
been established since the year — «-, which is
seldom lew than half a century. The band-bill
usually consists of a short preface as to the in-
creased demand for rags on the part of the paper-
makers, and this is followed by a liberal offer to
give the very best prices for any old linen, or old
metal, bottles, rope, stair-rods, locks, keys, drip-
ping, carpeting, &c., " in fact, no rubbish or lumber,
however worthless, will be refused ; " and gene-
rally concludes with a request that this "bill"
may be shown to the mistress of the house and
preserved, as it will be called for in a couple of
hours.

The papers are delivered by one of the ** firm,"
who marks on the door a sign indicative of the

houses at which the bill has been taken in, and
the probable reception there of the gentleman who
is to follow him. The road uken is also pointed
by marks before explained, see vol. L pp. 218 and
247. These men are residents in all quarters
within 20 miles of London, being most nume-
rous in the pUces at no great distance from the
Thames. They work their way from their sub-
urban residences to Loudon, which, of coarse, is
the mart, or " exchange," for their wares. The
reason why the suburbs are preferred is that in
those parts the possessors of such things as hrokei
metal, &c., cannot so readily resort to a marine-
store dealer's as they can in town. I am in-
formed, however, that the shops of the marine-
storo men arc on the increase in the more densety-
peopled suburbs ; still the dwellings of the pear
are often widely scattered in those parts, and few
will go a mile to sell any old thing. They wsit
in preference, unless Tery needy, for the wiiit of
the street-buyer.

A good many years ago— perhaps until 80 yesn
back — ragtf and especially white and good liaen
rags, were among the things most aeiuoasly in-
quired for by street-buyers, and then 8<{. a poond
was a price readily paid. Subsequently the paper
manufacturers brought to great and economicsl
perfection the process of boiling ngs in We and
bleaching them with chlorine, so Uiat colour becsme
less a desideratum. A few years after the peace
of 1815, moreover, the foreign trade in ngs in-
creased rapidly. At the present time, abont ISOO
tons of woollen rags, and upwards of 10,000 tons
of linen rags, are imported yearly. These 10,000
tons give us but a vague notion of the real
amount. I may therefore mention that, when
reduced to a more definite quantity, they show a
totil of no less than twenty-two millions four
hundred thousand pounds. The woollen rsgs
are imported the most largely from Hamburg and
Bremen, the price being from 6/. to 17^ the ton.
Linen mgs, which average nearly 20(. the ton, srs
imported from the same places, and from sevcnl
Italizui ports, more especially those in Sicily*
Among these ports are Palermo, Messina, Anooas,
Leghorn, and Trieste (the Trieste rags being gar
thored in Hungary). The value of the rags aa-
nually brought to this country is no leas tbsa
200,000/. What the native rags may be worth,
there are no fiicts on which to ground an estimate;
but supposing each person of the 20,000,000
in Great Britain to produce one pound of lafi
annually, then the rags of this country may be
valued at very nearly the same price aa the foreip
ones, so that the gross Talue of the ngs of Oresft
Britain imported and produced at home, wonM,iB
such a case, amount to 400,0002. From Fia&ce,
Belgium, Holland, Spain, and other continental
kingdoms, the exportation of ngs is prohibited,
nor can so bulky and low-priced a commodity be
smuggled to advantage.

Of this large sum of rags, which is independent
of what is collected in the United Kingdom, ths
Americans are purchasers on an extensive scale.
The wear of cotton is almost unknown in many
parts of Italy, Germany, and Hiugnry ; and ai>

LONDOir LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

106

iliboagh the linen !n nw ii coatw and, compared
to the Lriih, Scotch, or English, rudely mano-
fiKtuedy the foreign mgi an generally linen, and
Acrefere are preferred at the paper milli. The
ttRe^buye^ in thia country, however, make leu
diitinction than ever, as regards price, between
Udoi and cotton ragt.

The linen rag-buying is still prosecuted ezten-
flvdy by itinerant " gatherers" in the country, and
in the further neighbourhoods of London, but the
collection is not to the extent it was formerly.
The price is lower, and, owbg to the foreign trade,
the demand is less urgent ; so common, too, is now
the wear of cotton, and so much smaller that of
linen, that many people will not sell linen rags, but
reserve tbem for use in case of cuts and wounds,
sr for giving to their poor neighbours on any such
emergency. This was done doubtlessly to as
ireaty or to a greater extent, in the old times, but
Unen ragi were more plentiful then, for cotton
ahirting was not woven to the perfection seen at
present, and many good country housewives spun
their own linen sheetings and shirtings.

A Btree^buyer of the class I have described,

ipon presenting himself at any house, offers to buy

ngSy broken metal, or gloss, and for rags especially

there is ofken a serious bargaining, and sometimes,

I was told by an itinerant street-seller, who had

been an ear- witness, a little joking not of the most

delicate kind. For coloured rags these men give

yU a pound, or Id, for three pounds ; for inferior

white rags ^d. a pound, and up to l\d. ; for the

best, 2d. the pound. It is common, howe?er, and

even more common, I am assured, among roasters

I of the old rag and bottle shops, than among street-

I boyers, to announce 2d, or 8(^, or even as much

i BsM., for the bat rags, but, somehow or other, the

' ngs taken for sale to those buyers never are of

the best. To offer Gd, a pound for rags is ridicu-

I Ions, bnt such an offer may be seen at some rng-

I shops, the figure 6, perhaps, crowning a {tainting

\ of a large plum-pudding, as a representation of

what may be a Christmas result, merely from the

I thrifty preservation of rags, grease, and dripping.

Some of the street-buyers, when working the

! rabnrbs or the country, attach a similar ** illus-

i tration" to their barrows or carts. I saw tho

I Winter placard of one of these men, which he

' was reserving for a country excursion as far as

Eochester, "when the plum-pudding time was

aeoming." In this pictorial advertisement a man

snd woman, very florid and fnll-fnccd, were on

the point of enjoying n huge plum-pudding, the

nan flourishing a large knife, and looking very

hospitable. On a scroll which issued from his

mouth were the words : " From our nigs 1 The

best prices given by , of London."

The woman in like manner exclaimed : " From
dripping and house fnt ! The best prices given

by , of London."

This man told me that at some times, both in
town and country, he did not buy a pound of rags
in a week. He had heard the old hands in the
trade say, that 20 or 80 years back they cnuld
"gather" (the word generally used for buying) twice
■nd three times as many rags as ot present. My

formant attributed this change to two causes,
depending more upon what he had heard from
experienced street-buyers than upon his own
knowledge. At one time it was common for a
mistreM to allow her maid-servant to "keep a
ng-bag," in which all refiise linen, &c., was col-
lected for sale for the servant's behoof; a privilege
now rarely accorded. The other cause was that
working-people's wives had less money at their com-
mand now than they had formerly, so that instead
of gathering a good heap for the man who called
on them periodically, they ran to a marine store-
shop and sold them by one, two, and three penny-
worths at a time. This related to all the things
in the stree^buy6r's trade, as well as to rags.

** 1 've known this trade ten yean or so," said
my informant, " I was a costermonger before that,
and I work coster-work now in the summer, and
buy things in the winter. Before Christmas is the
best time for second-hand trade. When I set out
on a country round — and I 've gone as far as
Guildford and Maidstone, and 8t. Alban's— I lays
in as great a stock of glass and crocks as I can
nuse money for, or as my donkey or pony — I *ve
had both, but I 'm working a ass now — can drag
without distressing him. I swops my crocks for
anythink in the second-hand way, and when I 've
got through them I buys outriglit, and so works
my way back to London. I bring back what I 've
bought in the crates and hampers I 've had to
pack the crocks in. The first year as I started I got
hold of a few very tidy ngs, coloured things
mostly. The Jew I sold 'em to when I got home
again gave me more than I expected. 0, lord no,
not more than I asked i He told me, too, that he 'd
buy any more I might have, as they was wanted
at some town not very far off, where there was a
call for tbem for patching quilts. I haven't heard
of a call for any that way since. I get less and
less rags every year, I think. Well, I can't say
what I got last year ; perhaps about two stone.
No, none of them was woollen. They're things
OS people 's seldom satisfied with the price for, is
rags. I 've bought muslin window curtains or
frocks as was worn, and good for nothink but rags,
but there always seems such a lot, and they weighs
so light and comes to so little, that there 's sure
to be grumbling. I 've sometimes bought a lot of
old clothes, by the lump, or I 've swopped crocks
for them, and among them there 's frequently been
things as the Jew in Fetticoat-Une, what I
sells them to, has put o' one side as rags. If
I 'd offered to give rag prices, them as I got 'em
of would have been offended, and have thought I
wanted to cheat. When you get a lot at one go,
and 'specially if it 's for crocks, you must make
the best of tbem. This for that, and t'other for
t'other. I stay at the beer-shops and little inns
in the country. Some of the landlords looks very shy
at one, if you 're a stranger, acausc, if the police
detectives is after anythink, they go as hawkera,
or barrowmen, or sumethink that way." [This
statement as to the police is correct ; but tho man
did not know how it came to his knowledge ; he
had " heard of it," he believed.] " 1 've very
seldom slept in a common lodging-house. I'd

106

LONDOir LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

nther sleep on my barrow." [I have before had
occaiion to remark the arertion of the coster-
monger class to sleep in low lodging-houses.
These men, almost always, and from the necessi-
ties of their calling, have rooms of their own in
London ; so that, 1 presume, they hate to sleep
xn public, as the accommodation for repose in
many a lodging-house may very well be called. At
any rate the costermongers, of all classes of street-
sellers, when on their country excursions, resort
the least*to the lodging-houses.] " The last round
I had in the country, as fiur as Heading and Pang-
bourne, I was away about five weeks, I think,
and came back a better man by a pound ; that
was all. I mean I had 80 shillings' worth of
things to start with, and when I 'd got back,
and turned my rags, and old metal, and things
into money, I had 50<. To be sure Jenny (the
ass) and me lived well all the time, and I bought
a pair of half-boots and a pair of stockings at
Beading, so it weren't so bad. Yes, sir, there 's
nothing I likes better than a turn into the
country. It does one's health good, if it don't
turn out so well for profits as it might"

My informant, the rag-dealer, belonged to the
best order of costcrmongers ; one proof of this was
in the evident care which he had bestowed on
Jenny, his donkey. There were no loose hairs on
her hide, and her harness was clean and whole,
and 1 observed after a pause to transact business on
his round, that the animal held her head towards
her master to be scratched, and was petted with a
mouthful of green grass and clover, which the
costermonger had in a comer of his vehicle.

Tailor* cuUingt, which consist of cloth, satin,
lining materials, fustian, waistcoatings, silk, &c.,
are among the things which the street-buyers are
the most anxious to become possessed of on a
country round ; for, as will be easily understood
by those who have road the accounts before given
of the Old Clothes Exchange, and of Petticoat
and Rosemary lanes, they are avaiUble for many
purposes in London.

Drettmaktrt cuttinys are also a portion of the
street-buyer's country tralhc, but to no great ex-
tent, and hnrdly ever, I am told, unless the street-
buyer, which is not often the case, be accompanied
on his round by his wife. In town, tailor's cut-
tings are usually sold to the piece- brokers, who
call or send men round to the shops or ^rork-
shops for the purpose of buying them, and it is
the same with the dressmaker's cuttings.

Old metalf or broken mdalf for I heard one
appellation used as frequently as the other, is
bought by the same description of traders. This
trade, however, is prosecuted in town by the
street-buyers more largely than in the country, and
so differs from the rag business. The carriage of
old iron bolts and bars is exceedingly cumbersome ;
nor can metal be packed or stowed away like old
clothes or rags. This makes the street-buyer
indifferent as to the collecting of what I heard
one of them call " country iron." By " metal "
the street-folk often mean copper (most especially),
brass, or pewter, in contradistinction to the cheaper
substances of iron or lead. Ln the country they are

most anxious to buy " metal ;** whereas, in town,
they as readily porehasa "iron." When the
street-buyers give merely the worth of any metal
by weight to be disposed of, in order to be rs-
melted, or re-wrought in some manner, by the
manu&ctnrers, the following are the aversge
prices : — Copper, 6d, per lb. ; pewter, Sd. ; brasi^
5d.; iron, 6 lbs. for Id., and 8 Iba. for %d. (a
smaller quantity than 6 Iba. is seldom booght) ;
and Id. and 1 4^ per lb. for lead. Old nne is note
metal which " comes in the way " of the itieet-
buyer, nor — as one of them told me with a hagb
—old silver. Tin is never bought by weight la
the streets.

It must be understood that the pricea I hafi
mentioned are those given for old or brokca
metal, valueless unless for re-working. When sa
old metal article is still avaihible, or may hs
easily made available, for the use for which it
was designed, the street-purchase is by ''ths
piece," rather than the weight.

The broken pans, scuttles, kettles, &e., cea-
cerning one of the uses of which I have qnoted
Mr. Babbage, in page 6 of the present volome, ss
to the conversion of these worn-out vessels ints
the light and japanned edffings, or clasps, calkd
" clamps," or " dips," by the trunk-makers, and
used to protect or strengthen the comers of boxes
and packing-cases, are purchased sometimes by
the street-buyers, but fall more properly under the
head of what constitutes a portion of the stock-in-
trade of the street-finder. They are not bought
by weight, but so much for the pan, perhaps se
much along with other things; a halfpenny, a
penny, or occasionally two-pence, and often only
a farthing, or three pans for a penny. The uses
for these things which the street-buyers have mors
especially in view, are not those mentioned by Mr.
Babbnge (the trunk clamps), but the convenioa
of them into the " iron shovels," or strong dust-
pans sold in the streets. One street artisan sap-
ports himself and his family by the making of das^
pans from such grimy old vessels.

As in the result of my inquir}' among the street-
sellers of old metal, I am of opinion that the street-
bnvers also are not generally mixed up with the
receipt of stolen goods. That they may be so to
some extent is probable enough ; in the same pie*
portion, perhaps, as highly respectable tiadesmea
have been known to buy the goods of firandulent
bankrupts, and others. The street-buyers are
low itinerants, seen regularly by the police and
easy to be traced, and therefore, for one reason,
cautious. In one of my inquiries among the
young thieves and pickpockets in the low lodg-
ing-houses, I heard frequent accounts of their
selling the metal goods they stole, to ''fences,"
and in one particular instance, to the mistietf
of a lodging-house, who had conveniences for the
melting of pewter pots (called ** cats and kittens "
by the young thieves, according to the sise of
the vessels), but I never heard them speak of any
i connection, or indeed any transactions, with street*
' folk.

Among the things purchased in great quantities
by the itreet-buyers of old metal are keys. Tbs

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

107

» bought are of twetj size, are gene-
■wy rutty, and present every form of
rtnn^ from the simplest to the most
c waids. On my inquiring how such
ler of keys without locks came to be of-
or street-sale, I was informed that there
iiUL duplicate or triplicate keys, to one lock,
It in ides of household furniture, for in-

tbore were often numbers of odd keys
iboBt the premises and sold '' in a lump ;"
Ids were onen spoiled and unsaleable, wear-

Isng before the keys. Twopence a doien is
al fbee for a dozen "mixed keys," to a
mffs. Bolts are also freely bought by the
•^Je, as are holdfiuts, bed-keys, and screws,
rerjthing,"! was told, '* which some one or
Diflng the poor is always a^wanting."
ttla old man, who had been many years a
nyer, gave me an account of his purchases
M and ^losi; This man had been a soldier
foath ; had known, as he said, " many ups
•wns;" and oecasionally wheels a bsnow,
bat larger and shallower than those used
eons, frMU which he Tends iron and tin

sneh as cheap gridirons, stands for hand-
lai^panl^ dripping trays, Sec. As he sold
vans, he offand to buy, or swop for,, any
hand eommodities. ^ As to the bottle and
dying, sir," he said, " it 's dead and buried

streets, and in the country too. I've

the day when I Ve cleared 2(. in a
tf buying old things in a country round.
mg was that ago, do you say, sirl Why
I twenty years; yes, more than twenty.

'd hardly pick up odd glass in the street."
Had imperfect glass wares ''odd glass."]
donH know what 's brought about such a
, but OTerything changes. I can't say
ig about the duty on glass. No, I neyer
y duty on my glass ; it ain't likely. I buy
^, certainly I do, but I think if I depended
ahonld be wishing myself in the Bast Injes
tather than such a poor consam of a busi-

I n roe if I shooldn 't The last glass

1 I made about two months back, down
mse-way, and about the Commercial-road,
«d 7<2. by; and then I had to wheel

bought — ^it was chiefly bottles — about fiye
It'f a trade would starve a cat, the buying
|1as8. I never bought glau by weight, but
leard of some giving a hal^nny and a
a pound. I always bought by the piece :

mdQtenny to a shilling (but that's long
or a bottle ; and farthings and halfpennies,
her and sometimes lower, for wine and other
as was chipped or cracked, or damaged, for
aid be sold in them days. People's got proud
frney that's one thing, and must have every-
ap. O, I do middling : I live by one thing or
md when I die there '11 just be enough to
e old man." [This is the first street-trader
met with who made such a statement as to
provided for his interment, though I have
these men occasionally express repugnance
though ta of being buried by the pansh.] " I

daughter, that's all my fiunily now; she

does well as a laundress, and is a real good sort ;
I have my dinner with her every Sunday. She 's
a widow without any young ones. I often go
to church, both with my daughter and by mysdf,
on Sunday evenings. It does one good. I'm
fond of the music and singing too. The sermon I
can very seldom make anything of, as I can't hear
well if any one's a good way off me when he's
saying anythink. I buy a little old metal some-
times, but it 's coming to be all up with street
glass-people; everybody seems to run with their
things to the rsg-and-bottle-shope."

The same body of traders buy also M tacking,
earpeHftff, and moreen bed-curtains and window-
hangingtj but the trade in them i« sufficiently
described in my account of the buying of rags, for
it is carried on in the same way, so much per
pound (Id, or l^d. or 2d,), or so much for the lot.

Of Bonet 1 have already spoken. They are
bought by any street-collector with a cart, on
his round in town, at a halfpenny a pound, or
three pounds for a penny ; but it is a trade, on
account of the awkwardness of carriage, little
cared for by the regular street-buyers. Men, con-
nected with some bone-grinding-mill, go round
with a horse and cart to the knackers and
butchers to collect bones; but this is a portion,
not of street, but of the mill-owner's, business.
These bones are ground for manure, which is ex-
tensively used by the agriculturists, having been
first introduced in Yorkshire and Lincolnshire
about do years ago. The importation of bones is
now very great ; more than three times as much
as it was 20 years back. The value of the foreign
bones imported is estimated at upwards of 800,000/.
yearly. They are brought from South America (along
with hides), from Germany, HolLind, and Belgium.

The men who most care to collect bones in the
streets of London are old and infirm, and they
barter toys for them with poor children ; for those
children sometimes gather bones in the streeu and
put them on one side, or get them from dustholes,
for the sake of exchanging them for a plaything;
or, indeed, for selling them to any shopkeeper, and
many of the rag-and-bottle- tradesmen buy bones.
The toys most used for this barter are paper
"wind-mills." These toy-barterers, when they
have a few pence, will boy bones of children
or any others, if they cannot become possessed of
them otherwise; but the carriage of the bones is a
great obstacle to much being done in this buaincM.

In the regular way of street-bu3ring, such as I
have described it, there are about 100 men in London
and the suburbs. Some buy only during a portion
of the year, and none perhaps (except in the way
of barter) the year round. They are chiefly of the
costermonger class, some of the street-buyers how-
ever, have been carmen's servants, or connected
with trades in which they had the care of a horse
and cart, and so became habituated to a street-life.

There are still many other ways in which the
commerce in refuse and the second-hand street-trade
is supplied. As the windmill-seller for bones, so will
the puppetehow man for old bottles or broken
table-spoons, or almost any old trifle, allow children
to regale their eyes on the beauties of his exhibition.

108

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOH

The tnda ezpenditun of tht itreet-lmyfn it k
not easy to eitiiiuite. Tbeir calling if to miied
with lolling and bartering, that veryprobablr not
ono among them can t^l what he ezpendi in
buyiiiff, as a leparate bimnch of hit bonneia. If
100 men expend I6t. eaeh weekly, in the pa^
ehase of rage, old metel, Ac, and if thia trade be
proiecnted for SO weeks of the year, we find
2250/. so expended. The profits of the buyers
range from 20 to 100 per cent

Of TBI " RAO-lVD-BoTTLt," IVD TBI " HaBIIII-

Btorx," Bbopb.
The principal purchasers of any refuse or
worn-out articles are the proprietors of the rag-
and-bottle-shops. Some of these men make
a good deal of money, and not unfrequently
unite with the busineu the letting out of vans
for the conveyance of furniture, or for pleasure
excursioni, to such places as Hampton Court.
The stench in these shops is positively sickening.
Here in a small apartment may be a pile of rags,
a sack -full of bones, the many varieties of grease
and " kitchen-stuff,'' corrupting an atmosphere
which, even without such accompaniments, would
be too close. The windows are often crowded with
bottles, which exclude the light; while the floor
and shelves are thick with grease and dirt The
inmates seem unconscious of this foulness, — and
ono comparatively wealthy roan, who showed me
his horses, the stable being like a drawing-room
compared to his shop, in speaking of the many
deaths among his children, could not conjecture
to what cause it could be owing. This indiffer-
ence to dirt and stench is the more remarkable,
as many of the shopkeepers have been gentlemen's
servants, and were therefire once accustomed to
cleanliness and order. The door-posts and win-
dows of the rag-and-bottle-shops are often closely
placarded, and the front of the house is sometimes
one gluriug colour, blue or red ; so that the place
may be at once recognised, eyen by the illiterate,
as the ** red house," or the " blue house." If
these men are not exactly street-buyers, they are
stteet-billers, continimlly distributing hand-bills,
but more especially before Christmas. The more
aristocratic, however, now send round cards, and
to the following purport : —
No.- ^^ *^ No.-

THE HOUSE IS 'S

RAQ, BUTTLE, AND KITCHEN STUFF
WAKEIIOUSE,

STREKT, TOWN,

Where you can obtain Gold and Silver to any amount.
ESTABLISHED .

THE HIGHEST PRICE GIVEN
For all the undermentioned articles, vis :—

Wax and Sperm Pieces
Kitchen Stuff, dec.
Wine & Beer Bottles
Eau de Cologne, Soda

Water
Doctor*' Bottles, Ac.
White Linen Ram
Bonn, Phials, & Broken

Old Copper, Brass, Pew-
ter, Ace.
Lead, Iron, Zinc, Steel,

dtc., drc.
Old Horse Hair, Mat-
tresses. &c.
Old Books, Waste Paper,

Ac.

Flint Glass All kinds of Coloured

Ra^s

The utmost Tslue gtren for all kinds of Wearing

Apparel.

Furniture and Lumber of every description bought, and

fiiU talue given at his Miscellaneous Warehouse.

Articles sent for.

Boma contoot thenselfei with wndinff httd-
bills to tht honsoi in their neighbourhood whi^ .
tmuiT of tho cheap printers keof in type, w tlMt
an alteration in the name and addmi ii all wUeh
is neceaitrj for any euitomer.

I heard that luspicionB were enterlMnid tliat It
waa to some of these traders that the fiwilitili
with which lerrants could dispoae of tMr piUM^
inga night be attributed, and that a etniv tSAm
spoon might enlumee the weight and prite
of liitehen-stuft It ii not peiidning to mj
present subject to enter into the oonaideimtion af
such a matter ; and I might not hare alladfd ts
it, bad not I found the r^rnlv atreetrbuyen ted
of expressing an opmion of the indifferent htOMtf
of this body of traders; but my readers m^
have remarked how readily the street-people hare,
on several occasions, justified (aa they leea ts
think) their own delinquencies by quoting whil
they declared were as great and aa freqneflt
delinquencies on the part of shopkeepers: "I
know very well/ said an intelligent street irilir
on one occasion, "that two wrongs can new
make a right ; but tricks that shopkeepers prastiM
to grow rich upon we must practise, just as they
do, to live at all As long as they give shsrt
weight and short measure, die f tnets can't kslp
doing the same."

The raff-and-bottle and the saartnt^store sAojN
are in many instances but difllerent names for tif
same description of business. The chief distiuftisn
appears to be this : the marine^tore ahopkeepsn
(proper) do not meddle with what ia a very prift*
cipal object of traffic with the rag-and-bottls oibb,
the purchase of dripping, as well as of every kind
of refuse in the way of fot or grease. The nurine-
store man, too, is more miscellaneous in hii
wares thun his contemporary of the rag-and-bottls*
store, OS the former will purchase any of ths
smaller articles of household furniture, old tssr
caddies, knife-boxes, lire-irons, books, picturei^
draughts and backgammon boards, bird-cagti^
Dutch clocks, cups and saucers, tools and brashes.
The-rag-and-bottle tradesman will readily pv*
chase any of these things to be disposed of SI
old metal or waste-paper, but his brother trades*
man buys them to be re-sold and re-used for ths
purposes for which they were originally mani'
facturedt When furniture, however, is the staple
of one of these second-hand storehouses, tbt
proprietor is a furniture-broker, and not a msrioS'
store dealer. If, again, the dealer in these stoits
confine his business to the purchase of old meial%
for instance, he is classed as an old metal dsaUr,
collecting it or buying it of collectors, for sale to
iron-founders, coppersmiths, brass-founders, uA
plumbers. In perhaps the majority of instiness
there is little or no distinction between the estt-
blishments I have spoken of. The doilif bnsinsii
is common to both, but most common to the marine*
store dealer, and of it I shall speak afterwards.

These shops are exceedingly numerous. Pf
haps in the poorer and smaller streets they ars
more numerous even than the chandlers* or the
beer-iellers' places. At the comer of a ibbiU

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

aiUwi, both in town and the nearer fuhorba, will
frequently be foond the chandler's shop, lor the
ale of small quantitiet of cheese, bacon, groceries,
Ac, to the poor. Lower down maj be seen the
bserseller*s; and in the same street there is certain
te be one nig-and-bottle or marine-store shop, rery
often two, and not unfirequently another in some
adjacent court.

I was referred to the owner of a marine-itore
iliop, as to a respectable man, keeping a store of the
bsft class. Here the counter, or table, or whatever
it is to be called, for it was somewhat nonde-
Kript, by an ingenious contrivance conld be poshed
OBt into the street, so that in bad weather the
goods which were at other times exposed in the
street conld be drawn inside without trouble.
The glass frames of the window were removable,
and were placed on one side in the shop, for in
the summer an open casement seemed to be
preferred. This is one of the remaining old trade
customs still seen in London ; for previously to
the ^;reat fire in 1666, and the subsequent re-
building of the city, shops with open casements,
aud protected from the weather by overhanging
eaves, w by a sloping wooden roof, were general

The honie I visited was an old one, and abounded
in closets and recesses. The fire-phice, which
spparently had been large, was removed, and the
ipaGe was occupied with a mass of old iron of every
kiod ; all this was destined for the furnace of
the iroD-fonnder, wrought iron being preferred for
MTcnl of the requirements of that trade. A
chest or range of very old drawers, with defaced
or woni-ont labels— once a grocer's or a chemist's
—was stuffed, in every drawer, with old horse-
shoe nails (valuable for steel manufiicturers), and
hoEM and donkey shoes ; brass knobs ; glass
Btoppen; small bottles (among them a number
of tiM cheap cast "hartshorn bottles"); broken
pieesf of bnas and copper; small tools (such as
skocaaken* and harness-makers' awls), punches,
giadets, i^ane-iroos, hammer heads, &c ; odd do-
miaoei, dice, and bsckgammon-men ; lock escut-
cheeosy keys, and the smaller sort of locks, espe-
cially padlocks; in fine, any small thing which
could be stowed away in such a place.

In ont eomer of the shop had been thrown,
the evening before, a mass of old iron, then just
bought. It consisted of a number of screws of
different lengths and substance ; of broken bars
and raila; of the odds and ends of the cogged
wheels of machinery, broken up or worn out; of
odd-Jookii^ snikes, and rings, and links; all
heaped iogBmer and scarcely distinguishable.
These thii^ had all to be assorted; some to
be sold lor f»4ue in their then form ; the others to
be sold that they might be melted and cast into
other fatma. Hm floor was intricate with hampers
of bottles ; heaps of old boou and shoes ; old
desks and work-boxes; pictures (all modern)
with and without frames ; waste-paper, the most
of it of quarto, and some laiger sized, soiled or
ton, and stmng closely together in weights of
from 2 to Tibs.; and a fire-proof safe, stufitKl
vith flU fringes, tassels, and other upholstery
goods^ wwn and diseoloored. The miscellaneous

109

were carried ont into the street, and ranged
by the door-posts as well as in front of the house.
In some small ont-houses in the yard were piles
of old iron and tin pans, and of the broken or
separate parts of harness.

From the proprietor of this establishment I had
the following account : —

" I 've been in the business more than a dozen
yean. Before that, I was an auctioneer's, and then
a furniture broker's, porter. I wasn't brought up to
any regular trade, but just to jobbing about, and
a bad trade it is, as all trades is that ain't regular
employ for a man. I had some money when my
fiitber died — he kept a chandler's shop— and I
bought a marine." [An elliptical form of speech
among these traders.] "I gave 10^ for the stock,
and 51, for entrance and good-will, and agreed
to pay what rents and rates was duo. It was a
smallish stock then, for the business had been
neglected, but I have no reason to be torry for
my bargain, though it might have been bettor.
There 's lots taken in about good-wills, but perhaps
not so many in my way of business, because wc 're
rather ' fly to a dodge.' It 's a confined sort of life,
but there 's no help for that. Why, ns to my way
of trade, you 'd be surprised, what dilFcrent sorts
of people come to my shop. I don't mean the
regular hands ; but the chance comers. I 'vo had
men dressed like gentlemen— and no doubt they
was respectable when thej was sober — bring two
or three books, or a nice cigar case, or anythink
that don't show in their pockets, and say, when as
drunk as blazes, ' Give me what you can for this;
I want it sold for a particular purpose.' That par- -
ticular purpose was more drink, I should say; and
I 've known the same men come back in less than
a week, and buy what they 'd sold me at a little
extra, and be glad if I had it by me still. 0, we
sees a deal of things in this way of life. Yes,
poor people run to such as me. I 've known them
como with such things as teapots, and old hair
mattresses, and flock beds, and t/u'n, I 'm &ure
they 're hard up — reduced for a meal. I don't
like buying big things like mattresses, though I do
purchase 'em sometimes. Some of these sellers are
as keen as Jews at a bargain ; others seem only
anxious to get rid of the tliini^s and have hold of
some bit of money anyhow. Yes, sic, I 've known
their hands tremble to receive the money, and
mostly the women's. They haven't been used to
it, I know, when that's the case. Perhaps they
comes to sell to me what the pawns won't tike in,
and what they wouldn't like to be seen selling to
any of the men that goes about buying things in
the street.

** Why, I 've bought cverythink ; at sales by
auction there's often 'lots' made up of difTcr-
ent things, and they goes for very little. I
buy of people, too, that come to me, and of the
re^ar hands that supply such shops as mine. I
sell retail, and I Si'll to hawkers. I sell to
anybody, for gentlemen '11 come into my shop to
buy anythink that 's took their fancy in passing.
Yes, I 've bought old oil paintings. I 've heard
of some being bought by people in my way ns
have turned out stuimers, and tvos sold for a

No. XXXIII.

H

110

LOSDOX LABOUR AND THE LOXDOy POOR.

hundred p'^iinds or more, nnd cost, pcrhapsi, half-
n-crown f»r only a sliilling. I nover experienced
Fiich a tliinir niyst'lf. There '* a good deal of gammon
ab iut it. Well, it'* liaidly possible to mj anything
about a scale of prices. I give 2d. for an old tin
or meUil teapot, or an nld saucepan, and some-
times, two days ofter I *ve bought such a thing,
I 'vc sold it for 37. to the man or woman I 'vc
bo'.!;;ht it of, I 11 sell cheaper to them than to any-
body else, because they come to me in two ways —
both as sellers and buyers. For pictures I've given
from 3c^. to Is. I foncy they 're among the last
things some sorts of pjor people, which is a bit
fancijful, parts with. I 'tc bought them of
bawkers, but often I refuse them, as they're giren
more th.in I could get Pictures requires a judge.
Some brought to me wns published by newspapers
and tliem sort of peo]»!e. Waste-paper I buy as
it comes. I c.in't read very much, and don't un-
dorstind about books. I take the backs off and
weighs them, and gives Id., and l\d.f and 2d.
a pound, nnd there 's on end. I sell them at
about J'/, a pound profit, or soinetimei less, to men
at wo c^lls 'waste' men. It's a poor part of
our bu^iues9, but the books and paper takes up
little rnoin, and then it's clean and can bo stowed
anywhere, and is a sure sale. Well, the people
as sells * waste' to me is not such as can read, I
think; Idon't know what they is; perhaps they 're
such as obtains possession cf the books and what-
not after the death of old folks, and gets them
nnt of the way as quick as they can. I know
nothink about what they arc. Last week, a man
in black — he didn't seem rich — came into my
shop and looked at some old books, and said 'Have
you »ny black lead!' He didn't speak plain, and
I could hardly catch him. I said, ' No, sir, I don't
sell black load, but you '11 get it at No. *27,' but
ho answered, ' Not black load, but black letter,'
sp'.-aking very pointed. I said, 'No,' and I
haven't a notion what he meant.

" Metal (copper) that I give 5c/. or 5\d. for,
I can sell to the merchants from {j^d. to Sd. the
pound. It's no great trade, for they'll often
throw things out of the lot and Fay they 're not
meUil. Sometimes, it would hardly be a farthing
in a shilling, if it waf n't for the draught in the
scales. When we buys metal, we don't notice the
quarters of the pounds ; all undtT a quarter goes
for nothink. When we buys iron, all under half
pounds counts nothink. So when we buys by the
pound, and sells by the hundredweight, there's a
little help from this, which we calls the draught.

'' Glass bottles of all qualities I buys at three
for a halfpenny, and sometimes four, up to 2d. a-
piece for 'good stouts' (bottled porter vessels), but
very seldom indeed 2'/., unless it's something very
prime nnd big like the old quarts (quart bottles). I
seldom meddles with decanters. It 's very few
decanters ps is offered to me, either little or big,
and I 'm shy of them when they are. There 's
such a change in glass. Them as buys in the
streets brings me next to nothing now to buy;
they both brought and bought a lot ten year back
and later. I never was in the street- trade in
second-hand, but it 's not what it was. I sell in

the streets, when I put things ontside^ and know
all abont the trade.

" It ain't a fortniglit back since a smart female
servant, in slap-ap bhick, sold me a basket-fall of
doctor's bottles. I knew her master, and be hada*t
been buried a week I»efore she come to me, and
she said, ' missus is gUd to get rid of them, for thej
makes her cry.' They often say their missusses
sends things, and that they 're not on no aeeoont
to take less than so much. That 's true at times,
and at times it ain't. I gives from lIcC to d<2, a
dozen for good new bottles. I 'm Mm I can*t
say w^hnt I give for other odds and ends ; jost at
they 're good, bad, or indifferent. It's a queer trade.
Well, I pay my way, but I don't know what I clear
a week — about 2f, I dare say, but then there 's
rent, rates, and taxes to pay, and other expenses."

The Dully system is peculLir to the mg^
and-bottle man, as well as to the marine-ators
dealer. The name is derived from the black
wooden doll, in white apparel, which generally
hangs dangling over the door of the marine-store
shops, or of the " rag-and-bottles," but more fre-
quently tho last-mentioned. This type of the
busineu is sometimes swung abovo their doors faj
those who are not dolly-shop keepers. The dolly-
shops are essentially pawn-shops, and pawn-shops
for the very poorest There are many arfcidci
which the regular pawnbrokers decline to accept
as pledges. Among these things are blankets, mgs^
clocks, flock-beds, common pictures, "translated*
boots, mended trowsers, kettles, saucepans^ trayi^
&c. Such things are usually styled " lumber." A
poor person driven to the necessity of raising a
few pence, nnd unwilling to part finally with his
lumber, goes to the dolly-man, and for the merest
trifle advanced, deposits one or other of the articles
I have mentioned, or something similar. For an
advance of 2d. or Zd., a halfpenny a week is
charged, but the charge is the same if the pledge
be redeemed next day. If the interest be paid at
the week's end, another l(i. is occasionally advanced,
and no extra charge exacted for interest If the
interest be not paid at the week or fortnight's end,
the article is forfeited, and is sold at a larse profit
by the dolly-shop man. For id. or M, advanced,
the weekly interest is Id. ; for 9<f. it is 1 ^d. ;
for If. it is 2d., and 2d, on each It. np to 5m.,
beyond which sum the "dolly" will rarely go; in
iiACt, ho will rarely advance as much. Two poor
Irish flower girls, whom I saw in the course of my
inquiry into that part of street-tntfHc, had in the
winter very often to pledge the rug nnder which
they slept at a dolly-shop in the morning for 6(/.»
in order to provide themselves with stock-money
to buy forced violets, and had to redeem it on
their return in the evening, when they could, ibr
7(/. Thus G</. a week was sometimes paid for a
daily advance of that sum. Some of theae "iiliek^
pawnbrokers even give tickets.

This incidental mention of what is really an
immense trade, as regards the number of pledges,
is all that is necessary under the present head of
inquiry, but I purpose entering into tliis btaaeh
of tho subject fully and minutely when I eonM to
treat of the chiss of " distributors."

"TT —

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

Ill

The inifMu to which the poor are subject are
podtirely monitrous. A halfpenny a day interest
on a loan of 2c{. is at the rate of 7280 per cent,
per annum !

Of TUB BuTxns op KitcdesStcpf, Greasx,

A5D DrIPPIKO.

Tnis body of traders cannot be classed as street-
buyers, so thnt only a brief account is here neces-
sary. The buyers are not now chance people,
itincmnt on any round, as at one period they
were to a great extent, but they are the proprietors
of the rag and bottle and marine-store shops, or
those they employ.

In this business there has been a considerable
change. Until of late years women, often wear-
ing Buspicionsly large cloaks and carrying baskets,
rentored into perhaps every area in London, and
asked for the cook at every house where they
thought a cook might be kept, and this often at
early morning. If the well-cloaked woman was
known, business could be trans^ictcd without
delay : if she were a stranger, she recommended
herself by offering very liberal terms for " kitchen-
Btaff." The cook's, or kitchen-maid's, or servant-
of-«ll-work*a "perquisites," were then generally
disposed of to these collectors, some of whom were
charwomen in the houses they resorted to for the
purchase of the kitchen-stuff. They were often
satisfied to purchase the dripping, &c., by the
lamp, estimating the weight and the value by the
eye. In this traffic was frequently mixed up a
good deal of pilfering, directly or indirectly. Silver
spoons were thus disposed of. Candles, purposely
broken and crushed, were often )tart of the grease;
in the dripping, butter occasionally added to the
weight ; in the " stock " (the remains of meat
boiled down for the making of soup) were some-
times portions of excellent meat fresh from the
joints which had been carved at table; and among
the broken bread, might be frequently seen small
loayes, unbroken.

There is no doubt that this mode of traffic by
Jtinenuit charwomen, &c., is still carried on, but
to a much smaller extent than formerly. The
cook*s perquisites are in many cases sold imder
the inspection of the mistress, according to agree-
ment ; or taken to the shop by the cook or some
fellow-servant ; or else sent for by the shopkeeper.
This is done to check the confidential, direct, and
imroediute trade-intercourse between merely two
individuals!, the buyer and seller, by making the
transaction more open and regular. I did not hear
of any persons who merely purchase the kitchen-
■tuff, as Btreel-buYers, and sell it at once to the
tallow-melter or the soap-boiler ; it appears all to
find ita way to the shops I have described, even
when bought by charwomen ; while the shop-
keepers tend for it or receive it in the way I
have aUted, so that there is but little of street
XnMk in the matter.

Oae of these shopkeepers told me that in this
tnding, as fiv as his own opinion went, there was
as Bneh trickery as ever, and that many gentle-
ftdk yuetly nuMe up their minds to submit to it,
' ~ ochen^ he said, " kept the house in hot

water ** by resisting it I found, howeTer, the
general opinion to be, that when servants could
only dispose of these things to known people, the
responsibility of the buyer as well as the seller
was increased, and acted as a preventive check.

The price for kitchen-stuff is \d. and \\d, the
pound ; for dripping— used by the poor as a sub-
stitute for butter— 3^(/. to bd.

Of the Stbket-Buters of Ha&e and
Babbit Skins.
TnESB buyers are for the most part poor, old, or
infirm people, and I am informed that the majority
have been in some street business, and often as
buyers, all their lives. Besides having derived
this information from well-informed persons, I may
point out that this is but a reasonable view of the
case. If a mechanic, a labourer, or a gentleman's
servant, resorts to the streets for his bread, or
because ho is of a vagrant " turn," he does not
become a buyer, but a ttUa-. Street-selling is the
easier process. It is easy for a man to ascer-
tain that oysters, for example, are sold wholesale
at Billingsgnte, and if he buy a bushel (as in
the present summer) fur 5«., it is not difficult
to find out how many he can afford for ''a penny
a lot," But the street-buyer must not only know
what to give, for hare-skins for instance, but what
he can depend upon getting from the hat-manu-
facturers, or hat-furriers, and upon having a regular
market. Thus a double street-trade knowledge is
necesKiry, and a novice will not care to meddle
with any form of open air traffic but the simplest.
Neither is street-buying (old x:Iothcs excepted)
generally cared for by adults who have health and
strength.

In the course of a former inquiry I received an
account of hareskin-buying from a woman, upwards
of fifty, who had been in the trade, she told me,
from childhood, " as was her mother before her."
The husband, who was lame, and older than his
wife, had been all hi* life a field-catcher of birds,
and a street-seller of hearth-stones. They had
been married 31 years, and resided in a garret
of a house, in a street off Drurylanc — a small
room, with a close smell about it. The room was
not unfurnished — it was, in fact, crowded. There
were bird-cages, with and without birds, over what
uat once a bed ; for the bed, just prior to my visit,
had been sold to pay the rent, and a month's rent
was again in arrear ; and there were bird-cages on
the wall by the door, and bird-cages over the
mantelshelf, There was furniture, too, and
crockery ; and a vile oil painting of ** still life ;"
but an eye used to the .furniture in the rooms of
the poor could at once perceive that there was not
one article which could be suld to a broker or
marine-store dealer, or pledged at a pawn-shop.
I was told the man and woman both drank hard.
The woman said : —

" I \e sold horeskins all my life, sir, and was
bom in London ; but when hareskins isn't in,
I sells flowers. I goes about now (in November)
for my skins every day, wet or dry, and all day
long— that is, till it 's dark. To-day I 've not
hiid out a penny, but then it *s been such a day

112

LONDOir LABOUR ASD TEE LONDON POOR.

f >r rain. I reckon that if I gets hold of eighteen
bare and r.ibbit skini in a dar, that ii my greateat
day's work. I gtvei %i. for' good hares, what '•
not riiidlud much, and lelli them all for %\iL I lellf
what I pick up, by the twelve or the twenty, if
I can atTord to keep them by me till that num-
ber 's gathered, to a- Jew. I don't know what ii
done with them. I can't tell you jutt what use
they *re for — something about hats." [The Jew
was uo doubt a hat-furrier, or supplying a liat-
furrier.] *' Jews gives us better prices than
Christians, and buys readier; so I find. Lnst
wet>k I sold all I bnu^^ht for Z$. 6d. I Uke
some weeks as much as Si. for what I pick
up, and if I could get that every week I should
think myself a lady. The profit left me a clear
half-crown. Thera's no difTorence in any per-
ticler year — only that things gets worse. The
game laws, as far as I knows, hasn't made no
difTervnco in my trade. Indeed, I can't say I
knows anything about game laws at all, or hears
anything consiirning 'om. I gous along the squares
and streets. I buys most aft gentlemen's houses.
We never calls at hotels. The servants, and the
women that chars, and washes, and jobs, mannges
it there. ]Iarei>kiii8 is in -leastways I c'Iccts
them — from September to the end of March,
when hares, they says, goes mad. I can't say
what I makes <»ne week wiih another — perhaps
2*. (kl. may be cU-ared every week."

Theso buyer* j:" ri'gtilar rounds, carrying the
skins in their h.inds, and crying, ** Any hare-
skins, cook i Il.ireskins." It is for the most
p-irt a winti>r trade : but some collect the skins
all the year round, as the hares arc now vended
the year thrmi^'lt ; but by far the most are
gathered in the winter, ^irnnsc may not be
killed excepting; from the 12th, and bJack-game
from the 2Uih of Anjju&t to the lOih of Dc- ]
cembcr; partridges from the 1st of September to
the 1st of February ; while the pheaMnt suffers
a shorter season of slaughter, fmm the 1st of
October to the 1st of Frbruary ; but there is no
time restriction as to the killing of hares or of
rabbits, though custom causes a cessation for a
few months.

A lame man, apparently between 60 and 60,
with a knowing look, ^avc me the following ac-
count. When I saw him ho was carrying a few
tins, chiefly small dripping-pirns, under his arm,
which he offered for sale as he went his round
collecting hare and rabbit skins, of which he carried
but one. He had been in the streets all his life,
as his mother -he never knew any father — was a
rag-gatherer, and at the same time a street-seller
of the old brim!<tniic matches and papers of pins.
My informant assisted his mother tu nudce and
then to sell tliclfuatches. On her last illness she
was received into St. Giles's workhouse, her son
supporting himself out of it ; she had been dead
many years. lie could not read, and had never
been in a church or chapel in his life. ** He had
been married," ho aiid, " for about a dozen years,
and had a very good wife, who was also a itrect-
tnider until her death ; but " we didn't go to church
•r anywhere to be nmrried," he told me, in reply to

my qneition, " for we really coridA^ aflord to pay
the parson, and so we took one another's wonU.
If it*8 fo good to go to church for being mar-
ried, it oughtn't to cost a poor man nothing ; ko
shouldn't be charged for being good. I doom*!
do any bwiness in town, but has my regular
rounds. ThU is my Kentish and Camden-town
day. I buys most /rom the servants at the bet-
termost houses, and I 'd rather buy of then than
the missnsses^ tor some missussea aelli their own
skins, and they often want a deal tar 'an. Why,
just arter last Christmas, a young hdj In that
there house (pointing to it), after araaring me
round to the back-door, came to bm with two
harebkins. They certainly waa fine akina — werry
fine. I said I'd give i^d. 'Come now, my
good man,' says she," and the man mimicked her
Toice, "Met me have no nonsense. I can't be
deceived any longer, cither by yon or my ser-
vants ; so give me Sd., and go about your busi-
ness.' Well, I went about my business ; and a
woman called to buy them, and oflercd id. for
the two, and the lady was so wild, the servant
told mc arter; howsomever she only got id. at last
•She 's a n^gular screw, but a fine-dresaed oneu I
don't know that there 'a been any change in my
business aince hares nvas sold in the akapa. If
there *i more skins to sell, there's more poor
people to buy. I never tasted hares' flesh in my
life, though I 've gathered so many of their akina.
I 've amelt it when they 've been roaating them
where I 've called, but don't think I could eat
any. I live on bread and butter and tea, or
milk aometimes in hot weather, and get a bite <tf
fried fish or anything when I *m out, and a drop
of beer and a smoke when I get home, if I can
afford it. I don't smoke in my own place, I uses
a beer-shop. I pay Ig. 6il. a week for a small
room ; I want little but a bed in it, and have my
own. 1 owe tliree weeks' rent now; but I do
best both with tins and harcskins in the cold
weather. M on<lay 's my best day. 0, as to rab-
bit-»kins, I do werry little in them. Them as
sells them gets the skins. Still there is a few to
be picked up ; such as them as has been sent
as presenu from the country. Good rabbit-akina
is about the same price as hares, or periups
a halfpenny lower, take them all through. I
generally clears Gd. a dozen on my hare and
rabbit-skins, and sometimes 8r/. Yes, I should
say that for about eight months I gathers four
dozen every week, often five dozen. I suppose I
mako 5i. or 6i. a week all the year, with one
thing or other, and a lame man can't do wonders.
I never begged in my life, but I've twice had
help from the parish, and that only when I was
very bad (ill). 0, I suppose I shall end in tha
great house."

There are, aa closely as I can ascertain, at
least 50 persons buying skins in the street ; and
calculating that each collects 50 skins weekly §bt
S2 weeks of the year, we find 80,000 to be the
totaL This is a reasonable computation, for there
are upwards of 102,000 hares consigned yearly
to Newgate and Leadenhall marketa ; whUa tha
rabbits aold yeariyln London amount ta ^ant

LONDON LABOUR AND TEE LONDON POOB,

118

1,000,000; Inl^ ai I h.ive ihown, yerj f«w of
their ikiiii are diapoied of to itreet-bayen.

Ov ms Stbeet-Buters o? Wasts (Paper).
BiTOKD all others the itn-et-purchaae of wute
paper ii the most enrioui of any in the handi of
the clais I now treat of. Some maj haTe formed
the notion that watte paper it merely that which
ii toiWd or torn, or old numbers of newspapers, or
other periodiciil publications ; hot this is merely a
portion of the trade, as the Mbsequent account
will ahoir.

The men engaged in this business have not
nn&equently an apartment, or a large closet, or
recess, for the reception of their purchases of paper.
They collect their paper street by street, odling
upon CTery publisher, coflee-shop keeper, printer,
or publican (but rarely on a publican), who may
be a seller of " waste." I heard the refuse papiT
called nothing but "waste" after the general
elliptical fanhion. Attorneys' offices are often
Tisited hj these buyers, as are the offices of public
men, iKii as tax or rate collectors, generally.

One man told me that until about ten years
ago, and while he was a youth, he was em*
^oyed by a rehition in the trade to carry out
waste pqier sold to, or ordered by cheesemongers,
&e., bat that he never "collected," or bought
paper himself. At last he thought he would
•tart on his own account, and the first person he
called upon, he said, was a rich landlady, not fiir
from Hungerford-markct, whom he saw sometimes
at her bar, and who was always very civil. He
took an opportunity to ask her if she " happened
to have any waste in the house, or would have
any in a week or so 1*" Seeing the hindlaJy look
iQiprised and not very well phased at what cer-
tainly appeared an impertinent inquiry, he has-
tened to explain that ho meant old newspapers, or
anything that way, which he would be glad to
buy at so much a pound. Ttie landlady however
took in but one daily and one weekly paper (both
sent into the country when a day or so old), and
hating had no dealings with men of my inform-
ant's arocation, could not understand his object in
patting such questions.

Every kind of paper is purehaeed by the
" waste-men." One of these dealers said to me :
"I We often in my time 'cleared out ' a lawyer's
oiBce. I've bought old briefs, and other law
papers, and ' forms * that weren't the regular forms

then, and any d d thing they had in my line.

Ton 11 ezcnse me, sir, but I couldn't help thinking
what a lot of misery was caused, peihaps, by the
cwts. of waste I 've bought at such places. If my
ftfther hadn't got mixed up with law he wouldn't
haTe been ruined, and his children wouldn't have
had such a hard fight of it ; so I hate law. All
that happened when I was a child, and I never
vndentood the rights or the wrongs of it, and
doo^t like to think of people that 's so foolish. I
pm 14<2. a pound for all I bought at the hiwyers,
and done pretty well with it, but very likely
diat's the only good turn such paper ever did
anyoaa — vnless it were the lawyers themselTea."

The waste-dealers do not confine their purchases

to ihe tradesmen I have mentioned. They buy
of any one, and lemeUmes act as middlemen or
broken. For instance, many small stationers and
newsvendors, sometimes tobacconists in no exten-
sive waj of trade, sometimes chandlers, announce
by a bill in their windows, ** Waste Paper Bought
and Sold in any Quantity," while more frequently
perhaps the trade is carried on, as an understood
part of these small shopmen's busineu, without
any announcement Thus the shop-buyers have
much miscellaneoas waste brought to them, and
perhaps for only some particular kind have they a
demand by their retail customers. The regular
itinerant waste dealer then calls and " clears ont
everything" the "everything" being not an un-
meaning word. One man, who " did largely in
waste," at my request endeavoured to enumerate
all the kinds of paper he had porchased as waste,
and the packages of paper he showed me, ready
for delivery to his customers on the following day,
confirmed all he said as he opened them and
showed me of what they were composed. He had
dealt, he said — and he took great pains and great
interest in the inquiry, as one very curious, and
was a respectable luad intelligent man — in "books
on every snbject" [I give his own words] " on which
a book can be written." After a little considen-
tion he added : " Well, perhaps enrv subject is a
wide range ; but if there are any exceptions, it 's
on subjects not known to a busy man like me,
who is occupied from morning till night every
week day. The only worldly labour I do on a
Sunday is to take my family's dinner to the bake-
house, bring it home after chapel, and read Lloif<ft
Weekly. I 'vc had Bibles — the backs are taken off
in the waste trade, or it wouldn't be fair weight —
Testaments, Pmyer-bookB, Companions to the Altar,
and Sermons and religious works. Yes, I *ve
had the Roman Catholic books, as is used in their
public worship — at least so I suppose, for I never
was in a Roman Catholic chapel. Well, it 's hard
to say about proportions, but in my opinion, as
far as it 's good for anything, I 've not had them
in anything like the proportion that I've had
Prayer-books, and Watts' and Wesley's hymns.
More shame ; but you see, sir, perhaps a godly
old man dies, and those that follow him care nothing
for hvmn-books, and so they come to such as me,
for they 're so cheap now they 're not to be sold
second-hand at all, I fancy. I 've dealt in tragi>die8
and comedies, old and new, cut and uncut — they 're
best uncut, for you can make them into sheets
then — and farces, and books of the opera. I 've
had scientific and medical works of every possible
kind, and histories, and travels, and lives, and
memoirs. I needn't go through them — every-
thing, from a needle to an anchor, as the saying
is. Poetry, ay, many a hundred weight ; Latin
and Qieek (sometimes), and French, and other
foreign languages. Well now, sir, as yon mention
it, I think I never did have a Hebrew work ; I
think not, and I know the Hebrew letters when I
see them. Black letter, not once in a couple of
yean ; no, nor in three or Ibar yean, when I
think of it I have met with it, bat I always take
anything I 've got that way to Mr. , the

114

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

bookseller, who utei a poor man well. Don*t yon
think, lir, I 'm complaining of poverty ; though
I have been ver}' poor, when I was recovering
from cholera at the firtt bre.ik-out of it, and I 'm
nnytliing but rich now. Famphleta I 've had by
til? ton, in my time ; I think we should both tie
tired if I could go through all they were about
Very many were religious, more 's the pity. I 'va
heartl of a'pnge ronnd a quarter of cheese, though,
touching a man's heart."

In corroboRition of my informant's statement, I
may mention that in the course of my inquiry into
the condition of the fancy cabinet-makers of the
metropolis, one elderly and very intelligent man,
a first-rate artisan in skill, told me he had been so
reduced in the world by the underselling of slop-
masters (called "butchers" or "slaughterers," by
the workmen in the trade), that though in his
youth he could take in the Neva and JCxamimr
IKipers (each he believed Ocf. at that time, but was
not certain), he could afford, and enjoyed, no rend-
ing wlien I saw him lust autumn, beyond the
book -leaves in which he received his quarter of
cheese, his small piece of bacon or fresh meat, or
his saveloys ; and his wife schemed to go to the
shop^i who "wnipped up their things from books,"
in order that he might have something to read
after his day's work.

My infi>rroaut went on with his specification :
"llissionnry papers of all kinds. Piirlianientary
papers, but not so often new ones, very largely.
Kailway prospectuses, with plans to some of them,
nice engravings; and the same with other joint-
stock companies. Children's copy-books, and
cyphering-books. Old account-books of every kind.
A go:id many years ago, I had some that must
have li'"lon)»ed to a West £nd perfumer, there was
such French items for Lady this, or the Honour-
aliie Captain that. I remember there was an
Hon. Capt. G., and almost at every second page
was *1U0 tooth-picks, 8«. GU.' I think it was
Zi*. 6d.; in arranging this sort of waste one now
and then gives a glance to it Dictionaries of every
sort, I 've had. but not so commonly. Music
books, lots of them. Manuscripts, but only if
they 're rather old ; well, '20 or 30 years or so :
I call that old. Letters on every possible subject,
hut not, in my experience, any very modern ones.
An old man dies, you see, and his papers arc sold
otT, letters and all ; that 's the way ; get rid of
all the old rubbish, as soon as the old boy 's
point in^r his toes to the sky. What 's old letters
wcrth, w^licn the writers are dead and buried]
why, perhaps 1J</. a pound, and it's a Mttling
big letter t!mt will weigh half-an-ouncc. 0, it 's
a queer trade, but there 's many worse."

The letters which I saw in another waste-
dealer's possession were 45 in number, a small
collection, I was told ; for the most part they were
very dull and common-place. Among them,
however, was the following, in an elegant, and
I presume a female band, but not in the modern
fashionable style of handwriting. The letter
is evidently old, the addreu is of West-end
centility, but I leave out name and other parti-
cularities :— .

" Mrs. I.tt U not easy to iudga whether tha

flouriihed letters are * Mn.' or * Miss/ but cerulnly

more like ' Mrs.'] Mn. (Zoologieal Artist) nmenu

her compliments to Mr. , and being commissioned

to communicate with a gentleman of the name* recently
arrived at Charlng-cross, and presumed by descripUon
to be himself, In a matter of deucacy and confidence, to-
dinnensably verbal ; begs to say, that if interested In tlia
ecelaircissemcDt and necessary to the same, she may be
fuund in attendance* any afternoon of the current week*
tnm 3 to 6 o'clock, and no ottasfr hours.

" street, kquare.

'* Monday Mom. for the aftn., at home.**

Among the books destined to a batcher, I
found three perfect immbers of a sixpenny perio-
dical, published a few years back. Three, or
rather two and a half, numbers of a ahiUing
periodical, witli "coloured engravings of the
fashions." Two (imperfect) volumes of French
Plays, an excellent edition; among the playi
were Athalie, Iphigenie, Phedre, Lea Frerei
Bnncmis, Alexandre, Andromaque, Les Flai-
deurs, and Esther. . A music sheet, headed " A
lonely thing I would not be." A few pages
of what seems to have been a book of tales :
"Album d'un Sonrd-Muet" (36 pagei in the
pamphlet form, quite new). All these constituted
about twopennyworth to the butcher. Notwith-
standing the variety of sources from which the
supply is derived, I heard from several quarters
that " waste never was so scarce " as at present ;
it was hardly to be had at all.

Tlie purchasers of the waste-paper from the
collectors are cheesemongers, buttermen, butchers,
fishmongers, poulterers, pork and aausage-iellers,
sweet-stulT-sellers, tobacconists, chandlen — and
indeed all who sell provisions or such luxuries as
I have mentioned in retail. Some of the whole-
sale provision houses buy very largely and sell the
waste again to their customers, who pay more for
it by such a medium of purchase, but they have
it thus on credit. Any retail trader in provisions
at all *• in a large way," will readily buy six or
seven cwt. at a time. The price given by them
varies from Ijc/. to 3^(^ the pound, but it is very
rarely either so low or so high. The average price
may be taken at 18i. the cwt, which is not quite
2d. a pound, and at this rate I learn from the
best-informed parties there are twelve tons sold
weekly, or 1624 tons yeariy (1,397,760 lbs.), at
the cost of 11,23:2/. One man in the trade was
confident the value of the waste paper sold could
not be less than 12,000/. in a year.

There arc about 60 men in this trade, nearly
50 of whom live entirely, as it was described to
me, " by their waste," and bring up their fiimilies
upon it. The others unite some other avocation
with it. The earnings of the regular collectors
vary from I5t, weekly to Z5s. accordingly as they
meet with a supply on favourable terms, or, as they
call it, " a good pull in a lot of waste." They
usually reside in a private room with a recess, or
a second room, in which they sort, pack, and keep
their paper.

One of these traders told me that be waa
satisfied that stolen paper seldom found its way,
directly, into the collectors' hands, " particulariy
publisher's paper," he added. "Why, not long
since there was a lot of sheets stolen from Alder-

LOITLOir LABOUR AND THE LONDON P002L

115

■m Kelly's wanhonie, and the thief didn't take
then to a waite dealer; he knew better. He
took them, nr, to a tradeiman in a laige reipect-
able way OTer the water— « man that oiei great
loto of waite—and lold them at juit what was
luded to him : I tnppote no qoettiona aaked.
The thief waa tried and convicted, bnt nothing
wai done to the buyer."

It roiut not be lupposed that the watte- paper
need by the London tiadetmen ooatf no more than
12,000/. in a year. A laige quantity ie boi:(ght
direct by butchert and othen from poor penona
going to them with a small quantity of their
own aoenmulating, or with such things ai copy-
booki.

Or TBX Stbebt-Butebs of Umbrellab

AM) PiJUSOLS.

I The street-traders in old nmbrcllas and parasols
are numerous, but the buying ia but one mtrt, and
the least skilled part, of the business. Men, some
tolerably well-dressed, some swarthy-looking^ like
gipnes, and some with a vagabond aspect, may be
seen in all quarters of the town and suburbs,
carrying a few ragged-looking umbrellas, or the
stkks or fibs of umbrellas, under their arms, and
crying " Umbrelhis to mend," or " Any old um-
brelUs to selU" The traffickers in umbrellas are
also the crockmen, who are always glad to ob-
tain them in barter, and who merely dispose of
them at the Old Clothes Exchange, or in Petti-
coat-lane.

The umbrella-menders are known by an ap-
pellation of an appropriateness not uncommon in
street language. They are mushroom-fakers.
The form of the expanded umbrella resembles
that of a mushroom, and it has the further charac<

teristic of being rapidly or suddenly raised, the |

mushroom itself sprmgiBg up and attaining its foil
size in a very brief space of time. The term,
howoTer, like all street or popular tenna or phrases^
has beeome Tery generally condensed among those
who emy on the trade — ^they are now musK-
fakers, a word which, to any one who has not
heard the term in full, is a« meaningless as any
in the vocabulary of slang.

The mushroom-fiikera will repair any ombrella
on the owner's premises, and their work is often
done adroitly, I am informed, and as often
bonglingly, or, in the trade term, " botched." So
fitf tnero is no traffic in the business, the mushroom-
fiJcer simply performing a piece of handicraft and
being paid for the job. But there is another class
of street-folk who buy the old ombrellas in Petti-
coat-kme, or of the street buyer or collector, and
"sometimes,'' as one of these men said to me,
" we are our own buyers on a round." They mend
the umbrellas — some of their wives, I am assured,
being adepts as well as themselves — and offi;r them
for sale on the approaches to the bridges, and at
the comers of streets.

The street umbrella trade is really curious. Not
so very many years back the use of an umbrella
by a man Was regarded as partaking of effeminacy,
but now they are sold in thousands in the streets,
and in the second-hand shops of Monmouth-street
and such places. One of these street-traders told
me that he had lately sold, but not to an extent
which might encourage him to proceed, old silk
umbrellas in the street for genUemen to protect
themselves from the rays of the sun.

The purchase of umbrellas is in a great degree
mixed up with that of old clothes, of which I have
soon to treat; but from what I have stated it is
evident that the umbrella trade is most connected
with Btreet-artiianship, and under that head 1
shall describe it.

OF THE STREET-JEWS.

Althovoh my present inquiry relates to London
life in London streets, it is necessary that I should
briefly treat of the Jews generally, as an integral,
but distinct and peculiar part of street-life.

That this ancient people were engaged in what
may be called street-traifie in the earlier ages of
our history, as well as hi the importation of spices,
fors, fine Isather, armour, drugs, and general
merchandise, there can be no doubt ; nevertheless
coDoeming this part of the subject there are but
the most meagra accounts.

Jews were settled in Engknd as early as 730,
and during the away of the Saxon kings. They
increased in nunber after the era of the Con-
qnest ; hot it waa not until the rapacity to which
they were eipoaed in the reign of Stephen had
in A great meaaure exhaust^ itself, and until
tba measoret of Henry XL had given encourage-
meat to commerce, and some degree of security
to properqf' in cities or congregated communities,
that the Jaws in England became numerous and
They then becama active and enter-

prising attendants at fiurs, where the greater
portion of the internal trade of the kingdom was
carried on, and especially the traffic in the more
valuable commodities, such as plate, jewels,
armour, cloths, wines, spices, horses, cattle, &c.
The agents of the great prelates and barons, nnd
even of the ruling princes, purchased what they
required at these iairs. St. Qiles's fair, held at
St. Giles's hill, not far from Winchester, con-
tinned sixteen days. The fair was, as it were,
a temporary city. There were streets of tents
in every direction, in which the traders offered
and displayed their wares. Daring the con-
tinuance of the fair, busineu was strictly prohi-
bited in Winchester, Southampton, and in every
pkce within seven miles of St. Giles's hill.
Among the tentowners at such fiurs were the
Jews.

At this period the Jews mar bo considered as
one of the bodies of "merchant-strangers," as
they were called, settled in England for purposes
of commerce. Among the other bodies of these

116

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

''■trangen ** were the (Jemiaa " merchanta of the
•teel-jHrd," the Lombanli, the Gaonini of Borne,
the ** merehanU of the ataple,** and othen. These
were all corpontioni, and thririitff corporations
(when unmolested), and the Jews nad also their
Jewerie, or Jadatsme, not for a " corporation "
merelj, bat also for the requirements of their
fisith and worship, and for their living together.
The London Jewerie was established in a place
of which BO Testigc of its establishment now re-
mains beyond the name— the Old Jewry. Here
was erected the first synagogue of the Jews in
Bngliind, which was deu^d or demolished,
Maitland states, by the citizens, after ^they had
■lain 7(K) Jews (other accounts represent that
number as greatly exaggerated). This took pkce
in 1263, during one of the aany disturbances in
the uneasy reign of Henry III.

All this time the Jews amassed wealth by trade
and vsuij, in spite of their beinff plundered and
maltreated by the princes and other potentates —
erery one hat heard of King John's having a
Jew's teeth drawn — and in spite of their being
reviled by the priests and bated by the people.
The sovereigns generally encouraged ** merchant-
•trangers." When the city of London, in 1289,
petitioned Edward I. for ** the expulsion of all
merchant-strangers," that monarch answered,
with all a monarch's peculiar regard for "great **
men and "great" men only, "No! the mer-
chanWtBUigen are useful and beneficial to the
great nen of the kingdom, and I will not ex-
pel them.*" But though the King encouraged,
the people detested, ail foreign traden, though
not with the same intensity as they detested
and contemned the Jews, for in thai detes-
tation a strong religious feeling was an cle-
ment. Of this dislike to the merchant-strangerii,
very many instances might be cited, but I need
give only one. In 1379, nearly a century after
the banishment of the Jews, a Genoese merchant,
a man of groat wealth, petitioned Richard II. for
permission to deposit goods for safe keeping in
Southampton Castle, promising to introduce so
large a share of the commerce of the East into
Enghind, that pepper should be id. a pound.
" Yet the Londoners," writes Walsingham, but in
the quaint monkish Latin of the day, " enemies
to the prosperity of their country, hired assas-
sins, who murdered the merchant in the street.
After this, what stranger will trust his person
among a people to faithless and so cruel? who will
not dread our treachery, and abhor our name V*

In 1290, by n decree of Edward I., the Jews
were banished out of England. The causes as-
signed for this summary act, were "their ex-
tortions, their debasing and diminishing the coin,
and for other crimes." I need not enter into the
merits or demerits of the Jews of that age, but it
is certain that any ridiculous charge, any which it
was impossible could be true, was an excuse for
the plundering of them at the hands of the
rich, and the persecution of them at the hands
of the people. At the period of this banish-
ment, their number is represented by the con-
temporoneoua historians to have been about

! 16,000, a number aotl probablj exaggerated, as
perhaps all statements of the nnmben of a people
are when no statistical knowledge has been ac-
quired. During this period of their abode in
EngUind, the Jews were protected as the villeini
or bondsmen of the king, a protection disre-
garded by the commonalty, and only giving to the
executive government greater fiidlities of extortion
and oppression.

In 1655 an Amsterdam Jew, Babbi Hanasseh
Ben-Israel, whoee name is still highly esteemed
among his countrymen, addressed Cromwell on the
behalf of the Jews that they should be le-adraitted
into England with the sanction, and under the
protection, of the law. Despite the absence of such
sanction, they had resided and of course traded in
this country, but in small numbers, and trading
often in indirect and sometimes in eontrafaand
iK-ays. Chaucer, writing in the days of Bichard II.,
three reigns after their expulsion, speaks of Jewa
as living in Enghind. It is reputed that, in the
reigns of Elisabeth and the first James, they sup-
plied, at great profit, the materials required by the
alchymists for their experiments in the tmnsnmta-
I tion of metals. In Eliubeth's reign, too, Jewish
' physicians were highly esteemed in England. The
Queen at one time confided the care of her health
to BodrigoLopez, a Hebrew, who, however, was
convicted of an attempt to poison his royal mistress.
Francis I., of France, carried his opinion of Jewish
medical skill to a great height ; he refused on one
occasion, during an illneu, to be attended by the
most eminent of the Israelitish physicians, because
the learned man had just before been converted to
Christianity. The most Christian king, therefore,
applied to his ally, the Turkish sultan, Solyman
II., who sent him "a true hardened Jew," by
whose directions Francis drank asses' milk and re-
covered.

Cromwell's response to the application of Han-
asseh Ben Israel was favourable ; but the opposi-
tion of the Puritans, and more especially of Prjmne,
prevented any public declaration on the subject
lu 1656, however, the Jews began to arrive and
establish themselves in England, but not until after
the restoration of Charles II., in 1660, could it
be said that, as a body, they were settled in Eng-
land. They arrived from time to time, and with-
out any formal sanction being either granted or
refused. One reason alleged at the time was, that
the Jews were well known to be money-lenders,
and Charles and his courtiers were aa well known
money-borrowers I

I now come to the character and establishment
of the Jews in the capacity in which I have more
especially to describe them— aa street-traders.
There appears no reason to doubt that they com-
menced their principal street traflk, the collecting
of old clothes, soon niter their settlement in Loudon.
At any rote the cry and calling of the Jew oUL
clothesraan were so established, 30 or 40 years
after their return, or early in the last century, that
one of them is delineated in Tempest*s " Cries of
London," published about that period. In this
work the street Jew is repreaMBted as very difierant
in his appearance to that which he pceients in our

LOJfDON tAMOUR AN1>"TEE LONDON POOR,

117

day. Injtead of merely a dingy bag, hang empty
OTer his arm, or carried, when partially or wholly
filled, on hit shoulder, he ib depicted as wearing,
or rather carrying, three cocked haU, one over the
other, upon his head ; a muff, with a scaif or large
handkerchief over it, is attached to his right hand
and arm, and two dress swords occupy his left
hand. The apparel which he himself wears is of
the full-skirted style of the day, and his long hair,
or periwig, descends to his shoulders. TJus dif-
ference in appearance, however, between the street
Jew of 1700 and of a century and a half kter, is
uimp\j the effect of circumstances, and indicates
no change in the character of the man. Were it
now the &shi'on for gentlemen to wear muffi,
swords, and cocked hats, the Jew would again
have them in his possessioiL

During the eighteenth century the popular feel-
ing ran veiy high against the Jews, although to
the masses they were almoit strangers, except as
men employed in the not-Tery-formidable occupa-
tion of coUecting and vending second-hand clothes.
The old feeling against them seems to have lin-
gered among the English people, and their own
greed in many instances engendered other and
hkwful causes A dislike, by their resorting to un-
lawful and debasing pursuits. They were consi-
dered— md with that exaggeration of belief dear
to any ignorant community — as an entire people
of misers, usurers, extortioners, receivers of stolen
goods^ dieatf, brothel-keepers, sheriff's-officers,
dippen and sweaters of the coin of the realm,
gaming-house keepers; in fine, the charges, or
rather the accusations, of carrying on every dis-
reputable trade, and none else, were " bundled at
their doors.** That there was too much foundation
for many of these accusations, and still u, no rea-
sonable Jew can now deny ; that the wholesale
prejudice igunst them vras absurd, is equally in-
disjputable.

DO strong was this popular feeling against the
Israelites, that it not only influenced, and not only
controlled the legisktnre, but it coerced the Houses
of Parliament to repeal, in 1754, an act which
they had passed the previous session, and that act
was merely to enable foreign Jews to be natural-
iaed without being required to take the sacrament!
It was at that time, and while the popular ferment
was at its height, unsafe for a Hebrew old clothes-
man, however harmless a man, and however long
and well known on his beat, to ply his street-
calling openly; for he was often beaten and mal-
treated. M ob^ riots, pillagings, and attacks upon
the bouses of the Jews were frequent, and one of
the fiivoQiite cries of the mob was certainly among
the moat prepoiteroasly stupid of any which ever
tickled the ear and satisfied the mind of the
ignorant: —

•• No Jews I

No wooden shoes I ! **

Some mob-leader, with a taste for rhyme, had in
this distich cleverly blended the prejudice against
the Jews with the easily excited but vngue fears
of a French invasion, which was in some strange
way typified to the apprehensions of the vulgar as
eouMCted with slavery, popery, the compulsory

wearing of wooden shoes (sa5o(i), and the eating
of frogs 1 And this sort of feelmg was often re-
venged on the street-Jew, as a man vamk up
with wooden shoes ! Cumberland, in the comedy
of " The Jevr" and some time afterwards Hiss
Edgeworth, in the tale of " Harrington and Or-
mond," and both at the request of Jews, wrote
to moderate this rabid prejudice.

In what estimation the street, and, incidentally,
all classes of Jews are held at the present time,
will be seen in the course of my remarks ; and in
the narratives to be given. I may here observe^
however, that among some the dominant feeling
against the Jews on account of their fiiith still
flourishes, as is shown by the following statement:
— A gentleman of my acquaintance was one
evening, about twUighty walking down Brydges-
street, Covent-garden, when an elderly Jew was
preceding him, apparently on his return from a
day's work, as an old cloUiesman. His bag acci-
dentally touched the bonnet of a dashing woman
of the town, who was passing, and she turned
round, abused the Jew, and spat at him, saying
with an oath : " Tou old rags humbug 1 Jbtt
can't do that 1 '* — an allusion to a vulgar notion
that Jews have been unable to do more than
tlobber, since spitting on the Saviour.

The number of Jews now in England is com-
puted at 85,000. This is the result at which the
Chief Rabbi arrived a few years ago, after collect-
ing all the statistical information at his command.
Of these 35,000, more than one-half, or about
18,000, reside in London. I am informed that
there may now be a small increase to this popu-
lation, but only small, for many Jews have emi-
grated— some to California. A few years ago—
a drcnmstance mentioned in my account of the
Street-Sellers of Jewellery— there were a number
of Jews known as "hawkers," or "travellers,"
who traverse every part of England selling
watches, gold and silver pencil-cases, eye-glasses,
and all the more portable descriptions of jewellery,
as well as thermometers, barometers, telescopes^
and microscopes. This trade is now little pursued,
except by the stationary dealers ; and the Jews
who carried it on, and who were chiefly foreign
Jews, have emigrated to America. The foreign
Jews who, though a fluctuating body, are always
numerous in London, are included in the compu-
tation of 18,000; of this population two-thirds
reside in the city, or the streets adjacent to the
eastern boundaries of the city.

Or THE Tbades and Localities of the
SteeetJews.
The trades which the Jews most affect, I was
told by one of themselves, are those in which, as
they describe it, " there's a chance;'' that is, they
prefer a trade in such commodity as is not sub-
jected to a fixed price, so that there may bo
abundant scope for speculation, and something
like a gambler's chance for profit or loss. In
this way. Sir Walter Scott has said, trade has
"all the fiucination of gambling, without the
moral guilt;" but the absence of moral guilt in
connection with such trading is certainly dubious.

lis

LONDOM LABOUR AND THE MVJ)ON POOS.

The wholesale trades in foreign commoditiet
which are now priucipall j or aolely in the handi of
th» Jcwf, often oi importer! and exporters, are,
watdMi and jewels, sponges — ^fruits, especially green
fruits, such ai oranges, lemons, grapes, walnuts,
cocoarnuts, &c., and dates among dried fruits —
shells, tortoises, parrots and foreign birds, curiosi-
ties, ostrich feat hen, snufls, cigars, and pipes;
but cigars fiu: more extensively at one time.

The localities in which these wholesale and n-
tail traders nside are mostly at the East-end — in-
^d the Jews of London, as a congregated body,
have been, from the times when their numbtfi
were sufficient to institute a "settlement" or
" colony," peculiar to themselves, always resident
in the eastern quaiter of th« metronolii.

Of course a wealthy Jew millionaire — ^mer-
chant, stock-jobber, or stock-broker— resides where
he plsascs — in a villa near the Marquis of Hert-
ford'a in the Eegent's-pnrk, a mansion near the
Duke of ^VelUngtoB*s in Piccadilly, a house and
grounds at Clapham or Stamford-hill ; but these
are exceptions. The quarters of the Jews are not dif-
ficult to describe. The tradingdau in the capacity
of shopkeepers, warehousemen, or manufacturers,
are the thickest in Iloundsditch, Aldgate, and the
Hinories, more tspccially as regards the " swag-
shops" and the manufacture and sale of wearing
appwel. The wholesale dealers in fruit are in
Duke's-placc and Puddinghine (Thames-street),
but the superior retail Jew fruiterers — some of
whose shops are remarkable for the beauty of
their fruit — are in Cheapside, Oxford-street, Ticca-
dilly, and most of all in Covcnt-gardcn market.
The inferior jewellers (some of whom deal with
the first shops) are also at the East-end, about
'Whitechnpel, Bevis-nmrks, and Houndsditch ; the
wealthier goldsmiths and watchmakers having,
like other tradesmen of the class, their shops in
the superior thoroughfares. The great congrega-
tion of working watchmakers is in Clerken-
well, but in that locality there are only a few
Jews. The Hebrew dealers in second-hand gar-
ments, and second-hand wares generally, are
located about Fetticoat-lane, the peculiarities of
which place I have lately described. The manu-
facturers of such thinffs as cigars^ pencils, and seal-
ing-wax; the wholesale importen of sponge, bristles
and toys^ the deiilers in quills and in "looking-
glassesj/* feside in large private-looking houses, when
display li not needed for purposes of bu&iness, in
such parts as Maunsell-street, Great Prescottstrcet»
Qreat Ailie-street, Leman-streety and other parts
of the eastern quarter known as Qoodman's-fields.
The wholesale dealers in foreign birds and shells,
and in the many foreign things known as " curio-
sities," reside in East Smithfield, Ratcliffc-highway,
High-street (Shadwell), or in some of the parts
adjacent to the Thames. In the long range of
river-side streets, stretching from the Tower to
PopUr and Blackwall, are Jews, who fulfil the
many capacities of slop-sellers, &c., called into ex-
erdee .by the requirements of sea&ring people on
their return from or commencement of a voyage.
A few Jews keep boarding-houses for sailors in
Shadwell and Wapping. Of the localities and

abodes of the poemt of the Jews I shall speak
hereafter.

Concerning the street-trades pursued hj the
Jews, I believe there is not at present a single one
of which they can be said to have a monopoly ;
nor in any one branch of the street-traffic are
there so many of the Jew traders as there were a
few years back.

This remarkable change is thus to be accounted
for. Strange as the fact may appear, the Jew haa
been undersold in the streets, and he has been
beaten on what might be called his own ground
— the buying of old clothes. The Jew boys,
and the feebler and elder Jews, had, until some
twelve or fifteen years back, almost the monopoly
of orange and lemon street-selling, or street-hawk-
ing. The costermonger class had possession of
the theatre doors and the approaches to the
theatres ; they had, too, occasionaJly their barrows
full of oranges ; but ue Jews were the daily, as-
siduous, and itinerant itreet-sellers of this most
popular of foreign, and perhaps of all, fruits. In
their hopes of sale they followed any one a mile
if encouraged, even by a few approving glances.
The great theatre of this traffic was in the stage-
coach yards in such inns as the Bull and Mouth,
(St Martin's-le-Grand), the Belle Sauvage (Lnd-
gate-hill), the Saracen's Head (Snow-hill), the
Bull (Aldgate), the Swan-with-two-Necks (Lad-
lane, City), the George and Blue Boar (Holbom),
the White Horse (Fetter-kme), and other such
places. They were seen too, " with all their eyes
about them," as one informant expressed it, out-
side the inns where the coaches stopped to take
up passengers— at the White Horse Cellar in
Piccadilly, for instance, and the Angel and the
(now defunct) Peacock in Islington. A commer-
cial traveller told me that he could never leave
town by any "mail" or "stage," without being
besieged by a small army of Jew boys, who most
pertinaciously offered him oranges, lemons, sponges,
combs, pocket-books, pencils, sealing-wax, paper,
many-bladcd pen-knives, razors, pocket-mirrors,
and shaving-boxes — as if a man could not possibly
quit the metropolis without requiring a stock of
such commodities. In the whole of these trades,
unless in some degree in sponges and blacklead-
pencils, the Jew is now out-numbered or dis-
placed.

I haTe befbire alluded to the underselling of
the Jew boy by the Irish boy in the street-orange
trade ; but the characteristics of the change are so
peculiar, that a further notice is necessary. It is
curious to observe that the most assiduous, and
hitherto the most successful of street-traders, were
suppUuited, not by a more penerering or more
skilful body of street-sellers, bnt simply by a more
itarn'nff body.

Some few years since poor Irish people, and
chiefly those connected with the culture of the
land, "came over** to this country in great
numbers, actuated either by vague hopes
of "bettering themselves" by emigration, or
working on the railways, or else influenced by
the restlessness common to an impoverished
people. These men, when nnable to obtain em-

i i

IT

THE JEW OLD-CLOTHES MAN.
Cio', Clo\ Ci.o'.

[ Frutm a Duf- uer'-totm e ty U r. a R i>. )

LONDON JULBOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

119

ploymenty without laxipk became BtreeVKllen.
Not only did tKe adulu i«eort to streeMnfiic,
lenenlly in its rimpleflt fbrmi, such as hawking
fruit, but the children, by whom they were ac-
companied from Ireland, in great numbers, were
put into the trade ; and if two or three children
earned 2d. a day each, and their parents M, or 6</.
each, or even \d,, the subsistence of the fiunily was
better than they could obtain in the midst of the
miseries of the southern and western part of the
Sister Isle. An Irish boy of fourteen, hftTiag to
support himself by stree^trade, as was often the
case, owing to the death of parents and to divers
casualties, would undersell the Jew boys similariy
circumstanced.

The Irish boy could live harder than the Jew —
often in his own country he subsisted on a stolen
turnip a day; be could lodge harder — lodge for \d,
a night in any noisome den, or sleep in the open
air, which is seldom done by the Jew boy ; he
could dispense with the use of shoes and stock-
ings— a dispensation at which his rival in trade
reTolted ; he drank only water, or if he took tea
or coffee, it was as a meal, and not merely as a
berentge ; to crown the whole, the city-bred Jew
boy required some evening recreation, the penny
or twopenny concert, or a game at dxmnghts or
dominoes ; but this Uie Iriui boy, country bred,
nerer thought of, for hit sole luxury was a deep
sleep, and, being regardless or ignorant of all
such recreations, he worked longer hours, and so
sold more oranges, than his Hebrew competitor.
Thus, as the Munster or Connaught lad could live
on lets than the young denizen of Petticoat-lane,
he could sell at smaller profit, and did so sell,
until gradually the Hebrew youths were displaced
by the Irish in the street orange trade.

It is the same, or the same in a degree, with
other streetrtrades^ which were at one time all but
monopolised by the Jew adults. Among these
were the street«ile of spectacles and sponges.
The pre^alenoe of slop-work and slop-wages, and
the frequent diflkulty of obtaining properly-re-
muneiated employment — the pinch of want, in
short — hare driven many mechanics to street-
trafllc; so that the numbers of street-traffickers
have been augmented, while no small portion of
the new comers have adopted the more knowing
street aTocations, formeriy pursued only by the
Jews.

Of the other class of itreet-tnideii who have
interfered largely with the old-elothes trade,
which, at one time, people seemed to consider a
sort of birthright among the Jews, I have
already spoken, when treating of the dealings of
the crockmen in bartering glass and crockery- ware
for second-hmd apparel. These traders now
obtain a« many old clothes as the Jew clothes
men tbiaselvet; for, with a great number of
"Udies,* Uie offer of an ornament of glass or
spar, or of a beautiful and fragmt phwt, is more
attractive than the offer of a small sum of money,
for tlM pozehase of the left-off garments of the
fiunOy.

The erockmen are usually strong and in the
piiiiie of youth or manhood, and are capable of

earrying heavy burdens of glav or china-warefl,
for which the Jevi «a either ineompetent or dia-
inclined.

Some of the Jflwi whicb bare been thus dii-
pUced frtmi the street-traffic have emigrated to
America, with the assistance of their brethren.

The principal street-tmdes of tha Jews are now
in sponges, spectacles, combs, pendls, aceordions,
cakes, sweetmeats, drug% ttid fruits of all kinds;
bat, in all these trades, unless perhaps in drugs,
they are in a minority compared with the " Chris-
tian " street-sellers.

There is set among the Jew street-sellers gena*
rally anytUif af the concubinage or cohabitation
common among the costermongen. Marriage ii
the rule.

Ow THs Jiw OhD^uynam Mnr.
Fmr years ago the appearance of the street- Jews^
engaged in the fnrchase of second-hand clothes,
was different to what it is at the present time.
The Jew then had fiir more of the distinctive
garb and aspect of a foreigner. He not unfre-
quently wore the gabardine, which is never seen
now in the streets, bnt some of the long loose
frock coats worn by the Jew clothes' buyers re-
semble it At that period, too, the Jew's long
beard was far more distinctiva^lhaii it ia in thia
hirsute generation.

In other respects the streetJew is uaehanged.
Now, as during the last century, he traverses
every street, square, and road, with the mo-
notonous cry, sometimes like a bleat, of *' do* 1
Clo' ! " On this head, however, I have previously
remarked, when describing the street Jew of a
hundred years ago.

In an inquiry into the condition of the old-
clothes dealers a year and a half ago, a Jew gave
me the following account He told me, at the
commencement of his statement, that he was of
opinioil that his people were fiir more speculative
than the Gentiles, and therefore the English liked
bettor to deal with them. " Our people," he said,
*' will be out all day in the wet, and begrudge
themselves a bit of anything to eat till they go
home, and then, may be, they 11 gamUs sway their
crown, just for the love of speculatioBi* My in-
formanty who could write or speak several lan-
guages, and had been 60 years in the business,
then said, ^ I am no bigot ; indeed I do not care
where I buy my meat, so long as I can get it I
often go into the Minories and bar some, withmt
looking to how it has been killed, or whether it
has a seal on it or not"

He then gave me some account of the Jewish
children, and the number of men in the trade,
which I have embodied under the proper heads.
The itinerant Jew clothes man, he told me, waa
generally the son of a former old-clothes man, bnt
some were cigar-makers, or pencil-makers, taking
to the dethes business when those trades were
sUck ; but that nineteen out of twenty had been
bom to it. If the parents of the Jew boy are
poor, and the boy a sharp lad, he generally com-
mences business at ten yean of age, by selling
lemonsy or some trifle in the ttreetsj, and so, as he

ISO

LONDON LABOUR AND TUB LONDON POOR.

ezpresied it, the bey " geU a round,*' or streetcon-
nection, by bocoming known to the neighbour^
hoodf he visita. If he leei a eerrant, he will,
when telling hii lemoni, oik if she hare any old
•hoei or old clothes, and offer to bo a parcfaaaer.
If the clothei ahonld cone to more than the Jew
boy has in his pocket, he leoTes what silrer he
has as " an earnest anon them," and then seeks
some regular Jew clothei man, who will advance
the purchase money. This the old Jew agrees to
do upon the understanding that he is to hare
" half Rybeck/' that is, a moiety of the profit, and
then he will accompany the boy to the house, to
pass his judgment on the goods, and satisfy him-
self that the stripling has not made a blind bar-
gain, an error into which he rery rarely falls.
After this he goes with the lad to Fetticoat-lane,
and there they share whatever money the clothes
may bring over and above what has been paid for
them. By such means the Jew boy gets his know-
ledge of the old-clothes business ; and so quick an
these lads generally, that in the course of two
months they will acquire sufficient experience in
eonncction with the trade to begin dealing on
their own account There are some, he told me,
as sharp at 1 5 as men of 50.

"It is very seldom," my informant stated,
" very seldom indeed, that a Jew clothes man
takes away any of the property of the house he
may be oUled into. I expect there's a good
many of 'em," he continued, for ho sometimes
spoke of his co-traders, as if they were not of his
own class, "is fond of cheating — that is, they
won't mind giving only 2«. for a thing that's
worth bt. They are fond of money, and will do
almost anything to get it. Jews are perhaps the
most money-loving people in all England. There
are certainly some old-clothes men who will buy
articles at such a price that they must know them
to hove been stolen. Their rule, however, is to
ask no questions, and to get as cheap an article as
possible. A Jew clothes man is seldom or never
seen in liquor. They gamble for money, either at
their own homes or at public-houses. The
fovourite games are tossing, dominoes, and cards.
I was informed, by one of the people, that he had
seen as much as 30/. in silver nnd gold lying upon
the ground when two parties had bioen pUiying at
throwing three halfpence in the air. On a Satur-
day, some gamble away the morning and the
greater part of the afternoon." [Saturday, I need
hardly lay, is the Hebrew Sabbath.] " They meet
in some secret back place, about ten, and begin
playing for 'one a time' — that is, tossing up
three halfpence, and staking Is. on the result.
Other Jews, and a few Christians, will gather
round and bet. Sometimes the bets laid by the
Jew bystanders are as high as 21. each ; and on
more than one occasion the oldclothes men have
wagered as much as 50/., but only after great
gains at gambling. Some, if they can, wiU cheat,
by means of a halfpenny with a head or a tail on
both sides, called a ' gray.' The play lasU till
the Sabbath is nearly over, and then they go to
business or the theatre. They seldom or never
lay a word while they are lotbg, but merely

stamp on the ground ; it is dangerous, though, to
interfere when lock rons against them. The rule
is, when a man is losing to let him alone. I have
known them play for three hours together, and
nothing be said all that time but * head ' or ' tail.'
They seldom go to synagogue, and on a Sunday
evening have card parties at their own houses.
They seldom eat anything on their rounds. The
reason is, not becanse they object to eat meat
killed by a Christian, but because they are afraid
of losing a ' deal,' or the chance of buying a lot of
old clothes by dehiy. They are generally too
lasy to light their own fires before they start of a
morning, and nineteen out of twenty obtain their
breakfasts at the coffee-shops about Houndsditch.

" When they return from their day's work they
have mostly some stew ready, prepared by their
parents or wife. If they are not fiunily men they
go to an eating-house. This is sometimes a
Jewish house, but if no one is looking they creep
into a Christian ' cook-shop,' not being particular
about eating ' tryfcr' — that is, meat which has
been killed by a Christian. Those that are single
generally go to a neighbour and agree with him
to be boarded on the Sabbath ; and for this the
charge is generally about 2«. Qd. On a Saturday
there 's cold fish lot breakfast and supper ; indeed,
a Jew would pawn the shirt off his back sooner
than go without fish then ; and in holiday-time
he %ciU have it, if he has to get it out of the
stones. It is not reckoned a holiday unless there 's
fish."

" Forty years ago I have made as much as 5/.
in a week by the purchase of old clothes in the
strceU," said a Jew informant " Upon an average
then, I could earn weekly about 21. But now
things are different People are more wide awake.
Every one knows the value of an old coat now-
a-days. The women know more than the men. The
general average, I think, take the good weeks
with the bad throughout the year, is about 1/. a
week ; some weeks we get 21., and some scarcely
nothing."

I was told by a Jewish professional gentleman
that the account of the $pirxt of gambling preva-
lent among his people was correct, but the amounts
said to be staked, he thought, rare or exaggerated.

The Jew old-clothes men arc generally hx n:orc
cleanly in their habits than the poorer classes of
English people. Their hands they always wash
before their meals, and this is done whether the
party be a strict Jew or '* Mcshumet," a convert,
or apostate from Judaism. Neither will the
Israelite ever use the same knife to cut his meat
that he previously used to spread his butter, nnd
he will not even put his meat on a plate that has
had butter on it ; nor will he use for his soup the
spoon that has had melted butter in it This ob-
jection to mix butter with meat is carried so far,
that, after partaking of the one, Jews will not
eat of the other for the space of two hours. The
Jews are generally, when married, most exemplary
£unily men. There are few fonder fiithers than
they are, and they will starve themselves so6ner
than their wives and children should want
Whatever their fisnlts may be, they are good

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

121

fathers^ hmbands, and soni. Their principal
charactarittic is their extreme lore of money ; uid,
though the strict Jew does not trade himself on
the Sabbath, he may not object to employ either
one of his tribe, or a Gentile, to do so for him.

The capital required for commencing in the
old-clothes line is generally abont 1/. This the
Jew frequently borrows, especially after holiday-
time, for then he has generally spent all his eam-
iiigd, unless he be a provident man. When his
stock-money is exhausted, he goes either to a
neighbour or to a publican in the vicinity, and
borrows 1/. on the Monday morning, " to strike a
light with/' OS he calls it, and agrees to return it
on the Friday evening, with \i. interest for the
loan. This he always pays back. If he was to
sell the coat off his bock he would do this, I am
told, because to iiiil in so doing would be to pre-
vent his obtaining any stock-money for the future.
With this capital he starts on his rounds about
eight in the morning, and I am assured he will
frequently begin his work without tasting food,
rather than break into the borrowed stock-money.
Koch man has his particular walk, and never in-
terferes with that of his neighbour ; indeed, while
upon anotlier's beat he will seldom cry for clothes.
Sometimes they go half " Rybeck " together —
that is, they will share the profiU of the day's busi-
ness, and when they agree to do this the one will
take one street, and the other another. The lower
the Dcighbonrhood the more old clothes are there
for sale. At the east end of the town they like
the neighbonrhoods frequented by sailors, aud
there they purchase of the girls and the .women
the sailon^ jackets and trowscrs. But they buy
most of the Petticoat-lane, the Old-Clothes Ex-
change, and the marine-store dealers; for as the Jew
clothes man nerer travels the streets by night-time,
the parties who then have old clothes to dispose
of nsoally sell them to the marine-store or second-
hand dealers over-night, and the Jew buys them
in the morning. The first thing that he does on
his rounds is to seek out these shops, and see
what he can pick up there. A very great amount
of business is done by the Jew clothes man at the
marine-store shops at the west as well as at the
east end of London.

At the West-end the itinemnt clothes men pre-
fer the mews at the back of gentlemen's houses
to all other pUtces, or else the streets where the
little tradesmen and small genteel families reside.
My informant auured me that he had once bought
a Bishop's bat of his lordship's servant for \$. 6d.
on a Snnday morning.

These tnders, as I have elsewhere stated, live
at the £ajt-end of the town. The greater number
of them reside in Portsoken Ward, Uoundsditch ;
and their fevourite localities in this district are
either CobbVyard, Boper's-building, or Went-
worth-ftraet. They mostly occupy small houses^
about 4s. M. a week rent, and live with their
families. They are generally sober men. It is
seUom that a Jew iMves his house and owes his
landlord money ; and if his goods should be seized
th« rest of hi« tribe will go round and collect what
is owing.

The rooms occupied by the ohUlothes men are
fiir from being so comfivtable as those of the Eng-
lish artisans whose earnings are not superior to
the gains of these dothes men. Those which I
saw had all a littered look ; the furniture was old
and scant, and the apartment seemed neither
shop, parlour, nor bed-room. For domestic and
&mily men, as some of the Jew old-clothes men
are, they seem very indifferent to the comforts of
a home.

I haye spoken of " Tryfer," or meat killed in
the Christian fashion. Now, the meat killed ac-
cording to the Jewish law is known as " Coshar,"
and a strict Jew will eat none other. In one of
my letters in the Morning ChronicU on the meat
markets of London, there appeared the following
statement, respecting the Jew butchers in White-
chapel-market

" To a portion of the meat here exposed for
sale, may be seen attached the peculiar seal which
shows that the animal was killed conformably to
the Jewish rites. According to the injunctions of
this religion the beast must die from its throat
being cut, instead of being knocked on the head.
The slaughterer of the cattle for Jewish con-
sumption, moreover, must be a Jew. Two
slaughterers are appointed by the Jewish autho-
rities of the synagogue, and they can employ
others, who must be likewise Jews, as assistants.
The slaughterers I saw were quiet-looking and
quiet-mannered men. When the animal is
slaughtered and skinned, an examiner (also ap-
pointed by the synagogue) carefully inspects the
'inside.' 'If the lights be grown to the ribs,'
said my informant, who had had many years' ex-
perience in this. branch of the meat trade, 'or if
the lungs have any disease, or if there be any
disease anywhere, the meat is pronounced unfit
for the food of the Jews, and is sent entire to a
carcase butcher to be sold to the Christians. This,
however, does not happen once in 20 times.' To
the parts exposed for sale, when the slaughtering
has been according to the Jewish law, there is
attached a leaden seal, stamped in Hebrew cha-
racters with the name of the examiniM party
sealing. In this way, as I ascertained from the
slaughterers, are killed weekly from 120 to 140
bullocks, from 400 to 500 sheep and lambs, and
about 30 calves. All the parts of the animal thus
slaughtered may be and are eaten by the Jews,
but three-fourths of the purchase of this meat is
confined, as regards the Jews, to the fore-qnartert
of the respective animals; the hind-quarters, being
the choicer parts, are sent to Newgate or Leaden-
hall-markets for sale on commission." The Hebrew
butchers consider that the Christian mode of
slaughter is a far less painful death to the ox
than was the Jewish.

I am informed that of the Jew Old-Clothes Men
there are now only firom 500 to 600 in London ;
at one time there might have been 1000. Their
average earnings may be something short of 20s. a
week in second-hand clothes alone; but the
gains are difficult to estimate.

us

LOSDOS LABOUR ASJ> THE LONDOS FOOIL

Ow A Jew SfRXR-SsuuL

Am elderly Bum, who, at the timt I faw him, wm
▼oidiiig ipectadcsy or borterinf them in oM
dothef, old booki^ or any leeond-haiid artidei^
gave me an account of hit ttreet^lilie, but it pre-
aented little remarkable berond the not unoaoal
Ticiioitadee of the livei of ihoee of hia daaa.

He had been in erery etiect-trade, and had on
four oocasione trmTelled all oTer England, leUing
qnilli, lealing-waz, pencils, epongei^ braoei^ cheap
or mperior jewellery, thermometen, and pictoreiL
He hmd aold banimetert in the aoantainou porta
of Cnmberknd, lometimco walking lor honn
withont seeing man or woman. " I liked it thttt,"
he said, "far I vtu jfoaa^ and ttronff, and
didnt eart to sieep ttrict in ike mmt fprm. I was
afterwards in the old-clothes line. I bay a few
odd hau and light things still, bat I 'm not able
to carry heary weights, as my breath is getting
rather short" [I find that the Jews generally
object to the more laborious kinds of street-traffic]
** Yes, I 'to been twice to Ireland, and sold a
good ULiny qniUs in Dublin, fur I crossed over
from Liverpool. Quills and wax were a great
trade with us once; nntv it's quite different.
I 'to had as much as 60/. of my own, and that
more than half-a-di)aen times, but all of it went
in speculations. Yes, some went in gambling. I
had a share in a gnming-booth at the races, for
three years. 0, 1 dare say that 's more than 20
years back ; but we did very little good. There
was such fees to pay for the tent on a raoe-
gxound, and often such dehiys between the races
in the different towns, and bribes to be given to
the town-officers — such as town-Krg<«nts and chief
conbtibles, and I hardly know who — and so many
expenses altogether, that the profits were mostly
swamped. Once at Newcastle races there was a
fight among the pitman, and our tent was in their
way, and was demolished almost to bits. A deal
of the money was lost or stolen. I don't know how
much, but not near so much as my partners wanted
to make out I wasn't on the spot just at the
timf. I got married after that, and took a shop
in the second-hand clothes line in Bristol, but my
wife died in child-bed in less than a year, and the
shop didn't answer ; so I got sick of it, and at
last got rid of it 0, I work both the country
and London still. I shall take a torn into Kent
in a day or two. I suppoie I clear between lOs.
and 20«. a week in anything, and as I 'to only
myself I do middling, and am ready for another
chsnce if any likely specoktion oilers. I lodge
with a relation, and sometimes lira with his
family. No, I ncTer tooch any meat but ' Coshar.'
I suppose my meat now costs me 6<i. or 7<<. a day,
but it has cost me ten times that and %L for beer
in addition."

I am informed that there are abont 50 adult
Jews (besides old-clothes men) in the streets
■elling fruit, cakes, pencils, spectadM, iponge,
accordions, drugs, dec

Ov THa Jaw-BoT STRBST-SlLin<.
I HAVK ascertained, and from sources where no

a on the aolject ooold pferafl, that there
in the sUeeto of London, rather men than
100 Jew-boys engaged principally in finit and
cake-eeOiqg in the streets. Very few Jewessea
are itinennt atree^eeUers. Most of the older Jews
thos engaged have been street-seHen from their
boyhood. The young Jews who ply in street-
callings, howerer, are all men in mattan of traffic,
almost before ther cease, in years, to be children.
In addition to the Jew-boy street^Uers abore
enumerated, there are from 60 to 100, but nsoally
abont 50, who are ofrasional, or "casnal" street-
traders, Tending for the most part cocoa-nuts and
grapes, and confining their sides chiefly to the
Dondaya.

On thesnbject of the streeiJew boys, a Hebiew
centleman said tome: " When we speak of street-
Jew boys, it sboold be understood, that the great
majority of them are bnt little mora conversant
with or interested in the religion of their fothers,
than are the costermonger boys of whom yon have
written. They are Jews by the accident of their
birth, as others in the same way, with eqnal igno>
ranee of the assumed fiuth, are Christiana.''

I received from a Jew boy the followimg ac-
count of his trading pursuits and individnal aspi-
rations. There was somewhat of a thickness in his
uttersnce, otherwise his speech was but little dis-
tinguishable from that of an Bnglish street-boy.
His physiognomy was decidedly Jewish, bat not
of the handsomer type. His hair was light-
coloured, but clean, and apparently well brushed,
without being oiled, or, as I heard a atreet-boy
style it, "igreased"; it was long, and heasid his
aunt tohi him it " wanted cutting sadly ;" but he
''liked it that way;" indeed, he kept dashing
his curls from ^his eyes, and back firom his tem-
ples, as he was conversing, as if he were some-
what vain of doing so. He was dressed in a
corduroy suit, old but not ragged, and wore a
tolerably clean, very coarse, and altogether button-
less shirt, which he said " was made for one bigger
than me, sir." He had bought it for 9^d, in Petti-
coat-Une, and accounted it a bargain, as its wear
would be dunble. He was selling sponges when
I saw him, and of the commonest kind, offering a
large piece for Sc/., which (he admitted) would be
rubbed to bits in no time. This sponge, I should
mention, is frequently "dressed" with sulphuric
acid, and an eminent surgeon informdd me that
on his servant attempting to clean Us black dress
coat with a sponge that he had newly bought in
the streets, the colour of the garment^ to his horror,
changed to a bright purple. The Jew boy said —

'* I believe I 'm twelve. I 've been to school,
but it 's long since, and my mother waa very ill
then, and I was forced to go out in the streets to
have a chanee. I never was kept to school. I
can't read ; I 'to forgot all about it. Td rather
now that I could read, but very likely I coald
soon learn if I could only spare time^ bat i^ I
stay long in the house t feel sick; it's not
healthy. 0, no, sir, inside or out it wxndd be dl
the same to me, just to make a living and keep aiy
health. I can't say how long it is since I b^gan
to sell, it 's a good long time ; one miut do aoae-

LONDON LABOUR AND THS LONDON POOR.

128

tUn^ I ooold keep myielf now, md do lome-
tinMi^ bat my fruer — I live with lum (my
motlMr'edfled) le often laid up. Wonld you like
to Ke him, sirl He knowi a deeL No, he
ctn't write, bnt he can read a little. Can I ipeak
Hebrew 1 Well, I know what yon mean. 0,
no, I ean*t. I don't go to synaffogoe ; I haTen't
time. My fiuher goes, but only ■ometimei ; eo
he iaye, and he telli me to look oal, for we omit
both go by-and-by." [I began to aek him what
he knew of Joeeph, and othen recorded in the Old
Testament, bat he brietled up, and aaked if I
wanted to make a Meihumet (a oonTort) of him f|
" I hare eold all eorta of thiDge," he continued,
" omngee, and lemons, and sponges, and nuts, and
aweets. I should like to hate a real good ginger-
beer fountain of my own ; but I must wait, and
there 's many in the trade. I only go with boys
of my own sort I sell to all sorts of boys,
but that *s nothing. Very likely they 're Christians,
bnt that 's nothing to me. I don't know what 's
the difference between a Jew and Christian, and
I don't want to talk about it The Meshumets
are nerer any good. Anybody will tell you that
Yet, I like music and can sing a bit I get to a
penny and sometimes a two-penny concert. No,
I haTen't been to Sussex Hall — I know where it
IS — I shouldn't understand it Tou get in for
nothinff^ that's one thing. I 're heard of Baron
Bothicnild. He has more money than I could
count in shiUmgs in a year. I don't know about
his wanting to get into parliament, or what it
means ; but he 's sure to do it or anything else,
with his money. He's rery charitable, I've
heard. I don't know whether he's a Qerman
Jew, or a Fortegee, or what He 's a cut above
me, a precaous sight I only wish he was my
ande. I can't say what I should do if I had his
money. Perhaps I should go a trarellinf, and see
ereiythiqg ereiywhere. I don't know how long
the Jews have been in England; always per-
haps. Yei^ I know there 's Jews in other countries.
TUs sponge is Greek sponge, but I don't know
where it 's grown, only it 's in foreign parts. Jeru-
niem ! Tea, I Ve heard of it I *m of no tribe
that I know of. I buy what I eat about Tetticoat-
lane. No, I don't like fish, but the stews, and
the onions with them is beautiful for two-pence ;
Toa may get a pennor'th. The pickles — cowcnm-
bers is best are stunning. But tney 're plummicst
with a bit of cheese or anything cold — that 's
mr opinioo, bnt you may think di^rent Pork 1
Ah J Nc^ I never touched it; I 'd as soon eat a
eat ; fo wonld my fiither. No, sir, I don't think
pork smells nice m a cook-shop, but some Jew
Iwys, as I knows, thinks it does. I don't know
why it shoaldn't be eaten, only that it 's wrong to
eat it No^ I never touched a ham-sandwich, but
other /ew bojri have, and kiughed at it, I know.
"I den*t know what I make in a week. I
ikSak I make as much on one thing as on another.
I've sold atfawberries, and cherries, and goose-
bsrriai^ and nnts and walnuts in the season. 0,
■I to what I make, that 's nothing to nobody.
I M. a day, sometimes Is.; sometimes a
I nothmg. No, I never

sells inferior things if I can hdp it, but if one
hasn't stock-money one must do as one can, but it
isn't BO easy to try it on. There was a boy
beaten by a woman not louff since for selling a
b^ pottle of strawberries that was rubbish all
nnder the toppers. It was all strawberry leaves,
and crushed strawberries, and such like. She
wanted to take bock from him the two-pence she 'd
paid for it, and got hold of his pockets and there
was a regnhur figh^ but she didn't get a fiirthiog
back though she tried her very hardest, 'cause he
slipped from her and hooked it So you see it 's
dangeroos to try it on." TThis hist remark was
made gravely enough, but the lad told of the feat
with such manifest glee, that I'm inclined to
believe that he himself was the culprit in question.]
".Yes, it was a Jew boy it happened to, but other
boys in the streets is just the same. Do I like
the streeUl I can't my I do, there's too little
to be made in them. No, I wouldtCt like to go
to ickool, nor to be in a shop, nor be anybody*s
tenfant but my oipa. 0, 1 don't know what I
shall be when I 'm grown up. I shall take my
chance like others."

Of THS Pursuits, DwBLLncas, Tr^fic, etc.,
OF THE Jew-Bot Street-Sellsbs.
To speak of the street Jew-boys as regards their
traffic, manners, haunts, and associations, is to
speak of the same class of boys who may not be
employed regularly in street-sale, but are the
comrades of those who are ; a class, who, on any
cessation of their employment in cigar manufiu-
tories, or indeed any capacity, will apply them-
selves temporarily to street-selling, for it seems to
these^ poor and uneducated lads a sort of natural
vocation.

These youths, uncontrolled or iwconirolldble by
their pareuu (who are of the lowest class of the
Jews, and who often, I am told,care little about the
matter, so long as the child can earn his own mainte-
nance), frequently in the evenings, after their day's
work, resort to coffee-shops, in preference even to
a cheap concert-room. In these places they amuse
themselves as men might do in a tavem'where the
landlord leaves his guests to their own caprices.
Sometimes one of them reads aloud firom some
exciting or degrading book, the bids who are
unable to read listening with all the intentness
with which manv of the uneducated attend to any
one reading. The reading is, however, not unfire-
quently interrupted by rude commento from the
listeners. If a newspaper be read, the "police,"
or "crimes," are mostly the poru preferred. But
the most approved way of passing the evening,
among the Jew boys, is to play at drauffhts, do-
minoes, or cribbage, and to bet on the pbky.
Draughts and dominoes are unpractised among
the costermonger boys, but some of the young
Jews are adepts in those games.

A gentleman who took an interest in the Jew
lads told me that he bad often heard Uie sort of
reading and comments I have described, when he
had cdled to talk to and perhaps expostolato with
these youths in a eoffee-shop, bnt he informed me
that they seldom regarded any expostulation, and

124

LOXDOy LABOUR AXD THE LOXDON POOR.

feemed to be little rettrained br the prefence of
a itrmnger, the kdf all mattering and laughing in
a box among themselTet . I taw teTen of them,
a Httle after eight in the erening, in a coflee-thop
in the London-road, — although it iB not much of
a Jewifh locality, — and two of them were playing
at draughtii for coffee, while the others looked on,
betting halfpennies or pennies with all the eager-
ness of gamblers, nnrestrained in their expressions
of delight or disappointment as ther thought thej
were winning or losing, and commenting on the
moves with all the assurance of connoisseurship ;
sometimes they squabbled angrily and then sud-
denly droppefl their voices, as the master of the
coffee-shop had once or twice cautioned them to
be quiet

The dnrfllings of boys stich ns these arc among
the worst in London, a* rcsmrds ventilation, com-
fort, or clennliness. Tl«cy reside in the courts
and rec'-Mcs about Whiiix-hapel and Petticoat-
lane, and generally in a g.irrct It not orphans
they usually dwell with their father. 1 am told that
the care of a mother is almost indispensable to a
poor Jew boy, and hiviiig that care he seldom
becomes ;in outcast. Tlic Jewesses and Jew girls
are rarely itinerant stre^ttclleri— not in the pro-
portion of one to twelve, c.imiiared with the men
and boys; in this respect therefore the street Jews
difllur widely from the ICni^lish cMtermongers and
the street Irish, nor are the Hebrew femaJes even
stall-keepers in the same proportion.

One Jew boy's lod^^ing which I visited was in
a back garret, low and small. The boy lived with
his father (a streot-s»'Ilcr of fruit), and the room
wai very bare. A few sicks were thrown over
an old pallitiss, a blanket seemed to be used for
a quilt ; there were ni J:re-ip;ns nor fender ; no
cooking utensils. Beside the bed was an old
chest, serving for a chair, ^-hile a board resting
on a trestle did duty fur a table (this was once,
I presume, a small street-still). The one not very
large window was thick with dirt and patched all
over. Altogether I have seldom seen a more
wretched apartment The man, I was told, was
addicted to drinking.

The callings of which the Jew boys have the
monopoly arc not connected with the sale of any
especial article, but rather with such things as pre-
sent a variety from those ordinarily offered in the
streets, such as cakes, sweetmeats, fried fish, and
(in the winter) elder wine. The cakes known as
" boolers " — a mixture of egg, flour, and candied
orange or lemon peel, cut very thin, and with a
flight colouring from saffron or something similar —
are nowsold principally, and used to be sold exclu-
sively, by the Jew boys. Almond cakes (little
round cakes of crushed almonds) are at present
vended by the Jew boys, and their sponge biscuits
are in demand. All these dainties are bought
by the street-lads of the Jew pastry-cooks. The
difference in these cakes, in their sweetmeats, and
their elder wine, is that there is a dash of spice
about them not ordinarily met with. It is the
same with the fried fish, a little spice or pepper
being blended with the oil. In the street sale of
pickles the Jews have also the monopoly ; these.

however, are mMob hawked, bat gcneraUy told

from windows and door-steada. The |Hcklet are

I cucumbers or gherkins, and onioMi — a large ca-

< camber being 2d., and the smaller 1^ and \d.

I The fiialu of the Jew lad are an eageness to

* make money by any means, so that be olten grows

• np a cheat, a trickster, a receiver of stolen goods,
though seldom a thief, for he leaves that to others.
He is content to profit by the thief's work, bat
seldom sfeu/s himself, however be may cheat

I Some of these lids become rich men ; othen are
' vagabonds all their lives. None of the Jew lads
; confine themselves to the sale of any one artids^
nor do they seem to prefer one branch of street-
traffic to another. Even those who cannot read
are exceedingly quick.

I may here 'obser^'e in connection with the re-
ceipt of' stolen goods, that I shall deal with this
subject in my account of the Lovnoar TniETSS.
I shall also show the connection of Jewesses and
Jews with the ]>rostitutioA of tke metropolis, in
my forthcoming exposition of the Loisoa Paos-

TITCTES.

Of the Street Jewesses avd Stueh
Jew-Oi&lb.
I HATE mentioned that the Jewesses and the
young Jew girU, compared with the adalt Jews and
Jew boys, are not street-traders in anything like
the proponion which the fennles were found to bear
to the mnles among the Irish stree^folk and the
English costermongers. There are, howeTer, a few
Jewish females who are itinerant street-selleis as
well as still keepers, in the proportion, perban
of one female to seven or eight males. The
majority of the street Jew-girls whom I saw on a
round were accompanied by boys who were re-
presented to be their brothers, and I have little
doubt such was the facts, for these yonng Jewesses,
although oft'.n pert and ignorant, are not unchaste.
Of this I was assured by a medical gentleman
who couKl speak with sufficient positiTsnesi on the
subject

Fruit is generally sold by these boys and girls
together, the lail driving the barrow, and the giri
inviting custom and handing the purchases to the
buyers. In tending a little stall or a basket at a
regular pitch, with such things as cherries or straw-
berries, the little Jewess diSat only from her
street-sellinf^ sisters in being a brisker trader. The
stills, with a few old knives or scissors, or odds
and ends of laces, that are tended by the Jew
giris in the streeU in the Jewish quarters (I am
told there are not above a dozen of them) ve
generally near the shops and within sight of their
parents or friends. One little Jewess, with whom
I had some conversation, had not even heard the
name of the Chief Babbi, the Rev. Dr. Adler, and
knew nothing of any distinction between German
and Portuguese Jews ; she had, I am inclined to
believe, never heard of either. I am told that
the whole, or nearly the whole, of these young
female tniders reside with parents or friends^ and
that there is among them far leu than the avenge
number of runaways. One Jew told me he thoqght
that the young female members of his tribe did

LOXDON LABOUR AND THE LOXDOS^ POOR,

125

not tramp with tlie jnyenilct of the other sex—-

no, not in the proportion of one to a hundred in

compurison, he taid with a kugh, with " young

women of the Ghristiiin persuasion." My in-

fennant had means of knowing this fkct, as although

ftill a young man, he had traversed the greater

j part of England hawking perfumery, which he

; bad abandoned as a bad trade. A wire- worker,

.' long familiar with tramping and going into the

J country — a man upon whose word I have every

reason to rely — told me that he could not remember

a single instance of his having seen a yoimg

Jewess " travelling" with a bor.

There are a few adult Jeweaiei who are itinerant
traders, but very few. I met with one who carried
on her arm a not very large basket, filled with
glass wares; chiefly sait-cellars, cigar-ash plutes,
blue glass dessert pUtes, vinegar-cruets, and such
like. The greater part of her wares appeared to
be blue, and she carried nothing but glass. She
was a good-looking and neatly-dressed woman.
She peeped in at each shop-door, and up at the
windows of every private house, in the street in
which I met her, crying, " Clo', old do' !'* She
bartered her glass for old clothes, or bought the
gannentf, dealing principally in female attire, and
almost entirely with women. She declined to say
anything about her family or her circumstxmces,
except ViMi she had nothing that way to complain
aboot, bat — when I had used some names I had
nnthority to make mention of — she said she would,
with pleasure, tell me all about her trade, which
ibe carried on rather than do nothmg. " When
I hawk/' she said with an English accent, her face
being nnroistikeably Jewish, ** I hawk only good
glass, and it can hardly be called hawking, as I
swop it for more than I sell it I always ask for
the miitrets, and if she wants any of my gUss we
come to a baigain if we can. 0, it *t ridiculous to
see what things some ladies — I supposct they must
be called ladiet— offi;r for my glass. Children's
green or blue gause veils, torn or faded, and not
worth picking up, because no use whatever ; old
ribbona, not worth dyeing, and old frocks, not
worth washing. People say, ' as keen as a Jew,'
but ladies can't think we're very keen when they
offer na such rubbish. I do most at the middle
kind of booses, both shops and private. I some-
timet give a little money for such a thing as a
•luiwl, m ti fwt tippet, as well as my glass — but
only when I can*t help it — to secure a bargain.
Sometimca^ bnt not often, I get the old thing and
a trifle for my glass. Occasionally I buy out-
right I don*t do much, there 's so many in the
line, and I don't go out regularly. I can't say
how many women are in my way — very few ; 0,
I do middling. I told you I hud no complaints
to make. I don*t calculate my profits or what I
sell. My family do that and I don't trouble my-
self."

Of mm SnrAOoouES ahd thi RiLiaioH or

THi Street akd otueb Jews.
Thb Jews in this country are cUtfsed as " Por-
tngnese " and " Qerman." Among them are no
«f tribes, but there is of rites and

ceremonies, as is set forth in the following extract
(which shows also the mode of government) from
a Jewish writer : " The Spanish and Portuguese
Congregation of Jews, who are also called Sephar-
din (from the word Sepharad, which signifies
Spain in Hebrew), arc distinct from the German
and Polish Jews in their ritual service. The
prayers both daily and for the Sabbath materially
differ from each other, and the festival prayers
difler still more. Hence the Portuguese Jews
have a distinct prayer-buok, and the German Jews
likewise.

" The fundamental laws arc equally observed by
both sects, but in the ceremonial worship there
exists numerous differences. The Portuguese Jews
eat some food during the Pacsover, which the
German Jews are prohibited doing by some Bab-
bis, but their authority is not acknowledged by
the Portuguese Rabbis. Nor are the present
ecclesiastical authorities in London of the two
sects the same. The Portuguese Jews have their
own Rabbis, and the German have their own.
The German Jews are much more numerous
than the Portuguese ; the chief Rabbi of tlie
German Jews is the Rev. Dr. Nathan Marcus
Adler, late Chief Rabbi of Hanover, who wears
no beard, and dresses in the Gennan costume.
The presiding Rabbi of the Portuguese Jews is
the Rev. David Meldola, a native of Leghorn;
his father filled the same ofiice in London. Each
chief Rabbi is supported by three other Rabbis^
called Dayamin, which signifies in Hebrew
'Judges.' Every Monday and Thursday the
Chief Rabbi of the German Jews, Dr. Adler,
supported by his three colleagues, sits for two hours
in the Rabbinical College (Beth Hamedrash),
Smith's-buildings, Leadenhall-street, to attend to
all applications from the German Jews, which
may be brought before him, and which are
decided according to the Jewish law. Many dis-
putes between Jews in religious matters are settled
m this manner ; and if the Lord Mayor or any
other magistrate is told that the matter has already
been settled by the Jewish Rabbi he seldom in-
terferes. This applies only to civil and not to
criminal cases. The Portuguese Jews have their
own hospital and their own schools. Both con-
gregations have their representatives in the Board
of Deputies of British Jews, which board is ac-
knowledged by government, and is triennial. Sir
Moses Montefiore, a Jew of great wealth, who
distinguished himself by his mission to Damascus,
during the persecution of the Jews in that place,
and also by his mission to Russia, some years ago,
is the President of the Board. All political
matters, calling for communications with govern-
ment, are within the province of that useful
board."

The Jews have eight synagogues in London,
besides some smaller places which may perhaps,
adopting the hnguage of another church, be called
synagogues of ease. The great synagogue in
Duke's-place (a locality of which I have often had
to speak) is the Urgest, but the new synagogue,
St Helen's, Bishopgate, is the one which most
betokens the wealth of the worshippers. It is

126

LONDON LABOUR AND THJS LONDON POOR.

rich with omamenta, narble, and painted glaM ;
the payement is of painted marUe, and presents a
perfect round, while the ceiling is a half dome.
There are besides these the Hamburg STnagogue,
in Fenchurch-street ; the Portuguese Synagogue,
in Bevis-niarks ; two smaller places, in Cutler-
street and Gun-yard, Houndsditch, known as
Polish Synagogues ; the Maiden-hine (Covent-gar-
den), Synagogue; the Western Synagogue, St
Alban's-place, Poll-mall; and the West Lon-
don S)'nagngne of British Jews, Margaret-
street, Cavendish-8qu.ire. The last-mentioned
is the most aristocratic of the synagogues.
The service there is curtiiiled, the ritu;il abbre-
viated, and the days of observance of the
Jewish festival reduced from two to one. This
alteration is strongly protested against by the
other Jews, and the practices of this synagogue
seem to show a yielding to the exactions or re-
quirements of the wealthy. In the old days, and
in almost every country in Europe, it was held to
be sinful cvenfora king — reverenced and privileged
as such a potentate then was — to prosecute any
undertaking before he heard mass. In some
states it was said in repro,'tch of a noble or a sove-
reign, " he breakfasts before he hears mass," and,
to meet the impatience of the Great, " hunting
masses," ns they were styled, or epitomes of the
full service*, were introduced. The Jews, tome
eight or nme years back in this country, seem to
have followed this example ; such was the case, at
least, as regards London and the wealthier of the
professors of this ancient faith.

The synagogues are not well attended, the con-
gregations being smaller in proportion to the popu-
lation than those of the Church of Enghind.
Neither, during the observance of the Jewish
worship, is there any especial manifestation of the
serAHcc being regarded as of a sacred and divinely-
orJuined ciiaracter. There is a buzzing talk
among the uttendRnts during the ceremony, and
an absence of seriousness and attention. Some of
the Jews, however, show the greatest devotion,
and the same may be said of the Jewesses, who
sit apart in the synagogues, and are not required
to attend so regularly as the men.

I should not have alluded to this absence of the
solemnities of devotion, as regards the congrega-
tions of the Hebrews, had I not heard it regretted
by Hebrews themselves. " It is shocking," one
said. Another remarked, " To attend the syna-
gogue is looked upon too much as a matter of
If'tintas ; but perhaps there is the same spirit in
some of the Christian churches."

As to the street-Jews, religion is little known
among them, or little c:ired for. They are indif-
ferent to it — not to such a degree, indeed, as the
costemiongers, for they arc not so ignorant a
class — but yet contrasting strongly in their neglect
with the religious intensity of the majority of the
Boman Catholic Irish of the streets. In common
justice I must give the remark of a Hebrew mer-
chant with whom I had some conversation on the
subject : — *' I can't say much about street-Jews, for
my engagements lead me away from them, and I
don't know much about street-Christians. But if

oat of a hundred Jewi yon find tbat oalj tn of
them caro for their religion, how numj o«t of a
hundred Christianf of any tort will cwa aW>iit
theirs 1 Will ten of them carel If yon anawei^
but they are onW nominal Christiana, my reply ii^
the Jews are onW nominal Jews — Jewa by birth,
and not by iaith.

Among the Jews I conversed witb— and of
course only the more intelligent nndentood, or
were at all intereated in, the question — ^I heard
the most contemptuona denunciation of aU eoiiTe|tf
from Judaism. One learned infonnan^ who wag
by no means blind to the short-comingi of hit own
people, expressed his conriction that no Jew had
ever been really converttd. He had abandoned
his iaith from interested motiTea. On thia subject
I am not called upon to ezpresi any opinion, and
merely mention it to show a pretalent foeling
among the class I am deseribinff.

The street-Jews, including the nujority of the
more prosperous and most numeimu daaa among
them, the old-clothes men, are fax from bung
religious in feeling, or well Tersed in their fiaith,
and are, perhaps, in that respect on a loTel with
the mass of the members of the Chnrcb of Eng-
hmd ; I say of the Church of England, becanse
of that church the many who do not profess re-
ligion are usually accounted members.

In the Babbinical College, I may add, is the
finest Jewish library in the world. It has been
collected for soTeral generations under the cars of
the Chief Babbia The public are admit^
having first obtained tickets, giTengFatnitonslyyat
the Chief Babbi*s residence in Croriiy-squveu

Of the Politics, LnaajLTUBi, An) Aximi-
MEXTs or TBI Jswa
Pe&haps there is no people in the world, possess
ing the average amount of intelligence in busy
communities, who care so little for poUtios as the
general body of the Jews. The wealthy dasses
may take an interest in the matter, bnt I am
assured, and by those who know their oomtiymen
well, that even with them such a quality as
patriotism is a mere word. This may be ac-
counted for in a great measure, perhaps, fimm an
hereditary feeling. The Jew could hardly be ex-
pected to love a land, or to strive for the promotion
of ite general welfive, where he folt he was but a
sojourner, and where he was at the best but
tolerated and ofien proscribed. Bnt thia feelii^
becomes highly reprehensible when it extends —
as I am assured it does among many of the rich
Jews— to their own people, for whom, apart from
conventionalities, say my informant^ lAtfy cart
nothing whatevtr ; for so long as they are undis-
turbed in money-getting at home, their brethren
may be persecuted all over the world, while the
rich Jew merely shrugs his shoulders. An honour
able exception, however, existe in Sir Moses Honte-
fiore, who has honourably distinguished himself in
the relief of his persecuted brethren on more than
one occasion. The great of the earth no longer spit
upon the gabardine of the Jewish millionaire, nor
do they draw his teeth to get his money, but the
great Jew capitaliste, with powerful infloenoe in

LOND02r LABOUR AN1> TBB LONDOlf POOR.

127

many a gotetinnexit, do not seek to direct that in-
ilaenca for the bettering of the lot of their poorer
brethren, who, at the same time, hmok the re-
•tricEioni and indignities which tliey have to lulTer
with a perfect philosophy. In fact, the Jews have
often been the props of the courts who have per-
secuted them ; that is to sny, two cr three Ji-wish
firms occasionally have not hcsiutetl to lend mil-
lions to the governments by wh^m they niid tiieir
people have been systcmnticilly degraded and
oppressed.

I was told by a Hebrew gentleman (a pro-
fessional man) that so little did the Jews thorn-
selves care for " Jewish emancipation/' that he
questioned if one man in ton, actuated solely by
his own feelings, would trouble himself to walk
the length of the street in which he lived to
secure Baron Rothschild'i} admission into the House
of Commons. This aj-nthy, my inforniaut urjjed
with perfect truth, in nowise affected the merits
of the question, thoupli he wa« convinced it formed
a great obstacle to Baron Kothschild's success ;
** for governments," he said, " won't give bwns
to people who don't cnre for them ; and, though
this is called a boon, I look upon it as only a

When such is the feeling of the comparatively
wealthier Jews, no one con wonder that I found
among the Jewish street-sellers and old-clothes
men with whom I talked on the subject— and
their more influential bretliren pave me every
facility to prosecute my inquiry among them — a
perfect indifference to, and neaily as perfect an
ignorance*of, politics. Perhaps no men buy so
few newspapers, and read them so little, as the
Jews generally. The stree^trade^s, when I
alluded to the subject, said they read little but
the •* Tolice BeporU."

Among the body of the Jews there is little love ,
of Literature. They read far less (let it be re-
membered I have acquired all this information from
Jews themselves, and from men who could not be
mistaken in the matter), and are far less familiar
with English authorship, either historical or
literary, than are the poorer English artizans.
Ncithf-r do the wealthiest clnsses of the Jews
Giro to foster literature among their own people.
One author, a short time a;:o, failing to interest
the English Jews, to promote the publitation
of his work, went to the United State?, and
his book was issued in Philadelphia, the city of
Quakers I

The Amusements of the Jews — and hero I
speak more especially of the street or open-air
traders — are the theatres and concert-rooms. The
City of London Theatre, the Standard Theatre,
and other playhouses at the East-end of London,
are greatly resorted to by the Jews, and more
especially by the younger members of the body,
who sometimes constitute a rather obstreperous
g;i!!eni'. The cheap concerts which they patronize
are generally of a superior order, for the Jews
nrc fond of music, and among them have been
many eminent composers and performers, so that
the trash and jingle which delights the costermon-
ger class would not please the street Jew boys ;

hence their eoncerti are luperior to the general
nin of cheap concerts, and are almost alwayi
" got up ** by their own people.

Sussex-hall, in Leadeuhall-strcet, is chiefly mp-
pnrted by Israelites ; there the " Jews' and
General Literary and Scientific Institution" ij
established, with reading-roomi and a library;
and there lectures, concerts, &c, arc giyen as
at similar institutions. Of late, on every Friday
evening, Sussex-hall has been thrown open to
the general public, without any charge for ad-
mission, and lectures have been delivered gra-
tuitously, on literature, science, art, and
general subj'.-cts, which have attracted crowded
audiences. The lecturers are chiefly Jews, but
the lectures are neither theological nor sectarian.
The lecturers arc Air. M. II. Bresslau, the Rev.
n. II. A.^chcr, Mr. J. L. Levisou (of Brighton),
nnd Mr. Clarke, a merchant in the City, a Chris-
tian, whose lectures are very popular among the
Jews. The behaviour of the Jew attendants, and
the others, the Jews being the majority, is de-
corous. They seem "to like to receive infomm-*
tinn," I was told ; and a gentleman connected
with the hall argued that this attention thowed a
readiness for proper instruction, when given in an
attractive form, which favoured the opinion that
the young Jews, when not thrown in childhood into
the vortex of money-making, were very easily
teachable, while their natural quickness made
them both ready and willing to be taught.

My nldcluthes buying informant mentioned
a Jewish eatiiig-house. I visited one in the
Jew quarter, but saw nothing to distinguish it
from Christian resorts of the same character and
cheapness (the " plate " of good hot meat costing
Ad.j and vegetables Id.), except that it was fuller
of Jews than of Chribtiiins, by three to two, per-
haps, and that there was no *' pork" in the waiter's
specification of the fare.

Of the CuABiTirs, Schools, akd EnucATieif
OP THE Jews.

The Jewish charities are highly honourable to
the body, for they allow none of their people to live
or'dic in a parish workhouse. It is true that among
the Jews in London there are many individuals
of immense wealth ; but there are also many rich
Christians who care not one jot fur the need of
their brethren. It must be borne in mind also,
that not only do the Jews voluntarily support
their own poor and institutions, but they con-
tribute— c»»mpulsorily it is true — their quota to
the support of the English poor and church ; and,
indeed, pay their due ])roportion of all the parlia-
mentary or local imposts. This is the more
honourable and the more remarkable among tlie
Jews, when we recollect their indisputable greed
of money.

If a Jew be worn out in his old age, and
unable to maintain himself, he is either supported
by tlie contributions of his friends, or out of some
local or general fund, or provided for in some
asylum, and all tliis seems to be done with a
less than ordinary fuss and dispUiy, so that the

No. XXXIV.

128

LONDON LABOUR AND TUB LONDON POOR.

recipient of the charity feels himself more a
pensioner than a pauper.

The Jews' Hospital, in the Hile-ena Road, is an
extensive building, into which feeble old men and
destitute children of both sexes are admitted.
Here the boys nre taught trades, and the girls
qualified for respectable domestic service. The
Widows' Home, in Duke-street, Aldgate, is for
poor Hebrew widows. The Orphan Asylum,
built at the cost of Mr. A. L. Moses, and sup-
ported by subscription, now contains 14 girls
and 8 boys ; a school is attached to the asylum,
which is in the Tenter Ground, Goodman's-fields.
The Hand- in -Hand Asylum, for decayed old
people, men and women, is in Duke's-pUce, Aid-
gate. There nre likewise alms-houses for the
Jews, erected also by Mr. A. L. Moses, at Mile-
end, and other alms-houses, erected by Mr. Joel
Kmani'.el, in Wellclose-square, near the Tower.
There are, further, three institutions fur granting
marriage dowers to fatherless children ; an insti-
tution in Bevis-marks, fur the burial of the poor
of the congregation ; " Beth Holim ; " a house
for the reception of the sick poor, and of poor
lying-in women belonging to the congregation of
the Spanish and rurtuguese Jews; "Magasim
Zobim," for lending money to aid apprenticeships
among boys, to fit girls fur good domestic ser-
vice, and for helping poor children to proceed to
foreign parts, when it is believed that the change
will be advantageous to them ; and ** Noten Le-
bem Larcebiui;" to distribute bread to the poor
of the congregation on the day preceding the Sab-
bath.

I am assured that these institutions are well-
managed, and that, if the charities are abused
by being dispensed to undesenring objects, it is
nsually with the knowledge of the managers,
who often let the abuse pass, as a smaller evil
than driving a man to thcfl or subjecting him to
the chance of starvation. One gentleman, fa-
miliar with most of these establishmenU, said to
me with a laugh, " I believe, if you have had
any conversation with the gentlemen who manage
those matters, you will have concluded that they
are not the people to be imposed upon very
easily."

There are seven Jewish schools in London, four
in the city, and three at the West-end, all sup-
ported by volunLiry contributions. The Jews'
Free School, in Bell -lane, Spitalfields, is the
largest, and is adapted for the education of no
fewer than 1200 boys and girls. The hite Ba-
roness dc Rothschild provided clothing, yearly, for
all the pupils in the school. In the Infiint School,
Houndsditch, are about 400 little schobrs. There
are also the Orphan Asylum School, previously
mentioned ; the Western Jewish schools, for girls,
in Dean-street, nnd, for boys, in Greek-street,
Soho, but considered as one establishment; and
the West Metropolitan School, for girls, in Little
Queen-street, nnd, for boys, in High Holbom,
also considered as one establishment

Notwithstanding these meant of education, the
body of the poorer, or what in other callings might
be termed the working-classes, are not even tole-

rably well educated ; they are indiffsrent to the
matter. With many, the multipUcatioii table
seems to constitute what they think the acme of
all knowledge needful to a man. The ^reat
majority of the Jew boys, in the stieety cannot
read. A smaller portion can read, but so im-
perft'ctly that their ability to read detracts nothing
from their ignorance. 8o neglectfol or so neces-
sitous (but I heard the ignorance attriboted to
neglect far more frequently than necessity) are the
poorer Jews, and so soon do they take their
children away from school, '* to learn and do some-
thing for themselves," and so irregular is their
attendance, on the plea that the time cannot be
spared, and the boy must do something for him-
selt', that many children leave the free-schools not
only about as ignorant as when they entered
them, but almost with an incentive to continued
ignorance; for they knew nothiqf of reading;,
except that to acquire iu rudiments is a pain, a
hibour, and a restraint On some of the Jew
boys the vagrant spirit is strong; they leUl be
itinerants, if not wanderers, — though this is a
spirit in no way confined to the Jew boys.

Although the wealthier Jews may be induced
to give money towards the support of their poor,
I heard strong strictures passed upon them con-
cerning their indifference towards their brethren
in all other respects. Kven if they subscribed to
a school, they never cared whether or not it was
attended, and that, much as was done, fiir more
was in the power of so wealthy and distinct a
I)eopIe. " This is all the more inexcusable," was
said to me by a Jew, ** because there are so many
rich Jews in London, and if they exerted and ex-
ercised a broader liberality, as they might in in-
stituting Jewish colleges, for instance, to promote
knowledge among the middle-classes, and if they
cared more about employing their own people,
their liberality would be for more fully felt than
similar conduct in a Christian, becanse they have
a smaller sphere to influence. As to employing
their own ])copIe, there are numben of the rich
Jews who will employ any stranger in preierence.
if he work a penny a week cheaper. This sort of
clan, employment," continued my Jew informant,
" should never be exclusive, but there might, I
think, be a judicious preference."

I shall now proceed to set forth an account of
the sums yearly subscribed for purposes of educa-
tion nnd charity by the Jews.

The Jews' Free School in Spitalfields is sup-
ported by voluntary contributions to the amount of
about 1200/. yearly. To this sum a few Christians
contribute, as to some other Hebrew insUtutions
(which I shall specify), while Jews often are
liberal supporters of Christian public charities —
indeed, some of the wealthier Jews are looked
upon by the members of their own fiiith as inclined
to act more generously where Christian charities,
with the prestige of high aristocratic and fiishion-
able patronage, are in question, than towards their
own institutions. To the Jews' Free School the
Court of Common Council of the Corporation of
London hitely granted 100^., through the exertions
of Mr. Beujamm S. Phillips, of Newgate^treet, a

LONDON LABOUR AND TUB LONDON POOR.

129

member of tlie conn. The Baroneai Lionel de
Bothtchild (as I haye formerly stated of the late
Bflioness) supplies clothing for the scholars. The
sehoof is adapted for the reception of 1200 boji
and girls in equal proportion ; about 900 is the
aTemge attendimce.

The Jetirs* Infant School in IToundsditch^ with
an aTenige attendance approaching 400, is simi-
larly supported at a cost of from 800/. to 1000/.
yearly.

The Orphan Asylum School, in GfoodmanV
fields, receires a somewhat larger support, but in
the expenditure is the cost of an asylum (before
mentioned, and containing 22 inmates). The
funds are about 1500/. yearly. Christians sub-
scribe to this institution also — Mr. Frederick Feel,
M.P., taking great interest in it. The attendance
of pupils \M from 300 to 400.

It might be tedious to enumerate the other
schools, after having described the principal ; I will
merely add, therefore, that the yearly, contributions
to each are from 700/. to 1000/., and the pupils
taught in each fit>m 200 to 400. Of these further
schools there are four already specified.

The Jews' Hospital, at Mile End, is maintained
at a yearly .cost of about 3000/., to which
Christians contribute, but not to a twentieth of
the amount collected. The persons benefited are
worn-out old men, and destitute children, while
the number of almspeople is from 150 to 200
yearly.

The other two asylums, &&, which I have
specified, are maintained at a cost of about 800/.
each, as a yearly average, and the Almshouses,
three in number, at about half that sum. The
persons relieved by these last-mentioned institu-
tions number about 250, two-thirds, or there-
abouts, being in the asylums.

The Loon Societies are three: the Jewish
Ladies Visiting and Benevolent Loan Society ;
the Linniarian Loan Society (why called Linusa-
rian a learned Hebrew scholar could not inform
me, althongh he had asked the question of others) ;
and the Magaaim Zobim (the Good Deeds), a For-
tngnese JewV Loan Society.

The business of these three societies is con-
ducted on the same principle. Money is lent on
personal or any security approved by the managers,
and no interest is charged to the borrower. The
amount lent yearly is from 600/. to 700/. by «ich
society, the whole being repaid and with sufficient
punctiuility; a few weeks' " grace " is occasionally
allowed in the event of illness or any unforeseen
event The Loan Societies have not yet found it
necessary to proceed against any of their debtors ;
my informant thought this forbearance extended
over nx yean.

There it not among the Jewish street-traders,
as among the costermongers and others, a class
forming part, or having once formed part of them-
selves, and Uving by usury and loan mongering,
where they have amassed a few pounds. What-
ever maj be thought of the Jews* usurious dealings
as regards the general public, the poorer classes of
their people are not subjected to the exactions of
J, with all its clogs to a struggling man's

well-doing. Sometimes the amount required by
an old-clothes man, or other street- trader, is
obtained by or for him at one of these loan
societies. Sometimes it is advanced by the usual
buyer of the second-hand garments collected by the
street-Jew. No security in such cases is given beyond
— strange as it may sound — the personal honour
of an old-clothes man ! An experienced man told
me, that taking all the class of Jew street-sellers,
who are a very fluctuating body, with the excep-
tion of the old-clothes men, the sum thus ad-
vanced as stock-money to them might be seldom
less in any one year than 300/., and seldom more
than 500/. There is a prevalent notion that
the poorer Jews, when seeking charity, are sup-
plied with goods for street-sale by their wealthy
brethren, and never with money — this appears to
be unfounded.

Now to sum up the above items wc find that the
yearly cost of the Jewish schools is about 7000il,
supplying the means of instruction to 3000 chil-
dren (out of a population of 18,000 of ail ages,
one-half of whom, perhaps, are under 20 years).
The yearly outlay in the asylums, &c., is, it ap-
pears, 5800/. annually, benefiting or maintaining
about 420 individuals (at a cost of nearly 14/.
per head). If we add no moro than 200/. yearly
for the minor charities or institutions I have pre-
viously alluded to, we find 14,000/. expended
annually in the public schools and charities of the
Jews of London, independently of about 2000/.,
which is the amount of the loans to those requiring
temporary aid.

We have before seen that the number of
Jews in London is estimated by the best informed
at about 18,000 ; hence it would appear that the
charitable donations of the Jews of London
amount on an average to a little less than 1/. per
head. Let us compare this with the benevolence
of the Christians. At the same ratio the sum de-
voted to the charities of England and ^Valcs
should be very nearly 16,000.000/., but, accord-
ing to the roost liberal estimates, it does not
reach half that amount ; the rent of the land and
other fixed property, together with the interest
of the money left for charitable purposes in Eng-
land and Wales, is 1,200,000/. If, however, we
add to the voluntary contributions the sum raised
compulsorily by assessment in aid of the poor
(about 7,000,000/. per annum), the ratio of the
English Christian's contributions to his needy
brethren throughout the country will be very
nearly the same as that of the Jew's. Moreover,
if we turn our attention to the benevolent bequests
and donations of the Christians of London, we
shall find that their munificence does not fall far
short of that of the metropolitan Jews. The
gross amounts of the charitable contributions of
London are given below, together with the num-
bers of institutions ; and it will thus be seen that
the sum devoted to such purposes amounts to no
less than 1,764,733/., or upwards of a million and
three-quarters sterling for a population of about
two millions !

ISO

LONDON f^ADOUR AND THE LOITDOHr POOR.

Inromo Inro:ne
dirivitl citric c»l
trom volun- fn»»i
Ury ctmtii- property,
butions.
12 Grneral medical hon>itaI>. i'81/265 £111,641
fiO Medical charities fur spe-
cial purposes 27,974 08,690

S5 (ieiieral dispensaries . . 11»470 2,954

12 Preservation of life and

public morals .... 8,780 2,773
18 Beclainiing tbc fallen and

stnying the progress of

crime 16,299 13,737

14 Kelicf of general destitu-
tion and distress . . . 20,646 8,234
12 Kelief of specified dis-

tress 19,473 10,408

14 Aiding the roiourccs of

the industrious .... 4,G77 2,5G9
11 For the bliud, deaf, and

dumb 11,005 22,797

103 <Joll(>;;os, hospitals, and

other oivlums for the aged 5,S:'7 77,190
16C'huritJiblf pension societies 15,790 3,199

74 Charitable and provident,

chielly for upcciiicil chuses 10,905 83,322
31 Asylums for orphans nnd

•other nrce.<}sitoii8 children . 55,406 25,549
10 Educatinnal foundations . 15,000 7»,112
4 Charitable jnodern ditto . 4,000 9,300

40 School societies, religious

books, churcii nidin<^, and

Christian visiiiiiiTi, &c. . 150,853 153,336
35 Bible nnd missionary . . 494,41*4 0o,05S

491 Total 1,022,864 741,809

In connection with the statistical part of this
subject I may mention that the Chief Ilabbi.i each I
receive 1 20uV. a year ; the Iltoders of the Syiia- .
goguos, of whom liicre are twelve in London, from I
300/. to 400/. a year each ; the Secretaries of the '
Synagogues, of whom there are also twelve, from |
200/. to .*iOO/. each ; the twelve under Secretaries
from lOU/. to 150/. ; and six Dayanim 10i»/. a year
each. These last-nipntioned officers are looked
upon by many of the Jews, as the " poor curates"
may be by the nuMibcrs of the Church of Eng-
land — as beinjj exceedingly under-paid. The
functions of the l.>ay;inim have been already men-
tioned, nnd, I may mid, that they must have re-
ceived expensive schohirly educations, as for about
four hours daily they have to read the Talmud
in the places of worship.

The yearly payment of these sacerdotal officials,
then, independent of other outlay, amounts to
about 11.700/.; this is raised from the profits of
the seats in the synagogues and voluntary con-
tributionn, donatiim?, subscriptions, bequests,
&c., among the Jews.

I have Ix'forc spoken of a Board of Deputies,
in connection with the Jews, and now proie»*d to
describe its constitution. It is not a parliament
among the Jews, I am told, nor a governing
power, but what may be called a directing or
regukting body. It is authoriaed by the body of

Jews, and recognised by ber Majesty's GoTem-
ment, as an established corporation, with powers
to treat and determine on matters of civil and
political policy affecting the condition of the
Hebrews in this country, and interferes in no wny
ytiiYi religions matters. It is neither a metro-
politan nor a local nor a detached board, but, as
far as the Jews in England may be so described,
a national board. This board is elected tiienniallj.
The electors are the " sea^holders *' in the Jewijih
synagogues; that is to say, they belong to the class
of Jews who promote the support of the syna-
gogues by renting seats, and so paying towards
the cost of those establishments.

There are in England, Irekind, and Scotland,
about 1000 of these seat-holders exercising the
franchise, or rather entitled to exercise it, but many
of them arc inditfercnt to the privilege, as is often
testified by tiie apathy shown on the days of
election. Perhaps three-foarths of the privileged
number may vote. The serrices of the re-
presentatives are gratuitous, and no qualifica-
tion is required, but the elected are usimlly the
leading metropolitin Jews. The proportion of
the electors voting is in tho ratio of the deputies
elected. London returns 12 deputies; Liver-
pool, 2 ; Manchesu-r, 2 ; Birmingham, 2 ; Edin-
burgh, Dublin, (the only phices in either Scotland
or IrcUuid returning deputies), Dover, Portsmouth,
Southampton, Plymouth, GEUiterbory, Norwich,
Swansea, Newcastlc-on-Tyne, and two other places
(according to tho number of scat-holders), eacli
one deputy, thus nmking up the number to 30.
On election days the attendance, as I hare laid,
is often small, but fluctuating according to any
iaus.> of excitement, which, however, is but sel-
dom.

The question which has of late been discussed
by this Board, and which is now under consider-
ation, and negotmtion with the Edocation Com-
mission* rs of h ?r Majesty's Privy Council, is the
obtiinini: a grant of money in the same proportion
as it has been granted to other cdacatioiial
establishments. Nothing has as yet been given
to tiie Jewish schools, and the matter is stiU un-
determined.

With religious or sacerdotal questions the Board
of Deputies does not, oris not required to meddle; it
leaves all such matters to the bodies or tribunals I
have mentioned. Indeed the deputies concern them-
selves only with what may be called the pw^Uie
interests of the Jews, both as a part of the com-
munity and as a distiyct people. The Jewish
institutions, however, are not an exception to the
absence of unanimity among the professors of the
same creeds, for the members of the Reform Syna-
gogue in Margaret-sircct, Cavendish-square, are
not recognised as entitled to vote, and do not
vote, accordingly, in the election of the Jewish
deputies. Indeed, the Reform members, whose
synagogue was established eight years ago, were
formally excommunicated by a declaration of the
late (;hief Rabbi, but this seems now to be re-
garded as a mere niatu r of form, for the mem-
bers have lately partaken of all the rites to
which orthodox Jews are entitled.

LOyDON LABOUR AND THE LONVOIT J^OOR,

181

Or nil Fl'lTERAL CEREM05TES, FaSTS, AJKJ>
CCSTOMS OF THE JbWS.

Tm laneiml ceranonies of the Jewi are amoDg
the things which tend to preserve the distinctness
and peculiarity of this people. Sometiraet, though
now rarely, the nearest relatives of the deceased
wear sackcloth (a coarse crape), and throw ashes
and dust on their hair, for the term dnring which
the corpse remains nnbnried, this term heing the
same ns among Christians. When the corpse is
carried to the Jews' borial-gromid for interment
the coffin is frequently opened, and the corpse
addressed, in a Hebrew formula, hy any relatiTe,
friend, or acquaintance who may be present.
The words are to the following purport : " If I
hare done anything that might be ofiensive —
pardon, pardon, pardon." After that the coffin is
carried round the burial-ground in a circnit, chil-
dren chanting the 90th Psalm in its original
Hebrew, " a prayer of Moses, the man of God."
The passages which the air causes to be most
emphatic are these verses : —

"3. Thou tumest man to destruction; and
sayest. Return, ye children of men.

" 4. For a thousand years in thy sight are but
as yesterday when it is past, and as a watch in
the night.

" 6. Thou earnest them away as with a flood ;
they are as a sleep: in the morning they are like
grass which groweth up.

** 6. In the morning it flourisheth, and grow-
eth up; in the evening it is cut down, and
withereth.

"10. The days of our years ate threescore
years and ten ; and if by reason of strength they
be fourscore years, yet is their strength labour
and sorrow; for it ia soon cut off, and we fly
away."

The coffin is then carried into a tent, and the
funeral prayers, in Hebrew, arc read. When it
has been lowered into the grave, the relatives,
and indeed all the attendants at the intennent,
fill up the grave, shovelling in the earth. In the
Jews' bnriflJ-ground are no distinctions, no vaults
or provisions for aristocratic sepulture. The very
rich and the very poor, the outcast woman and the
virtuous and prosperous gentlewoman, "grossly
fiuniliar, side by side consume." A Jewish funeral
is a matter of high solemnity.

The burial fees are 12s, for children, and from
21, to 8/. for adults. These fees are not the pro-
pertr of the parties officating, but form a portion
of the synagogue funds for general purposes, pay-
ment of officers, &c. No fees are charged to the
relatives of poor Jews.

Two &sts are rigidly observed by the Jews,
and even by those Jews who are usually indi{Fe^
ent to the observances of their religion. These
are the Black Fast, in commemoration of the
destruction of Jerusalem, and the White Fast, in
commemoration of the atonement. On each of
those occasions the Jews abstain altogether from
food for 24 hours, or from sunset to sunset

Or THE Jsw Stbxxt-Shli&s oi AoooaDioirs,

ABD OT THEIR StBXKT HuBICAL PUBSUITS.

I ooHOLUDE my account of the Street- Jews with
an account of the accordion tellen.

Although the Jews, as a people, are muncal,
they are Uttle concerned at present either in the
sale of musical instruments in the streets, or in
street-music or singing. Until within a few yean,
however, the street-sale of accordions was carried
on by itinerant Jews, and had previously been
carried on most extensively in the country, even
in the fiur north of England. Some years back
well-dressed Jews "travelled" with stocks of
accordions. In many country towns and in gen-
tlemen's country mansions, in taverns, and schooUi
also, these accordions were then a novelty. The
Jew could play on the instrument, and carried a
book of instructions, which usually formed part of
the bargain, and by the aid of which, he made out,
any one, even without previous knowledge of the
practical art of music, could easily teach himself
— nothing but a little practice in fingering being
wanted to make a good accordion-player. At first
the accordions sold by the Jew hawkers were
good, two guineas being no unusual price to be
paid for one, even to a street-seller, while ten and
twenty shillings were the lower charges. But the
accordions were in a few years "made slop,"
cheap instruments being sent to this country from
Germany, and sold at less than half their former
price, until the charge fell as low as 8«. 6d, or even
2g. 6rf.— but only for "rubbish," I was told.
When the firagility and inferior musical qualities
of these instruments came to be known, it waf
found almost impossible to sell in the streets even
superior instruments, however reasonable in price,
and thus the trade sunk to a nonentity. So little
demand is there now for these instruments that no
pawnbroker, I am assured, will advance money on
one, however well made.

The itinerant accordion trade was always much
greater in the country than in London, for in
town, I was told, fcw would be troubled to try, or
even listen, to the tones of an accordion played by
a street-seller, at their own doors, or in their
houses. While there were 100 or 120 Jews
hawking accordions in the country, there would
not be 20 in London, including even the suburbs,
where the sale was the best.

Calculating that, when the trade was at its best,
130 Jews hawked accordions in town and
country, and that each sold three a week, at an
average price of 20<. dach, or six in a week at an
average price of 10«. each, the profit being from
60 to 100 per cent., we find upwards of 20,000/.
expended in the course of the year in accordions
of which, however, little more than a sixth part, or
about 8000/., was expended in London. This wai
only when the trade had all the recommendations
of novelty, and in the following year perhaps not
half the amount was realized. One informant
thought that the year 1828-9 was the best for the
sale of these instruments, but he spoke only firom
memory. At the present time I could not find or
hear of one street- Jew telling accordions ; I re-

182

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

member, however, having seen one within the
present year. Most of uc Jewf who tniTelled
with them have emigrated.

It is very rarely indeed that, fond as the Jews
are of music, any of them are to be fonnd in the
bands of street-musicians, or of such stree^per-
formers as the Ethiopian serenaders. If there be
any, I was told, they were probably not pure
Jews, but of Christian parentage on one side or
the other, and not associating with their own
people. At the cheap concert-rooms, however,
Jews are frequently singers, but rarely the
Jewesses, while some of the twopenny concerts
at the East-end are got up and nuiiuly patron-
ized by the poorer class of Jews. Jews are also
to be found occasionally among the supemume<
rarics of the theatres ; but, when not professionally
engaged, these still live among their own people.
I asked one young Jew who occationaily sang at
a cheap concert-room, what description of songs
they usually sung, and he answered " all kinds."
He, it seems, sang comic songs, but his friend
Barney, who had just left him, sang sentimental
songs. He earned Is. and sometimes 2*., bat
more frequently 1«., three or four nights in the
week, as he had no regular engagement. In the
daytime he worked at cigar-makings but did not
like it, it was " to confining.'* He bad likewise
sung, but gratuitously, at concerts got up for the
benefit of any person " bad off." He knew nothing
of the science and art of music. Of the superior
cUss of Jew vocalists and composers, it is not of
course necessary here to speak, as they do not
come within the scope of my present subject Of
Hebrew youths thus employed in cheap and de-
sultory concert-singing, there are in the winter
season, I am told, from 100 to 150, few, if any,
depending entirely upon their professional exer-
tions, but being in circumstances similar to those
of my young informant.

Of thb Street-Bctkrs op Hogs'-Wash.
The trade in hogs'-wasb, or in the refuse of the
table, is by no means insignificant The street-
buyers arc of the costermonger class, and some of
them have been costermongers, and " when not
kept going regular on wash," I was told, are
" costers still," but with the advantage of having
donkeys, ponies, or horses and carts, and fre-
quently shops, as the majority of the wash-buyers
have ; for they are often greengrocers as well as
costermongers.

The hogs' food obtained by these street-folk,
or, as I most frequently heard it called, the
" wash," is procured from the eating-houses, the
coffee-houses which are also eating-houses (with
" hot joinU from 12 to 4 "), the hotels, the club-
houses, the lai^er mansions, and the public insti-
tutions. It is composed of the scum and lees of
all broths and soups ; of the washings of cooking
utensils, and of the dishes and plates used at
dinners and suppers ; of small pieces of meat left
on the plates of the diners in taverns, clubs, or
cook-shops ; of pieces of potato, or any remains of
vegetables ; of any viands, such as puddings, left
in the plates in the same manner; of gristle; of

pieces of stale bretd, or bread left at table ; ooea-
sionally of meat kept, whether cooked or un-
cooked, until "blown," and unfit for connunp-
tion (one man told me that he had found whole
legs of mutton in the wash he bought firom a
great eating-house, but very nuely) : of potato-
peelings ; of old and bad potatoes ; of " stock/ or
the remains of meat stewed for soup^ which waa
not good enough for sale to be re-naed by the
poor; of parings of every kind of cheese or
meat ; and of the many things which are con-
sidered " only fit for pigs.**

It is not always, however, that the nnconiumed
food of great houses or of public bodies (where the
dinners are a part of the institution) goes to the
wash-tub. At Buckingham-palace, I am told, it
is given to poor people who have tickets for the
receipt of it At Lincoln's-inn the refuse or
leavings of the bar dinners are aold to men who
retail them, usually small chandlers, and the poor
people, who have the means, buy this broken
meat very readily at id., 6(/., and Sd, the pound,
which is cheap for good cooked meat Fie-cnist,
obtained by its purveyors in the same way, is
sold, perhaps with a small portion of the contenta
of the pie, in penny and twopenny-worths. A
man familiar with this trade told me that among
the best customers for this kind of second-hand
food were women of the town of the poorer chiss,
who were always ready, whenever they had a
few pence at command, to buy what was tasty,
cheap, and ready-cooked, because "they hadn't
no trouble with it, but only just to eat it"

One of the principal sources of the "wash"
supply is the cook-shops, or eating-houses, where
the " leavings " on the plates are either the per-
quisites of the waiters or waitresses, or looked
sharply after by master or mistress. There are
also in these places the remaius of soups, and the
potato-peelings, &c, of which I have spoken,
together with the keen appropriation to a profit-
able use of ever}' crumb and scrap — when it is a
portion of the gains of a servant, or when it adds
to the receipts of the proprietor. In calculating
the purchase-value of the good-will of an eating-
house, the " wash " is as carefully considered as is
the number of daily guests.

One of the principal street-buyers from the j
eating-houses, and in several puts of town, is
Jemmy Divine, of Lambeth. He is a pig-dealer,
but also sells his wash to others who keep pigs.
He sends round a cart and horse under the care
of a boy, or of a man, whom he may have em-
ployed, or drives it himself, and he often has more
carts than one. In his cart are two or three tubs,
well secured, so that they may not bejostled out,
into which the wash is deposited. He contracu
by the week, month, or quarter, with hotel-keepers
and others, for their wash, paying from 10/. to as
high as 50/. a year, about 20/. being an average
for well-frequented taverns and "dining-rooms."
The wash-tubs on the premises of these buyers
are often offensive, sometimes sending forth very
sour smells.

In Sharp*s-alley, Smithfield, is another man
buying quantities of wash, and buying &t and

LONDON LABOUR AND TUB LONDON POOR.

188

I eztennvely. There U one alio in PrinceV
•tnet, Lambeth, who makes it hii lole buaineu
to eoUeet hogt'-waah ; he was formerly a coal-
heater and wretchedly poor, but is now able to
make a decent livelihood in this trade, keeping a
pony and cart He generally keeps abont 80
pigs, but also sells hogs' food retail to any pig-
keeper, the price being Ad. to Qd, a pail-full, ac-
cording to the quality, as the collectors are always
anxious to have the wash '* rich," and will not
buy it if cabbage-leaves or the parings of green
vegetables form a part of it This man and the
others often employ lads to go round for wash,
piying them 2s. a week, and finding them in board.
They are the same dass of boys as those I have
described as coster-boys, and* are often strong
young ffiUowt. These kds — or men hired for the
purpose— lare sometimes sent round to the smaller
cook-shops and to private houses, where the wash is
given to them for the trouble of carrying it away,
in preference to its being thrown down the drain.
Sometimes only Id. a pail is paid by the street-
buyer, provided the stuff be taken away punctually
and rwularly. These youths or men carry paiU
after the fiuldon of a milkman.

The snpply from the workhouses is very large.
It is often that the paupers do not eat all the
rioe^udding allowed, or all the bread, while soup
is frequently left, and potatoes ; and these leavings
are worthies, except for pig-meat, as they would
toon torn sour. It is the same, though not to the
same extent^ in the prisons.

What I have said of some of the larger eating-
houses relates also to the club-houses.

There are a number of wash-buyers in the
suburbs, who purchase, or obtain their stock gra-
tuitously, at gentlemen's houses, and retail it
either to those who feed pigs as a business, or
else to the many, I was told, who live a little
vray out of town, and " like to grow their own
bacon.'* Many of these men perform the work
themselves, without a horse and cart, and are on
their feet every day and all day long, except on
Sundays, carrying hogs'-wash from the seller, or to
the buyer. One man, who had been in this trade
at Woolwich, told me that he kept pigs at one
time, but ceased to do so, as his customers often
murmured at the thin quality of the wash, declar-
ing that he gave all the best to his own animals.

If it be estimated that there are 200 men daily
buying hogsT-wash in London and' the suburbs,
within 15 mika, and that each coUecU only 20
pails per day, paying 2d, per pail (thus allowing
for what is collected without purchase), we find
lO,iW)L expended annually in buying hogs'-wash.

Of THB Stbbet-Butebs OF Tea-Leaves.
Ah extensive trade, but less extensive, I am in-
formed, than it was a few years ago, is carried on
in tea4eaves, or in the leaves of the herb after
their having been subjected, in the usual way, to
decoction. These leaves are, so to speak, re-
niamifiKtared, in spite of great risk and frequent
exposure, and in defiance of the kw. The 17th
Geo. III., c. 29, if positive and stringent on the
subject: —

** Bvery person, irhether a dealer in or seller
of tea, or not, who shall dye or fiibricate any sloe-
leaves, liquorice-leaves or the leaves qf Ua that
have been used, or the leaves of the ash, elder or
other tree, shrub or plant, in imitation of tea, or
who shall mix or colour such leaves with tena
Japonica, copperas, sugar, molasses, clay, logwood
or other ingredient, or who shall sell or expose to
sale, or have in custody, any such adulterations
in imitation of tea, shall for every pound forfeit,
on conviction, by the oath of one witness, before
one justice, 61. ; or, on non-payment, be committed
to the House of Correction for not more than
twelve or less than six months."

The same act also authorizes a magistrate, on the
oath of an excise officer, or any one, by whom he
suspects this illicit trade to be carried on, to seize
the herbs, or spurious teas, and the whole appa-
ratus that may be found on the premises, the
herbs to be burnt and the other articles sold, the
proceeds of such a sale, after the payment of ex-
penses, going half to the informer and half to the
poor oif the parish.

It appears evident, from the words of this act
which I have italicised, that the use of tea-leaves
for the robbery of the public and the defrauding
of the revenue has been long in practice. The
extract also shows what other cheats were formerly
resorted to — the substitutes most popular with the
tea-manufacturers at one time being sloe-leaves. If,
however, one-tenth of the statements touching tlie
applications of the leaves of the sloe-tree, and of the
juice of its sour, astringent finiit, during the war-
time, had any foundation in truth, the sloe must
have been regarded commercially as one of the
most valuable of our native productions, supplying
our ladies with their tea, and our gentlemen with
their port-wine.

Women and men, three-fourths of the number
being women, go about buying tea-leaves of the
female servants in the larger, and of the shop-
keepers' wives ill the smaller, houses, ^ut the
great purveyors of these things arc the char-
women. In the booses where they char the tea-
leaves are often reserved for them to be thrown on
the carpets when swept, as a means of allaying the
dust, or else they form a part of their perquisites,
and are often asked for if not offered. The mis-
tress of a coffco-shop told mo that her charwoman,
employed in cleaning every other morning, had
the tea-leaves as a part of her remuneration, or as
a matter of course. What the charwoman did
with them her employer never inquired, although
she was always anxious to obtain them, and she
referred me to the poor woman in question. I
found her in a very clean apartment on the second
floor of a decent house in Somers-town ; a strong
hale woman, with what may be called an indus-
trious look. She was middle-aged, and a widow,
with one daughter, then a nursemaid in the neigh-
bourhood, and had regular employment

" Tes/' she said, *' I get the tea-leaves when-
ever I can, and the most at two coffee-shops that
I work at, but neither of them have so many as
they used to have. I think it 's because cocoa *s
come so much to be asked for in them, nnd so

IM

L02^D0ir LABOUR AND TSS LONDOIT POOL

OF THE STREET-FINDERS OR COLLECTORS.

Thibb men, for by &r the gteat majority are men,
may be divided, according to the nature of their
occnpationi, into three rliiiri : —

1. The bone-gmbben and rag-gatheren, who
are^ indeed, the same indiTidoals, the pure-finden^
and the cigar-end and old wood oollecton.

2. The dredgeODen, the mud-larkj, and the
lewer-hontert.

8. The duatmen and nightmen, the sweepa and
the icaTengNi.

The fint daM go abroad daily to Jind in the
ttreets, and carry away with them such thbgt aa
bones, ragi, " pore " (or dqgf*-dung), which no one
appropriate!. These they sell, and on that sale
support a wretched life. The second class of
people are also as strictly Jinden ; but their in-
dustry, or ather their labour, is confined to the
river, or to that subterranean dty of sewemge
Nnto which the Thames supplies the great outleu.
These persons may not be immediately connected
with the ttrtett of Loudon, but their pursuits are
carried on in the open air (if the sewer-air may
be so included), and are all, at any rate, out^f-
door arocations. The third class is distinct from
either of these, as the Ubourers comprised in it
are not finders, but coUecton or rtmovtrt of the
dirt and filth of our streets and houses, and of the
foot of our chimneys.

The two fint classes also dififer firam the third
Sn the fact that the sweeps, dustmen, scavengers,
&c, are pnid (and often large sums) for the re-
moval of the refuse they collect; whereas the
bone-grubbers, and mud-larks, and pure-finders,
and dredgermen, and sewer-hunters, get for their
pains only the value of the articles they gather.

Herein, too, lies a broad distinctiod between the
atreet-finder, or collector, and the street-buyer:
though both deal principally with refuse, the
buyer pays for what he is permitted to take away;
whereas the finder or collector is either paid (like
the sweep), or else he neither pays nor is paid
(like the bone-grubber), for the refuse that he
removes.

Tlie third class of street-collectors also presents
another and a markedly distinctive characteristic.
They act in the capacity of servants, and do not
depend upon chance for the result of their day's
labour, but are put to stated tasks, being employed
and paid a fixed sum for their work. To this
description, however, some of the sweeps present an
exception ; as when the sweep works on his own
account, or, as it is worded, ** is his own master."

The public health requires the periodical clean-
ing of the streets, and the removal of the refuse
matter from our dwellings ; and the man who con-
tracts to carry on this work is decidedly a street-
collector ; for on what be collects or removes depends
the amount of his remuneration. Thus a wealthy
contractor for the public scavengery, is as entirely
one of the street^folk as the unskilled and ig-
norant labourer he employs. The master lives.

and, in numy instances, has become rich, on the
results of hu street employment; for, of course,
the actual workmen are but as the agents or
sources of his profit. Bven the coUection of
"pure" (dogs'-dung) in the streeu, if conducted
by the servants of any tanner or leather dresser,
either for the purposes of his own trade or for
saie to othen, might be the occupation of a wealthy
man, deriving a small profit from the labour of
each particular collector. The same may also be
said of bone-grubbing, or any similar occupation,
however insignificant, and now abandoned to the
outcast.

Were the collection of mud and dust carried on
by a number of distinct individmls tiint is to
say, were each individual dustman and scavenger
to collect on his own account, there is no doubt
that no one flaaa could amass a fortune by such
means — while if the collection of bones and rags
and even dogt'-dung were earned on '* in the large
way," that Is to say, by a number of individual
coUecton working for one " head man," even the
picking up of the most abject refuse of the metro-
polis might become the source of great riches.

The bone-grubber and the mud-lark (the
searcher for refuse on the banks of the river)
differ little in their pursuits or in their character-
istics, excepting that the mud-larks are generally
boys, which is more an accidental than a definite
distinction. The grubben are with a few excep-
tions stupid, unconscious of their degradation, and
with little anxiety to be relieved from it. They
are usually taciturn, but this taciturn habit is
common to men whose callings, if they cannot be
called solitary, are pursued with little communi-
cation with others. I was informed by a man
who once kept a little beer-shop near Friar-street,
Southwark Bridge-road (where then and still, he
thought, was a bone-grinding establishment), that
the bone-grubbers who carried their sacks of bones
thither sometimes had a pint of beer at his house
when they had received their money. They
usually sat, he told me, silently looking at the
comen of the floor — for they rardy lifted their
eyes up — as if they were expecting to see some bones
or refuse there available for their bags. Of this
inertion, perhaps fatigue and despair may be a
port. I asked some questions of a man of tliis
class whom I saw pick up in a road in the suburbs
something that appeared to have been a coarse
canvas apron, although it was wet afler a night's
rain and half covered with mud. I inquired of
him what he thought about when he trudged along
looking on the ground on every side. His answer
was, " Of nothing, sir." I believe that no better
description could be given of tliat vacuity of mind
or mental inactivity which seems to form a part
of the most degraded callings. The minds of such
men, even without an approach to idiotcy, appear
to be a blank. One characteristic of these poor
fellows, bone-grubben and mud-brks, is that they

LONDON LABOUR AND TBB LONDON PWM.

pel

are very poor, althongb I am told ■ome of Uiem,
the older men, have among the poor the reputa-
tion of being misers. It if not unusnal for the
youths belonging to these callings to live with
their parents and give them the amount of their
earnings.

The sewer-hunters are again distinct, and a fiir
more intelligent and adventurous class ; bat they
work in gangs. They must be fiuniliar with the
course of the tides, or they might be drowned at
high water. They must hare quick eyes too, not
merely to descry the objects of their search, but
to mark the points and bearings of the subterra-
neoufl roads they traverse; in a word, "to know
their way underground." There is, moreover,
some spirit of daring in venturing into a dork,
solitary sewer, the chart being only in the memory,
and in braving the possibility of noxious vapours,
and the by no means insignificant dangers of the
rats infesting these places.

The dredlgermen, the finders of the water, are
again distinct, as being watermen, and working in
boats. In some foreign parts, in Naples, for in-
stance, men carrying on similar pursuits are also
divers for anything lost in the bay or its confluent
waters. One of these men, known some years
ago as " the Fish," could remain (at least, so say
those whom there is no reason to doubt) three
hoars under the water tidthout rising to the sur-
face to take breath. He was, it is said, web-
footed, naturally, and partially web-fingered. The
King of the Two Sicilies once threw a silver cap
into the sea for " the Fish " to bring up and retain
as a reward, but the poor diver was never seen
again. It was believed that he got entangled
among the weeds on the rocks, and so perished.
The dredgermen are necessarily well acquainted
with the sets of the tide and the course of
the currents in the Thames. Every one of
these men works on his own account, being as it
were a " small master," which, indeed, is one of
the great attractions of open-air pursuits. The
dredgermen also depend for their maintenance
upon the nie of what they find, or the rewards
they receive.

It is otherwise, however, as was before observed,
with the third class of the street-finders, or rather
collectors. In all the capacities of dustmen,
nightmen, scavengers, and sweeps, the employers
of the men are paid to do the work, the proceeds
of the street-oollection forming only a portion of
the employer's remimcration. The sweep has the
soot in aiddition to his 6d or I5.; the master
scavenger has a payment from the parish funds to
sweep the streets, though the clearance of the
cesspools, &&, in private houses, may be an in-
dividual bargain. The whole refuse of the
streets belongs to the contractor to make the best
of, but it must be cleared away, and so must the
contents of a dust-bin ; for if a uuus of dirt become
oflensire, the householder may be indicted for a
nuisance, and municipal by-laws require its re-
moval It is thus made a matter of compulsion
that the dust be removed from a private house ;
but it is otherwise with the soot Why a man
should be permitted to let toot accumulate in his

chimney — perhaps exposing hisMel^ liis fiunily,
his lodgers, and hii neighbours to the dangers of
fire, it may not be easy to account for, esj^dally
when we bear in mind th%^ the same man may not
accumulate cabbage-leaves and fish-tails in his yard.

The dustmen are of the plodding class of labour-
ers, mere labourenL who require only bodily
power, and possess little or no mental d«inlop-
ment. Many of the agricnltuial hibourers are of
this order, and the dustman often seems to be the
stolid ploughman, modified by a residence in a
city, and engaged in a peculiar calling. They are
generally uninformed, and no few of them are
dustmen because their fathers were. The same
may be said of nightmen and scavengers. At one
time it was a popular, or rathar a Tolgar notion
that nmnjb dustmen had become possessed of largo
sums, from the plate, coins, and valuables they
found in clearing the dus^bins — a nuBifest
absurdity; but I was told by ft marine-store
dealer that ho had known a young woman, a
dustman's daughter, sell silver spoons to a neigh-
bouring marine-store man, who was "not very
particular."

The circumstances and character of the chimney-
sweeps have, since Parliament " put down " the
climbing boys, undergone considerable change.
The su^rings of many of the climbing boys wero
very great They were often ill-lodged, ill-fed,
barely-dad, forced to ascend hot and narrow flues,
and subject to diseases — such as the chimney-
sweeps cancer — peculiar to their calling. The
child hated his trade, and was easily tempted to
be a thief, for prison was an asylimi ; or he grew
up a morose tyrannical fellow as journeyman or
master. Some of the young sweeps became very
bold thieves and house-brc^ikers, and the most
remarkable, as fiir as personal daring is concerned :
the boldest feat of escape from Newgate was per-
formed by a youth who had been brought up a
chimney-sweep. lie climbed up the two bare
rugged walls of a comer of the interior of the
prison, in the open air, to the height of some 60
feet Ue had only the use of his hands, knees^
and feet, and a single slip, from fear or pain,
would have been death ; he surmounted a parapet
after this climbing, and gained the roof, but was
recaptured before he could get clear away. He
was, moreover, a sickly, and reputed a cowardly,
young man, and ended his career in this country
by being transported.

A ma!iter sweep, now in middle age, and a man
" well to do," told me that when a mere child he
had been apprenticed out of the workhouse to a
sweep, such being at that time a common occurrence.
He had undergone, he said, great hardships while
learning his business, and was long, from the in-
different character of his class, ashamed of being
a sweep, both as journeyman and master ; but the
sweeps were so much improved in character now,
that he no longer felt himself disgraced in hit
calling.

The sweeps are more intelligent than the mere
ordinary labourers I have written of under this
head, but they are, of course, ist from being an
educated body.

1*

LONDON LABOUR AND TUB LONDON POOR.

The fadier and more minnte cbaracteriitici of
the cnrioni claM of itreet-finden or colleeton will
be fbttnd in the particular detaili and statements.

Among the finders there is perhaps the greatest
poTerty existing, they being the Tery lowest class
of idl the street-people. Many of the Tory old
live on the hard dirty cmsta they pick up out of
the roads in the course of their rounds, washing
them and steeping them in water before they eat
them. Probably that racuity of mind which is a
distinguishing feature of the class is the mere
Atony or emaciation of the mental fiwulties pro-
ceeding from — though often producing in the want
of energy that it necessarily begets — the extreme
wretchedness of the cUss. But even their liberty
and a crust— as it frequently literally is — appears
preferable to these people to the restdctions of
the workhouse. Those who are unable to com-
prehoKl the inertia of both body and mind be-
gotten by the despair of long-continued misfortune
are referred to page 357 of the first volume of this
work, where it will be found that a tinman, in
speaking of the misery connected with the early
part of his street-career, describes the effect of
extreme want as producing not only an absence of
all hope, but even of a desire to better the con-
dition. Those, however, who have studied the
mysterious connection between body and mind,
and observed what different creatures they them-
aelves are before and after dinner, can well under-
stand that a long-continued deficiency of food
must have the same weakening effiect on the muscles
of the mind and energy of the thoughts and will,
as it has on the limbs themselves.

Occasionally it will be found that the utter
abjectness of the bone-grubbers has arisen from
the want of energy begotten by intemperate
habits. The workman has nothing but this same
energy to live upon, and the permanent effect of
stimulating liquors is to produce an amount of de*
pression corresponding to the excitement momen-
tarily caused by them in the frame. The operative,
therefore, who spends his earnings on^ ** drink,"
not only squanders them on a brutalising luxury,
but deprives himself of the power, and conse-
quently of the disposition, to work for more, and
hence that idleness, carelessness, and neglect which
are the distinctive qualities of the drunkard,
and sooner or later compass his ruin.

For the poor wretched children who are reared
to this the lowest trade of all, surely even the
most insensible and unimaginative must feel the
acutest pity. There is, however, this consolation :
I have heard of none, with the exception of the
more prosperous sewer-hunters and dredgermen,
who have remained all their lives at street-finding.
Still there remains much to be done by all those
who are impressed with a sense of the trust that
has been confided to them, in the possession of those
endowments which render their lot in this world
BO much more easy than that of the less lucky
street-finders.

Eone-Gbubbebs and Bag-Gatherbbs.
Thb habits of the bone-grubbers and rag-gather-
ers, the " pure,"* or dogs'-dung collectors, and the

cigar^nd finders, are necessarily similar. All
lead a wandering, unsettled sort of Ufe^ being
compelled to be continually on foot, and to ttav^
nuiny miles every day in search of the artidet in
which they deal They seldom have any fixed
pkce of abode, and are mostly to be found at
night in one or other of the low lodgixig-honses
throughout London. The majority are, moreover,
persons who have been brought up to other em-
ployments, but who from some &iling or mishap
have been reduced to such a state of distress that
they were obliged to take to their present occupa-
tion, add have never after been able to get away
from it

Of the whole class it is considered that there
are from 800 to 1000 resident in London, one-
half of whom, at the least, sleep in the cheap
lodging-houses. The Government returns esti-
mate the number of mendicants' lodgin^houscs
in London to be upwards of 200. Allowing two
bone-grubbers and pure-finders to frequent each
of these lodging-houses, there will be upwards of
400 availing themselves of such nightly shelters.
As many more, I am told, live in garrets and
ill-furnished rooms in the lowest neighbourhoods.
There is no instance on record of any of the class
renting even the smallest house for himselt

Moreover there are in London daring the
winter a number of persons called "trampers,"
who employ themselves at that season in street-
finding. These people are in the summer country
labourers of some sort, but as soon as the harvest
and potato-getting and hop-picking are over, and
they can find nothing else to do in the country,
they come back to London to avail themselves of
the shelter of the night asylums or refuges for the
destitute (usually atlled ''straw-yards" by the
poor), for if they remained in the provinces nt
that period of the year they would be forced to
have recourse to the miions, and as they can only
stay one night in each place they would be
obliged to travel from ten to fifteen miles per
day, to which in the winter they have a strong
objection. They come up to London in the
winter, not to look for any regular work or em-
ployment, but because they know that they can
have a nightly shelter, and bread night and
morning for nothing, during that season, and can
during the day collect bones, rags, &c. As soon
as the "straw-yards" close, which is generally
about the beginning of April, the *'trampers"
again start off to the country in small bands of
two or three, and without any fixed residence
keep wandering about all the summer, sometimes
begging their way through the villages and sleep-
ing in the casual wards of the unions, and some-
times, when hard driven, working at hay-making
or any other light labour.

Those among the bone-grubbers who do nut
belong to the regular "trampers" have been
either navvies, or men who have not been able
to obtain employment at their own business, and
have been driven to it by necessity as a means of
obtaining a little bread for the time being, and
without any intention of pursuing the calling
regularly; but, as I have said, when once in the

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR,

189

bajineM they cannot leave it, for at least they
make certain of getting a few halfpence by it, and
their present necessity does not allow them time
to look after other employment There are many
of the street-finders who are old men and women,
and many yery young children who have no other
means of living. Since the fiunine in IreUnd
vast numbers of that unfortunate people, particu-
larly boys and girls, have been engaged in gather-
ing bones and rags in the streets.

The bone-picker and rag-gatherer may be known
at once by the greasy bag which he carries on his
back. Usually he has a stick in his hand, and
this is armed with a spike or hook, for the pur-
pose of more easily turning over the heaps of
n«hes or dirt that are thrown out of the housesi,
nnd discovering whether they contain anything
that is saleable at the ragand-bottle or marine-
store shop. The bone-grubber generally seeks out
the narrow back streets, where dust and refuse
are cast, or where any dust-bins are accessible.
The articles for which he chiefly searches are rags
and bones— rags he prefers — but waste metal,
such as bits of lead, pewter, copper, brass, or old
iron, he prizes above all. Whatever he meets
with that ho knows to be in any way saleable he
puts into the bag at his back. He often finds large
lump* of bread which have been thrown out as
waste by the servants, and occasionally the house-
keepers will give him some bones on which there
is a little meat remaining; these constitute the
morning meal of most of the class. One of my
informants had a large rump of beef bone given to
him a few days previous to my seeing him, on
which "there was not less than a pound of
meat."

The bone-pickers and rag-gatherers are all early
risers. They have all their separate beats or dis-
tricts, and it is most important to them that they
should reach their district before any one else of
the same class can go over the ground. Some of
the beats lie as far as Peckham, Clapham, Ham-
mersmith, Hampstead, Bow, Stratford, and indeed
all parts within about five miles of London. In
summer time they rise at two in the morning,
and sometimes earlier. It is not quite light at
this hour— but bones and rags can be diKovered
before daybreak. The "grubbers" scour all
quarters of London, but abound more particu-
larly in the suburbs. In the neighbourhood of
Petticoat-lane and Ragfair, however, they are the
most numerous on account of the greater quantity
of rags which the Jews have to throw out. It
usually takes the bone-picker from seven to nine
hours to go over his rounds, during which time
he travels from 20 to 30 miles with a quarter
to a half hundredweight on his back. In the
summer be usually reaches home about eleven
of the day, and in the wmter about one or two.
On his return home he proceeds to sort the con-
tents of his bag. He separates the rags from the
bones, and these again from the old metal (if he
be ludcy enough to have found any). He divides
the rags into various lots, according as they are
white or coloured ; and if he have picked up any
pieces of canvas or sacking, he makes these alio

into a separate parcel. When he hat finished
the sorting he takes his several lots to the rag-
shop or the marine-store dealer, and realises vpOK
them whatever they may be worth. For the
white rags ho gets from 2d. to 3^ per pound,
according as they are clean or soiled. The white
rags are very difficult to be found ; they are mostly
very dirty, and are therefore sold with the coloured
ones at the rate of about 5 lbs. for 2d. The
bones are usually sold with the coloured ngi
at one and the same price. For fragments of
canvas or sacking the grubber gets about three-
farthings a pound; and old brass, copper, and
pewter about id, (the marine-store keepers say
5t/.), and old iron one farthing per pound, or six
pounds for 1(^. The bone-grubber thinks he has
done an excellent day's work if he can earn 8cZ.;
nnd some of them, especially the very old and the
very young, do not earn more than from 2d. to
Zd. a day. To make \0d, a day, at the present
price of rags and bones, a man must be remark-
ably active and strong, — " ay ! and lucky, too,"
adds my informant. The average amount of earn-
ings, I am told, varies from about 6(/. to M. per
day, or from 3«. to 4s. a week ; and the highest
amount that a man, the most brisk and persevering
at the business, con by any possibility earn in
one week is about 5s., but this can only be accom-
plished by great good fortune and industry — the
usual weekly gains are about half that sum. In
bad weather the bone-grubber cannot do so well,
because the rags are wet, and then they cannot
sell them. The majority pick up bones only in
wet weather; those who do gather rags during
or after rain are obliged to wash and dry them
before they can sell them. The state of the
shoes of the rag and bone-picker is a very import-
ant matter to him ; for if he be well shod he can
get quickly over the ground ; but he is frequently
lamed, and unable to make any progress from the
blisters and gashes on his feet, occasioned by the
want of proper shoes.

Sometimes the bone-grubbers will pick up a
stray sixpence or a shilling that has been dropped
in the street. " The handkerchief I have round
my neck," said one whom I saw, " I picked up
with Is. in the corner. The greatest prize I
ever found was the brass cap of the nave of a
coach- wheel ; and I did once find a quarter of a
pound of tobacco in Sun-street, Bisbopsgaie. The
best bit of luck of all that I ever had was finding
a cheque for 12/. 16#. lying in the gateway of the
mouming<oach yard in Titchbome-street, Hay-
market I was going to light my pipe with it,
indeed I picked it up for that purpose, and then
saw it was a cheque. It was on the London and
County Bank, 21, Lombard-sUeet I took it
there, and got lOs. for finding it. I went there
in my rags, as I am now, and the cashier stared
a bit at me. The cheque was drawn by a Mr.
Knibb, and payable to a Mr. Cox. I did think I
should have got the odd 15s. though."

It has been stated that the average amount of
the earnings of the bone-pickers is 6(/. per day, or
8«. per week, being 7/. 16s. per annum for each
person. It has also been rhown that the number

140

LONDON LABOUR AND THB LONDON POOR.

of penoni engiged in the basinets may be esti-
mated at about 800 ; hence the earnings of the
entire number will amonnt to the smn of 201, per
day, or 120^. per week, which gires 6240/. as the
annual earnings of the bone>pickers and rag-

Stherers of lH>ndon. It may also be computed
ftt each of the grubben sathers on an aTerage
20 lbs. weight of bone and ngs ; and reckoning
the bones to constitute three-fourths of the entire
weight, we thus find that the gross quantity of
these articles gathered by the stree^finders in the
course of the year, amounts to 3,744,000 lbs. of
bonee, and 1,240,000 lbs. of rags.

Between the London and St. Kathenne's Docks
and Rosemary Lane, there is a large district inter-
laced with narrow lanes, courts, and alleys rami-
fying into each other in the most intricate and dis-
orderly manner, insomuch that it would be no
easy matter for a stranger to work his way through
the interminable confusion without the aid of a
guide, resident in and well conversant with the
Mcolity. The houses ore of the poorest deKription,
and seem as if they tumbled mto their places at
random. Foul channels, huge dust-heaps, and a
Tariety of other unsightly objects, occupy erery
open space, and dabbling among these are crowds
of ragged dirty children who grub and wallow, as if
in their native clement None reside in these phices
but the poorest and most wretched of the popula-
tion, and, as might almost be expected, this, the
cheapest and filthiest locality of London, is the
head-quarters of the bone-grubben and other
street-finders. I have ascertained on the best au-
thority, that from the centre of this place, within
a circle of a mile in diameter, there dwell not
less than 200 persons of this class. In this quarter
I found a bone-grubber who gaye me the following
account of himself : —

" I was born in Liverpool, and when about 14
years of age, my father died, lie used to work about
the Docks, and I used to nm on errands for any
person who wanted me. I managed to live by
this afier my father's death for three or four
years. I had a brother older than myself, who
went to France to work on the railroads, and when
I was about 18 he sent for me, and got me to work
with himself on the Paris and Rouen Railwny,
under McKenzie and Brassy, who had the con-
tract I worked on the railroads in France for
four years, till the disturbance broke out, and then
we all got notice to leave the country. I lodged
at that time with a countryman, and had 12/.,
which I had saved out of my earnings. This sum
I gave to my countryman to keep for me till we got
to London, as I did not like to have it about me,
for fear I 'd lose it The French people paid our
fiire from Rouen to Havre by the railway, and
there put us on board a steamer to Southampton.
There was about 60 of us altogether. When
we got to Southampton, we all went before the
mayor; we told him about how we had been
driven out of France, and he gave us a shilling a
piece ; he sent some one with us, too, to get us a
lodging, and told us to come again the next day.
In the morning the mayor gave every one who
waf able to walk half-arcrown, and for those who

were not able he paid their fiire to London on tl-.e
railroad. I had a sore leg at the tine, and I came
up by the trdn, and when I gate np nr ticket at
the station, the gentleflttn gftve ne a aUuing more.
I couldn't find the man I had given my money to,
because he had walked up ; and I went befim the
Lord Mayor to ask his advice ; he gavt ae 2r. 6d,
I looked for work eveiywhere, bof eotfd get
nothing to do ; and wh«i the 2«. 9tL was all
spent, I heard that the man who had ny money
was on the London and York Railway in the
country; however, I couldn't get that far for
want of money then ; so I went again before the
Lord Mayor, and he save me two more, but
told me not to trouble him any further. I told
the Lord Mayor about the money, and then he sent
an officer with me, who put me into m carriage on
the railway. When I got down to where the
man was at work, he womdnH ^ve me a fiu-thing;
I had given him the money without any witness
bring present, and he said I could do nothinor,
because it was done in another country. I staid
down there more than a week trying to get work
on the railroad, but could not I had no money
and was nearly starved, when two or three took
pity on me, and made up four or five shillings for
me, to take me back again to London. I tried all
I could to get something to do, till the money was
nearly gone ; and then I took to selling lucifers,
and the fly-papers that they use in the shops, and
little things like that ; but I could do no good at
this work, there was too many at it before me,
and they knew more abont it than I did. At
last, 1 got so bad off I didn't know what to do ;
but seeing a great many about here gathering
bones and rags, I thought I *d do so too — a poor
fellow must do something. I was advised to do
so, and I have been at it ever since. I forgot to
toll you that my brother died in France. We had
ffood wages there, four francs a day, or S«. id.
English ; I don't make more than 3d. or id. and
sometimes 6d. a day at bone-picking. I don't go
out before daylight to gather anything, becnuse
the police takes my bag and thro\^-s all I "ve ga-
thered about the street to see if I have anything
stolen in it I never stole anything in all my life,
indeed I 'd do anything before I *d steal. Many
a night I've slept under an arch of the rail nay
when I hadn't a penny to pay for my bed ; Ijut
whenever the police find me that way, they make
me and the rest get up, and drive us on, and toll
us to keep moving. I don't go out on wet da\-f,
there 's no use in it, as the things won't be bouglit
I can't wash and dry them, because I 'm in a
lodging-house. There 's a great deal more than a
100 bone-pickers about here, men, women, and
children. The Jews in this lane and up in Petti-
coatlane give a good deal of victuals away on the
Saturday. They sometimes call one of us in from
the street to light the fire for them, or take off the
kettle, as they must not do anything themselves
on the Sabbath ; and then they put some food on
the footpath, and throw rags and bones into the
street for us, because they must not hand anything
to us. There ore some about here who get a
couple of shillings' worth of goods, and go on

LONDON LABOUR AND THB LONDON POOR.

141

boud the ihipi in the Docks, and exchange them
lor bonea and bits of old caoTas among the sailors ;
I 'd buy aiid do so too if I only had the money, but
can't get it. The summer is the worst time for us^
the winter is much better, for there is more meat
used in winter, and then there are more bones."
(Others say differently.) " I intend to go to the
country this season, and try to get something to
do at the hay-making and harvest I make about
2t, 6d. a week, and the way I manage is this :
sometimes I get a piece of bread about 12 o'clock,
and I make my break£sst of that and cold water ;
Tery seldom I have any dinner, — unless I earn Od.
I can't get any, — and then I have a basin of nice
soup, or a penn'orth of plum-pudding and a couple
of buked 'tatoos. At night I get {d^ worth of
coffee, {d, north of sugar, and l\d. worth of
bread, and then I have 2d. a night left for my
lodging ; I always try to manage that, for I 'd do
anything sooner than stop out all night. I 'm
always happy the day when I make 4d., for then
I know I won't have to sleep in the street. The
winter before last, there was a straw-yard down
in Black Jack*s-alley, where we used to go after
six o'clock in the evening, and get ^ lb. of bread,
and another | lb. in the morning, and then we 'd
gather what we could in the daytime and buy
victuals with what wc got for it We were well
off then, but the straw-yard wasn't open at all last
win tec. There used to be 300 of us in there of a
nighti a great many of the dock-labourers and their
£uulies were there, for no work was to be got in
the docks ; so they weren't able to pay rent, and
wers obliged to go in. I 've lost my health since I
took to bone-picking, through the wet and cold in
the winter, for I 've scarcely any clothes, and the
wet gets to my feet through the old shoes ; this
caused me last winter to be nine weeks in the
hospital of the Whitechapcl workhouse."

The narrator of this tde seemed so dejected
and broken in spirit, that it was with difficulty
his story was elicited from him. He was evi-
dently labouring under incipient consumption. I
have every reason to believe that he made a
truthful statement, — ^indeed, he did not appear to
me to have sufficient intellect to invent a £ilse-
hood. It is a curious £sct, indeed, with reference
to the London street-finders generally, that they
seem to possess less rational power than any other
class. They appear utterly incapable of trading
even in the most trifling commodities, probably
from the fact that buying articles for the purpose
of selling them at a profit, requires an exercise of
the mind to which they feel themselves incapable.
Begging, too, requires some ingenuity or tact, in
order to move the sympathies of the well-to-do,
and the street-finders being incompetent for this,
they work on day after day as long as they are
able to crawl about in pursuit of their unprofit-
able ealling. This cannot be &iriy said of the
yoonger memben of this class, who are sent into
the streets by their parents, and many of whom
are afterwards able to find some more reputable
and more lucrative employment. As a body of
people, however, young and old, they mostly ex-
hibit tlie wna itiqpid, half-witted appearance.

To show how bone-grabbers occasionaUy aianage
to obtain shelter during the night, the following
incident may not be out of pboe. A lew morn-
ings past I accidentally encountered one of this
class in a narrow back lane ; his ragged coat— Hthe
colour of the rubbish among which he toiled — ^was
greased over, probably with the fiit of the bonea he
gathered, and being mixed with the dust it seemed
as if the man were covered with bird-lime. His
shoes — torn and tied on his feet with pieces of cord
— had doubtlessly been picked out of some dost-bin,
while his greasy bag and stick unmistakably
announced his calling. Desirous of obtaining all
the information possible on this subject, I asked
him a few questions, took his address, which he
gave without hesitation, and bade him call on me
in the evening. At the time appointed, however,
he did not appear ; on the following day therefore
I made way to the address he had given, and on
reaching the spot I was astonished to find the house
in which he had said he lived was uninhabited.
A padlock was on the door, the boards of which
were parting with age. There was not a whole
pane of gloM in any of the windows, and the
frames of many of them were shattered or de-
molished. Some persons in the neighbourhood,
noticing me eyeing the place, asked whom I
wanted. On my telling the man's name, which it
appeared he had not dreamt of disguising, I was
informed that he had left the day before, saying he
had met the landlord in the morning (for such it
turned out he had fiancied me to be), and that the
gentleman had wanted him to come to his house, but
he was afraid to go lest he should be sent to prison
for breaking into the place. I found, on inspec-
tion, that the premises, though locked up, could
be entered by the rear, one of the window-frames
having been removed, so that admission could
be obtiiined through the aperture. Availing my-
self of the same mode of ingress, I proceeded, to
examine the premises. Nothing could well be
more dismal or dreary than the interior. The
floors were rotting with damp and mildew, espe-
cially mar the windows, where the wet found
easy entrance. The walls were even slimy and
discoloured, and everything bore the appearance
of desolation. In one comer was strewn a bundle
of dirty straw, which doubtlessly had served the
bone-grubber for a bed, while scattered about the
floor were pieces of bones, and small fragments of
dirty rags, sufiicicnt to indicate the calling of the
late inmate. He had had but little difficulty in
removing his property, seeing that it consisted
solely of his bag and his stick.

The following paragraph concerning the chiflfb-
niers or rag-gatherers of Paris appeared in the
London journals a few weeks since : —

** The fraternal association of rag-gBtheren
(chiffoniers) gave a grand banquet on Saturday
last (21st of June). It took pUce at a public-
house called the Pot Tricolore, near the BarrOrt
de FoniainhleaUf which is frequented by the rag-
gathering fraternity. }n this house there are
three rooms, each of which is specially devoted to
the use of different classes of rag-gatheren ; eoe,
the least dirty, is called the ' Chamber of Feer^'

142

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

and if occupied by the fint claii — ^that is, those
who potseis a basket in a good state, and a crook
ornamented with copper ; the second, called the
'Chamber of Deputies/ belonging to the second
class, is much less comfortable, and those who
attend it have baskets and crooks not of first-rate
quality ; the third room is in a dilnpidated condi-
tion, and is frequented by the lowest class of
rag-gatherers who have no basket or crook, and
who place what they find in the streets in a piece
of sackcloth. They call themselves the 'Reunion
det Vrait ProUiaira* The name of each room
is written in chalk above the door ; and generally
such strict etiquette is observed among the rag-
gatherers that no one goes into the apartment not
occupied by his own class! At Saturday's ban-
quet, however, all distinctions of rank were laid
aside, and delegates of each class united frater-
nally. The president was the oldest rag-gatherer
in Paris; his age is 88, nnd he is called 'the
Emperor.' The banquet consisted of a sort of
oHa podnda, which the master of the establish-
ment pompously called gihtlottff though of what
animal it was composed it was impossible to say.
It was served up in huge earthen dishes, and
before it was- allowed to be touched payment was
demanded and obtained ,* the other articles were
also paid for ns soon as they were brought in ;
and a deposit was exacted as a security for the
plates, knives, and forks. The wine, or what did
duty as such, wai contained in an earthen pot
called the Pdit P^t-e Noi'r, and was filled from a
gigantic vessel named Lc Mottcaud. The dinner
was concluded by each guest taking a small glass
of brandy. Businoss was then procet'dcd to.
It consisted in the rending aiul adoption of the
statutes of the association, followed by the drink-
ing of nunierjui toasts to the president, to the
prosperity of rag-gathering, to the union of rag-
gatherers, &c. A collection amounting to 6/. 75c.
was raised for sick members of the fraternity.
The guests then dispersed ; but several of them
remained at the counter until they had consumed
in brandy the amount dep)sitrd as security for
the crockery, kr.ives, and forks."

Of the " Puhe "-Foders.
Doos'-dung is called "Pure," from its clennsing
nnd purifying properties.

The name of " Pure-finders," however, hns been
applied to the men engaged in collecting dogs'-
dung from the public streets only, within the last
20 or 30 years. Previons to this period there ap-
pears to have been no men engaged in the busi-
ness, old women alone gathered the substance,
and they were known by the name of " hunters,"
which signifies properly gatherers of rags; nnd thus
plainly intimates that the rag-gatherera originally
added the collecting of " Pure " to their original
and proper vocation. Hence it appears that the
bone-grubber», rag-gatherers, and pure-finders,
constituted formerly but one class of people, and
even now they have, as I have stated, kindred
characteristics.

The pure-finders meet with a ready market for all
the dogs'-dung they are able to collect, at the nnmt-

i reus tanyards in Bermondsey, where thej lell it by
the sUble-bucket full, and get from Sd. to lOd,
per bucket, and sometimes Is. and Is. 2d, for it,
according to its quality. The " dry liMy-looking
sort" fetches the highest price at somo yards, as it
is found to possess more of the alkalios^ or purify-
ing properties ; but others are found to pivfer the
dark moist quality. Strange ns it nay appear,
the preference for a particular kind has loggested
to the finders of Pure the idea of adultecating it
to a very considerable extent ; this is effected by
means of mortar broken away from old walls, and
mixed up with the whole mass, which it closely
resembles ; in some cases, however, tho mortar is
rolled into small balls similar to those found.
Hence it would appear, that there is no business
or trade, however insignificant or contemptible,
without its own peculiar and appropriate tricks.

The pure-findcn are in their habits and mode
of proceeding nearly similar to the bone-grubbers.
Many of the puretinden are, however, better in
circumstances, the men especially, as they earn
more money. They are also, to a certain extent,
a better educated class. Some of the regular col-
lectors of this substance have been mechanics, and
others small tradesmen, who have been reduced.
Those pure-finders who have " a good connection,"
and have been granted permission to cleanse somo
kennels, obuin a very fair living at the business,
earning from IDs. to 16f. a week. These, how-
ever, are very few ; the majority have to seek the
article in the streets, and by such means they
can obtain only from 6s. to 10s. a week. Tho
average weekly* e.imings of thb class are thought
to be about 7 jr. 6d.

From all the inquiries I have made on this sub-
ject, I have found that there cannot be less than
from 200 to 300 persons constantly engaged solely
in this business. There are about 80 tanyards
large and small in Bernondscy, and these all have
their regular Pure coUecton from whom they
obtain tJie article. Leomont and Roberts's, Baving-
tons'. Beech's, Murrell's, Cheeseman's, Powell's,
Jones's, Jourdans', Kent's, Moorcroft's, and Davis's,
are among the largest establishments, and some
idea of the amount of business done in some of
these yards may be formed from the fiurt, that the
proprietors severally employ from 300 to 500 tan-
ners. At Leomont and UoberU's there are 23 re-
gular stree^finders, who supply them with pure,
but this is a large establishment, and the number
supplying them is considered far beyond the
avero};e quantity ; moreover, Messrs. Leomont and
Roberts do more business iu the particular branch
of tanning in which the article is principally used,
viz., in dressing the leather for book-covers, kid-
gloves, and a variety of other articles. Some of
the other tanyards, especially the smaller ones,
tike the substance only ns they happen to want it,
and others again employ but a limited number of
hands. If, therefore, we strike an average, and
reduce the number supplying each of the several
yards to eight, we shall have 240 persons re-
gularly engaged in the biuiness : besides these, it
may be said that numben of the starving and
destitute Irish have taken to picking up the ma-

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

143

terial, but not knowing where to lell it, or how to
difpote of it, they part with it for 2d, or Zd. the
pail-full to the regular purveyors of it to the tan-
yardi, who of coarse make a considerable profit
by the transaction. The children of the poor
Irish are uinally employed in this manner, but
they also pick up rags and bones, and anything
elae which may fall in their way.

I have stated that some of the pure-finders,
especially the men, earn a conbiderable sum of
money per week ; their gains are sometimes as
mach as 15«. ; indeed I am assured that seven years
ago, when they got from Zs, to At. per pail for the
pure, that many of them would not exchange their
position with that of the best piiid mechanic in
London. Now, however, the case is altered, for
there are twenty now at the business for every
one who (oWowtd, it then ; hence each collects
■0 much the less in quantity, and, moreover,
from the competition gets so much less for the
article. Some of the collectors at present do
not earn 3«. per week, but these are mostly old
women who are feeble and unable to get over the
ground quickly ; others make bs. and 6«. in the
course of the week, while the most active and
those who clean out the kennels of the dog fanciers
may occasionally make 9j. and 10«. and even Ifij.
a week still, but this is of very rare occurrence.
Allowing the finders, one with the other, to earn
on an average 5«. per week, it would give tiie
■anoal earnings of each to be 13/., while the
iocome of the whole 200 would amount to 50/. a
week^ or 2600/. per annum. The kennel " pure "
is not much ralued, indeed many of the tinners
will not even buy it, the reason is that the
dogs of the " fiuiciers " are ftd on almost any-
thing; to save expense ; the kennel cUuiers con-
aeqaentiy take the precaution of mixing it with
what is fovnd in the street^ previous to offering it
fcrsale.

The pnre-finder miy at once be distinguished
from the bone-gmbber and rag-gatherer ; the
ktter, as I have before mentioned, carries a bag,
and ntnally a stick anned with a spike, while he
is moct frequently to be met with in back streets,
nanow lanes, yards and other places, where dust
and mbbish are likely to be thrown out from the
adjacent booses. The pure-finder, on the contrary,
it often found in the open streeU, ns dogs wander
where they like. The pure-finders always carry
ft handle basket, generally with a cover, to hide
the contents, and have their right hand covered
with a bb^k leather glove ; many of them, how-
ever, dispense with the glove, as they sny it is
much easier to wash their hands than to keep the
glove fit for nse. The women generally have a
large poeket fur the reception of such rags as they
may chanee to fiiU in with, but they pick up those
only of the very best quality, and will not go out
of tlMir way to search even for them. Thus
eqmpped they may be seen pursuing their avoca-
tion in idmott every street in and about London,
excepting such streets as are now cleansed by
the '^ street orderlieiy" of whom the pure-finders
srietonsly complain, as being an unwarrantable
nrteffarenee with the privileges of their class.

The pure collected is used by leather-dressers
and tanners, and more especially by those engaged
in the manufacture of morocco and kid leathec.
from the skins of old and young goats, of which
skins great numbers are imported, and of the
roans and lambskins which are the sham morocco
and kids of the "slop" leather trade, and are
used by the better class of shoemakers, book-
binders, and glovers, for the inferior requirements
of their business. Pure is also used by tannery
as is pigeon's dung, for the tanning of the thinner
kinds of leather, such as calf-skins, for which
purpose it is placed in pits with an admixture of
lime and bark.

In the mtnufacture of moroccos and roans the
pure is rubbed by the hands of the workman into
the skin he is dressing. This is done to "purify*'
the leather, I was told by an intelligent leather-
dresser, and from that term the word ** pure" has
originated. The dung has astringent as well as
highly alkaline, or, to use the expression of my
informant, " scouring," qualities. When the pure
has been rubbed into the flesh and grain of the
skin (the " flesh" being originally the interior, and
the "grain" the exterior part of tlie cuticle), and
the skin, thus purified, has been hung up to be
dried, the dung removes, as it were, all such
moisture as, if allowed to remain, would tend to
nuikc the leather unsound or imperfectly dressed.
This imperfect dressing, moreover, gives a dis-
grecable smell to the leather — and leather-buyers
often use both nose and tongue in making their
purchases — and would consequently prevent that
agreeable odour being imparted to the skin which
is found in some kinds of morocco and kid. The
peculiar odour of the Russia leather, so agreeable
in the libmries of the rich, is derived from the
bark of young birch trees. It is now manufiic-
tured in Bermondsey.

Among the morocco manufacturers, especially
among the old operatives, there is often a scarcity
of employment, and they then dress a few roans,
which they hawk to the cheap warehouses, or
sell to the wholesale shoemakers on their own
account. These men usually reside in small gar-
rets in the poorer parts of Bermondsey, and carry
on their trade in their own rooms, using and
keeping tho pure there ; hence the " homes" of
these poor men are peculiarly uncomfortable, if
not unhealthy. Some of these poor fellows or
their wives collect the pure themselves, often
starting at daylight for the purpose ; they more
frequently, however, buy it of a regular finder.

The number of pure-finders I heard estimated,
by a man well acqiuiinted with the tanning and
other departments of the leather trade, at from
200 to 250. The finders, I was informed by the
same person, collected about a pail-full a day, clear-
ing 6«. a week in the summer — 1^. and Is. 2d.
being the charge for a pail-full ; in tlie short days
of winter, however, and in bad weather, they
could not collect five pail-fulls in a week.

In the wretched locality already referred to as
lying beta-een the Docks and Rosemary-lane, redo-
lent of filth and pregnant with pestilential diseases,
and whither all the outcasts of the metropolitan

144

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOJL

popalation seem to be dntwn, either in the hope of
finding fitting auociatei and companioni in their
metchedneis (for there ii doubtleiely lomething
attractife and agreeable to them in inch companion-
' ihip), or elie for the purpoie of hiding themselyef
and their ibifu and struggle! for existence from the
world,— in thii dismal quarter, and branching from
one of the many narrow lanes which interlace it,
there is a little court with about luilf-o-dozcn
houses of the very smallest dimensions, consisting
of merely two rooms, one over the other. Here
in one of the upper rooms (the lower one of the
same house being occupied by another family and
api»arently filled with little mptfcd children), I
discerned, after considcnible difficulty, an old
woman, a Pure-finder. When I opened the door
the little light that struggled through the small
window, the many broken panes of which were
stuffed with old rags, was not sufficient to enable
me to perceive who or what was in the room.
After a short time, however, I began to make out
an old chair standing near the fire-place, and then
to discover a poor old woman resembling a bundle
of rags and filth stretched on some dirty straw in
tbe comer of the apartment. The place was bfire
and almost naked. There was nothing in it ex-
cept a couple of old tin kettles and a basket, and
some broken crockerj'ware in the recess of the
window. To my astonishment I found this
wretched creature to be, to a certain extent, a
"superior** woman ; she could read and write well,
spoke correctly, and appeared to have been a
person of natuml good sense, though broken up
with age, want, and infirmity, so that she \i'as
characterized by all that dull and hardened
stupidity of manner which I have noticed in the
class. She made the following statement : —

" I am about 60 years of age. Aly father was a
milkman, and very well off; he had a barn and a
great many cows. I was kept at school till I was
thirteen or fourteen years of age; about that
time my father died, and then I was taken home
to help my mother in the business. Aftrr a
while things went wrong ; the cows began to die,
and mother, alleging she could not manage the
business herself, married again. I soon found out
the difference. Glad to get away, anywhere out
of the house, I married a sailor, and was very
comfortable with him for some years ; as he made
short voyages, and was often at home, and always
left me half his pay. At last he was pressed,
when at home with me, and sent away ; I forget
now where he was sent to, but I never saw him
from that day to this. The only thing I know is
that some sailors came to me four or five years
after, and told me that he deserted from the ship
in which he had gone out, and got on board the
yepiune, Bast Indiaman, bound for liombay,
where he acted as boatswain's mate; some
little time afterwards, he had got intoxicated
while the ship was lying in harbour, and, going
down the side to got into a bumboat, and buy more
drink, he had fallen overboard and was drowned.
I got some money that was duo to him from the
India House, and, after that was all gone, I went
into service, in the Mile-end Boad. There

I itaytd for tetenl years, till I met mj second
husband, who wai bred to the water, too, bat aa
a watemm on the riyer. We did very well
together for a long time, till he lost his health.
He became paralysed like, and was deprived of
the use of all one side, and nearly lost the sight
of one of hb eyes; this was not wry con-
spicuous at first, but when we came to get pinched,
and to be badly off, then any one might faavejeen
that there was something the matter with hia
eye. Then we parted with everything we had in the
world ; and, at last, when we had no other meana
of living left, we were advised to take to gathering
' Pure.' At first I couldn't endure the business ; I
couldn't bear to eat a morsel, and I was obliged to
diKontinue it for a long time. My husband kept
at it though, for he could do that well enough,
only ho couldn't walk as £sst aa he ought He
couldn't lift hb hands om high aa hb b«id, bnt he
managed to work under him, and fo pnt the Pure
in the basket When I saw that he, poor fellow,
couldn't make enough to keep ns both, I took
heart and went out again, and used to gather
more than he did ; that 's fifteen years ago now ;
the times were good then, and we used to do very
well. If wc only gathered a pail-full in the day,
we could live very well ; but we could do much
more than that, for there wasn't near so many at
the business then, and the Pure was eaaier to be
had. Fur my part 1 can't tell where all the poor
creatures have come from of late years ; the world
seems growing worse and worse every day. They
have pulled down the price of Pure, that 's certain ;
but the poor things must do something, they can't
starve while there's anything to be got Why,
no later than six or seven yeara ago, it was aa
high as diik td. and is* a pail-full, and a ready aale
for as much of it as you could get ; but now yon
can only get Is. and in some placea Is. 2d, a
pail-full ; and, as I said befon, there are so many
at it, that there is not muek left for a poor old
creature like me to find. Tho men that are-tlrong
and smart get the most, of course, and some of
them do very well, at least they manage to live.
Six years ago, my husband complaint that he
was ill, in the evening, and lay down in the bed —
wc lived in Whitechapcl then — he took a fit of
coughing, and was smothered in hb own blood.

0 dear " (the poor old soul here ejaculated), " what
troubles I have gone through! I had eight chil-
dren at one time, and there b not one of them
alive now. My daughter lived to 80 yeara of
age, and then she died in childbirth, and, since
then, I have had nobody in the wide world to
care for mc — none but myself, all alone aa I am.
After my husband's death I couldn't do much,
and all my things went away, one by one, until
I've nothing but bare walls, and that's the
reason why I was vexed at first at your coming in,
sir. I was yesterday ont all day, and went roMid
Aldgate, Whitechapel, St George's East, Stepney^
Bow, and Broudey, and then came home ; after
that, I went over to Bermondsey, and there I got
only Od. for my pains. To-day I wasn't out at
all; I wasn't well; I had a bad headache, and

1 'm so much afraid of the fevers that are all aboit

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON ^OOR.

145

here — though I don't know why I ihould be
afnid of them — I was lying down, when you
came, to get rid of my paint. There 'r such a diz-
lineu in my head now, I feel as If it didn't belong
to me. No, I have earned no money to day. I
hare had a pitee of dried bread that I steeped in
water to eat. I haven't eat anytbine else to^y ;
bat, pray, sir, don't tell anybody of it. I e«mld
nerer bear the thought of going into the ' great
house' [workhousel ; I'm so used to the air, that
I 'd sooner die in the street, as many I know have
done. I've known several of our people, who
have sat down in the street with their buket
alongside them, and died: I knew one not long
ago, who took ill fust as shd was stooping down
to gather up the rvte, and fell on her fue ; she
was taken to the' London Bospital, and died at
three o'clock in the morning. I 'd sooner die like
them than be deprived of my liberty, and be pre-
vented from going about whfte I liked. No, I 'U
never go into the workhouse ; my master is kind
to me" [the tanner whom she supplies]. " When
I 'm ill, he sometimes gives me a sixpence ; but
there's one gentleman mis done us great harm, by
fordng BO many into the business. He 's a poor-
law guardian, and when any poor person applies
for relief, he tells them to go and gather Pure,
md that hell buy it of them (fbr he's in the
line), and so the parish, you see, don't have to
give anything, and that 's one wav that so many
nave eome into the trade of late, that the likes of
iBe can do little or no good at it. Almost every
one I 've ever known engaged at Pure-tinding were
people who were better off once. I knew a man
who went by the name of Brown, who picked up
Pore for yean before I went to It ; he was a very
quiet man ; he used to lodge in Blue Anchor- yard,
ud seldom used to speak to anybody. We two
Qicd to talk together sometimes, but never much.
One mottling he was found dead in his bed ; it
vu of a Tuesday morning, and he was buried
shout 12 o'clock on the Friday following. About
8 o'clock on that afternoon, three or four gentle-
Ben came searehing all through this place, looking
fcr a man niamed Brown, and offering a reward to
any who would find him out ; tbere was a whole
crowd about them when I came up. One of the
gentlemen said Uiat the roan they wanted had lost
the firat finger of his right hand, and then I knew
that it waa the man that had been buried only
that morning. Would you believe it, Mr. Brown
was a real gentleman all the time, and had
a laig« estate, of I don't know how many thousand
pounds, just left him, and the lawyers )uid adver-
tised and learehed everywhere for him, but never
found him, yon may say, till he was dciid. We
discovered that his name was not Brown ; he had
only taken that name to hide his real one, which,
of codne, he did not want any one to know. I 've
often thought of him, poor m:in, and all the misery
he might have been spared, if the good news had
"Illy come a year or two sooner."

Another infrttmunt, a Pure-collector, was ori-
ginally in the Manchester cotton trade, and hold
a lucrative situation in a large country establish-
ment. His salary one year exceeded 250/., and ;

his regular income was 150/. "This "he says,
" I lost through drink and neglect Hy master
was exceedingly kiAd to me, and haa even asdstbd
me since J left his employ. Be bore vrith toe
patiently for many years, but th6 lovo of drink
was s6 tttrmg upon me that it wris Impossible flnr
him to keep me any longer." ' He Has often been
drank, he tells me, fir three months together;
and he Is now so reduced that he is ashamed' to
be seen. When at his master's it was his duty
to carve and help the othef assistants belonging
to the establishment, and his haftd nsed to shake
BO violently that he has been ashamed to lift the
gravy spoon. ...

At breakfast he has firequently vraited till all
the voung men had left the table before he ven-
tured to taste his tea ; and fanmediately, when he
was alone, he has bent his head down to'hfs ciip
to drink, being ntterty incapable of raising^ it to
his lips. He says he is a living example of the
degrading influence of drink. All his friends
have deserted him. He has suffsred enough, he
tells me, to make him give it up. He earned the
week before I saw him 5«. 2d. ; and the week
before that, 6s.

Before leaving me I prevailed upon the man to
" take the pledge." Tliis is now dghteen months
ago, and I nave not seen him since. ' '

Of Tni CiOAft-Ein> FixDBaa.
TnBnB are, strictly speaking, none who make a
living by picking up the cifds of cigars thrown
away as useless by the smokers in tha streets,
but there are very many who employ themselves
iVom time to timfein eolleeting them. Almost all the
street-finders, when they meet with such things,
pick them up,' and keep them in' a pocket set
apart for that purpose. The men allow the ends
to accumulate till they amount to two or three
pounds weight, and then some dispose of them to a
person residing in the neighbourhood of Rose-
mary-lane, who buys them all up at from 6rf. to
lOrf: per pound, according to their length and
quality. The long ends are considered the best,
as I am told there is more sound tobacco in them,
uninjured by the moisture of the mouth. The
children of the poor Irish, in particular, scour
Rate! iff-high way, the Conimerelal-road, Mile-end-
road, and all the leading thoroughfares of the
East, and every place where cigar snrokers are
likely to take an evening^s promenade. The
quantity that each of them collects is very trifling
indeed - perhaps not more than a handful during
a morning's search. I am informed, by an intelli-
gent man living iu the midst of them, that these
children go out in the morning not only to gather
cigar-ends, but to pick up out of dust bnis, and
from amongst rubbish in the streeU, the smalleit
scraps and crusts of bread, no matter how hard
or filthy they mnv be. These they put into a
little bag which thev carry for the purpose, and,
after they have gnne their roundsand collected what-
ever they cnn, they take the cigar-ends to the man
who buys (hem— sometimes getting not more than
a halfpt-niiy ur a penny for their morning's collfc-
tion. With this they buy a hallpenny or a penny-

No. zzxv.

146

LONDOir LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

worth of oatmotl, which they mix up with a Urge
quantity of water, and after waahing and iteeping
the hard and dirty cnuti, they pat them into the
pot or kettle and boil all together. Of thte nuui
the whole fiumily partake, and it often conatitatei
all the food they taste in the coone of the day.

1 have often leen the bone-gmbben eat the black
and eoddened cnuts they hare picked up out of
the gutter.

It would, indeed, be a hopeleM tatk to make
any attempt to get at the number of penons who
occaaionally or otherwiie pick up cigar-ends with
the fiew of telling them again. For this purpose
almost all who ransack the streets of London for a
linng may be computed as belonginff to the class;
and to these should be added the children of the
thousands of destitute Irish who have inundated
the metropolis within the last few years, and who
are to be found huddled together in all the low
neighbourhoods in every suburb of the City.
What quantity is collected, or the amount of
money obtaineid for the ends, there are no means
of ascertaining.

Let us, however, make a conjecture. There are
in round numbers 300,000 inhabited houses in the
metropolis ; and allowing the married people living
in apartments to be equal in number to the un-
married '' housekeepers," we may compute that the
number of fomiliet in London is about the same
as the inhabited houses. Assuming one young or
old gentleman in every ten of these fomilies to
smoke one cigar per diem in the public thorough-
fores, we have 80,000 cigar-ends daily, or 210,000
weekly cast away in the London streets. Now,
reckoning 150 cigars to go to a pound, we may
assume that each end so cast away weighs about
the thousandth part of a pound ; consequently
the gross weight of the ends flung into the gutter
will, in the course of the week, amount to about

2 cwt. ; and calculating that only a sixth port of
these are picked up by the finders, it follows
that there is very nearly a ton of refuse tobacco
collected annually in the metropolitan thorough-
fares. ^

The aristocratic quarters of the City and the
vicinity of theatres and casinos are the best for
the cigar-end finders. In the Strand, Hegent-
street, and the more foshionable thoroughfores,
I am told, there are many ends picked up ; but
even in these places they do not exclusively
furnish a means of living to any of the finders.
All the collectors sell them to some other person,
who acts as middle-man in the business. How
he disposes of the ends is unknown, but it is
supposed that they are resold to some of the
large manufacturers of cigars, and go to form the
component part of a new stock of the "best
Havannahs ; ** or, in other words, they are worked
up again to be again castaway, and again collected
by the finders, and so on perhaps, till the millen-
nium comes. Some suppose them to be cut up and
mixed with the common smoking tobacco, and
others that they are used in making snuff. There
are, I am assured, five persons residing in different
parts of London, who are known to purchase the
cigar-ends.

In Naples the sale of cigar-ends is a regular
street-traffic, the street-seller carrying them in a
small box suspended round the neck. In Paris,
also, U Rematteur de Cigara is a well-known
occupation : the " ends" thus collected are sold as
cheap tobacco to the poor. In the low lodging-
houses of London the ends, when dried, are cut
up, and firequently vended by the finders to such
of their fellow-lodgers as are anxious to enjoy
their pipe at the cheapest possible rate.

Of thb Old Wood Gathirjebs.
All that has been said of the cigar-end finders
may, iu a great measure, apply to the wood-
gatherers. No one can make a living exchisively
by the gathering of wood, and those who do gather
it, gather as well rags, bones, and bits of metal.
They gather it, indeed, a* an adjunct to thoir
other findings, en the principle that " every little
helps." Those, however, who most firequently look
for wood are tl'.e very old and foeUe^and the very
young, who are boUi unable to travel for, or to
carry a heavy burden, and they may occasionally
be seen crawling about in the ndghbourhood of
any new buildings in the course of construction, or
old ones in the course of demolition, and picking up
small odds and ends of wood and chips swept out
amongst dirt and shavings ; these they deposit in a
bag or basket which they carry for that purpose.
Should there happen to be what they call ** pull-
ing-down work," that is, taking down old houses,
or palings, the place is immediately beset by a
number of wood-gatherers, young and old, and
in general all the poor people of the locality join
with them, to obtain their share of the spoil.
What the poor get they take home and bum, but
the wood-gatherers sell all they procure for some
small trifle.

Some short time ago a portion of the wood-pave-
ment in the city was being removed ; a lai;ge num-
ber of the old blocks, which were much worn and
of no further use, were thrown aside, and became
the perquisite of the wood-gatherers. During the
repair of the street, the spot was constantly be-
sieged by a motley mob of men, women, and chil-
dren, who, in many instances, struggled and fought
for the wood rejected as vrorthless. This wood
they either sold for a trifle as they got it, or took
home and split, and made into bundles for sale
as firewood.

All the mudlarks (of whom I shall treat
specially) pick up wood and chips on the bank of
the river ; these they sell to poor people in their
own neighbourhood. They sometimes "find"
large pieces of a greater weight than they can
carry ; in such cases they get some other mud-
lark to help them with the load, and the two
"go halves" in the produce. The only parties
among the street-finders who do not pick up wood
are the Pure-collectors and the sewer-hunters, or,
as they call themselves, shore- workers, both of
whom pass it by as of no value.

It is impossible to estimate the quantity of
wood which is thus gathered, or what the amount
may be which the collector realises in the course
of the year.

LONDON LABOUR AND TEE LONDON POOR.

147

Of thb Drbdqies, ob Riyxb Fivdxbs.

Thb dredgvnnen of the Thames, or river finders,
netaiBlly occupy the same place with reference
te the Btreet-finderSy as the purlmen or rirer beer-
•tllers do to those who get their living by selling
in the streets. It womd be in itself a cnrions
inquiry to trace the origin of the manifold occu-
patbns in which men are found to be engaged in
the present day, and to note how promptly every
drcnmstance and occurrence was Uud hold o^ as it
happened to arise, which appeared to have any
tendency to open up a new occupation, and to
mark the gradual progress, till it became a regu-
larly-estabUshed employment, followed by a
separate class of people, fenced round by rules
and customs of their own, and who at length grew
to be both in their habits and peculiarities plainly
distinct from the other classes among whom they
chanced to be located.

There has been no hiatorian among the dredgers
of the Thames to record the commencement of the
bosiness, and the utmost that any of the river-
finders can tell is that his fiither had been a
dredger, and so had his fiither before him, and that
thai *i the reason why they are dredgers also. But
no such people as dredgers were known on the
Thames in remote days ; and before London had be-
come an important trading port, where nothing was
likely to be got fi>r the searching, it is not probable
that people would have been induced to search. In
those days, the only things searched for in the river
wete the bodies of persons drowned, accidentally
or otherwise. For this purpose, the Thames
fiahefBMn of all others, appealed to be the best
adapted. They were on Uie spot at all times, and
had various sorts of tackle, such as nets, lines,
bookty &C. The fishermen well understood every-
thing eonnected with the river, such as the various
aets of the tide, and the nature of the bottom, and
they were thraefore on such occasions invariably
apj^ied to fi>r these purposes.

It is known to all wno remember anything of
Old London Bridge, that at certain times of the
tide, in conseqnence of the velocity with which
the water rushed through the narrow apertures
which the arches ^en afforded for its passage,
to bring a boat in safety through the bridge
was a tmX to be attempted only by the skilful and
experienced. This feat was known as " shoo^
ing" London Bridge; and it was no unusual
thing for accidents to happen even to the most
vxftit. In fiict, numerous accidents occurred at
this bridge, and at such times valuable articles
wsfe sometimes lott^ for which high rewards were
ofined to the finder. Here again the fishermen
came into requisition, the small drag-net, which
they usd wkile rowing, offering itself for the
pnipoM; for, by fixing an iron ficame round the
Bontlt of the drag-net, this part of it, from its
spedfie gravity, simk first to Uie bottom, and con-
sequently scraped along as they pulled forward,
collecting into the net everything that came in its
way ; when it was nearly filled, which the rower
always knew by the weight, it was hauled up to

I the suHace, its contents examined, and the object
lost generally recovered.

It is thus apparent that the fishermen of the
Thames were the men originally employed as
dredgermen; though casually, indeed, at first,
and according as circumstances occurred requiring
their services. By degrees, however, as Uie com-
merce of the river increased, and a greater number
of articles fell overboard from the shipping, they
came to be more frequently called into requtution,
and so they were naturally led to adopt the
dredging as part and parcel of their business.
Thus it remains to the present day.

The fishermen all serve a regular apprentice-
ship, as they say themselves, " duly and truly "
for seven years. During the time of their ap-
prenticeship they are (or rather, in former times
they were) obliged to sleep in their master's boat
at night to take care of his property, and were
subject to many other curious regulations, which
are foreign to this subject

I have said that the fishermen of the Thames
to the present day unite the dredging to their
proper calling. By this I mean that they employ
themselves in fishing during the summer and
autumn, either from Barking Creek downwards,
or from Chelsea Beach upwards, catching dabs,
flounders, eels, and other sorU of fish for the
London markets. But in winter when the days
are short and cold, and the weather stormy, they
prefer stopping at home, and dredging the bed of
the river for anything they may chance to find.
There are others, however, who have started
wholly in the dredging line, there being no hin-
drance or impediment to any one doing so, nor any
licence required for the purpose : these dredge the
river winter and summer alike, and are, in foct,
the only real dredgermen of the present day
living solely by that occupation.

There are in all about 100 dredgermen at work
on the river, and these are located as follows :—

Dredger-
men.
From Putney to Yauxhall there are . 20
From Yauxhall to London-bridge . . 40
From London-bridge to Deptford . . 20
And from Deptford to Gravesend . . 20

100
All these reside, in general, on the south
side of the Thames, the two places most fre-
quented by them being Lambeth and Bother-
hithe. They do not, however, confine themselves
to the neighbourhoods wherein they reside, but
extend their operations to all parts of the river,
where it is likely that they may pick up any-
thing ; and it is perfectly marvellous with what
rapidity the intelligence of any accident calculated
to affi>rd them employment is spread among them ;
for should a loaded coal barge be sunk over night,
by daylight the next morning every dredgerman
would be sure to be upon the spot, prepared to
collect what he could from the wreck at the
bottom of the river.

The boats of the dredgermen are of a peculiar
shape. They have no stern, but are the same

1«)

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

fithin' all the lammer, when the dredgin' it bad,
and come back in winter. Some on ni down
here" [Rotherhithe] ''go a deal-portering in the
•nmmer, or nnloa£ng 'tatoes, or anything else
we can get; when we hare nothin' else to
do, we go on the river. Father don't dredge
now, he a too old for that ; it takes a man to be
strong to dredge, so fitther goes to ship scrapin'.
He on'y sits on a plank ontside the ship, and
scrapes off the old tar with a Kraper. We does very
well for all that — why he can make his half abuU
a day \2t, 6(2.] when he gits work, but that 's not
always; howsomever I helps the old man at
times, when I 'm able. I 're found a good many
bodies. I got a many rewards, and a tidy bit
of inquest money. There 's Si. fid, inquest money
at Rotherhithe, and on'y a shillin* at Deptford ; I
can't make out how that is, but that *s all they
gire, I know. I never finds anythink on the bodies.
Lor bleu you t people don't have anythink in their
pockets when they giu drowned, they are not
such fools as all that Do you ste t^em two marks
there on the back of my hand 1 Well, one day — I
was on'y young then — I was grabblin' for old rope
in Church Hole, when I brungs up a body, and
just as I was fixing the rope on his leg to tow him
ashore, two swells comes down in a skiff, and lays
hold of the painter of my boat, and tows me
ashore. The hook of the drag went right thro'
the trowsera of the drowned man and my hand,
and I couldn't let go no how, and tho' I roared
out like mad, the swells didn't care, but dragged
me into the stairs. When I got there, my arm,
and the corpse's shoe and trowsera, was all kivered
with my blood. What do you think the gents
said 1 — why, they told me as how they had done
me good, in towin' the body in, and ran away up
the stairs. Tho' times ain't near so good as they
was, I manages purty tidy, and hasn't got no
occasion to hoUor much ; but there 's some of the
dredgers as would hoUor, if they was ever so well
off."

Of thb Sewer-Huktebs.
Some few years ago, the main sewers, having their
outlets on the river side, were completely open,
so that any person desirous of exploring their
dark and uninviting recesses might enter at the
river side, and wander away, provided he could
withstand the combination of villanous stenches
which met him at every step, for many miles,
in any direction. At that time it was a thing of
very frequent occurrence, especially at the spring
tides, for the water to rush into the sewers,
pouring through them like a torrent, and then
to burst up through the gratings into the
streets, flooding all the low-lying districts in the
vicinity of the river, till the streets of Shadwell
and Wapping resembled a Dutch town, inter-
sected by a series of muddy canals. Of Ute,
however, to remedy this defect, the Commission-
ers have had a strong brick wall built within
the entrance to the several sewers. In each of
these brick wall* there is an opening covered by a
strong iron door, which hangs from the top and
is so arranged that when the tide is low the rush

of the water and other filth on the inner side,
forces it back and allows the contents of the sewer
to pass into the river, whilst when the tide riaee
the door is forced so close against the wall by
the pressure of the water outside that none can
by any possibility enter, and thus the river
neighbourhoods are secured from the deluges which
were heretofore of such firequent oocurenoe.

Were it not a notorioos fiict, it might perhape
be thought impossible, that men could be found
who, for the chance of obtaining a living of some
sort or other, would, day after day, and year after
year, continoe to travel through these undefgroond
channels for the offnouring of the city ; but sock
is the case even at the present moment. In
former times, however, this custom prevailed much
more than now, for in those dajrs the sewers
were entirely open and presented no obatacle to
any one deaiious of entering them. Many won-
drous tales are still told among the people of men
having lost their way in the sewers, and of hav-
ing wandered among the filthy passagei — their
lignts extinguished by the noisome vapours — till,
faint and overpowered, they dropped down and
died on the spot. Other stories are told of sewer-
hunters beset by myriads of enormous rats, and
slaying thousands of them in their struggle fat
life, till at lenffth the swarms of the savage things
overpowered them, and in a few days afterwards
their skeletons were discovered picked to the very
bones. Since the iron doors, however, have been
placed on the main sewers a prohilntion has been
issued against entering them, and a reward of 5L
offored to any person giving information ao as to
lead to the conviction of any offender. Neverthe-
less many still travel through these foul laby-
rinths, in search of such valuables as may have
found their way down the drains.

The persons who aro in the habit of searching
the sewers, call themselves " shore-men " or "shore-
workers." They belong, in a certain degree, to the
same ckiss as the " mud-larks," that is to say, they
travel through the mud along shore in the neigh-
bourhood of ship-building and ship-breaking yards,
for the purpose of picking up copper nails, bolts,
iron, and old rope. The shore-men, however,
do not collect the lumps of coal and wood they
meet with on their way, but leave them as the
proper perquisites of the mud-krks. The sewer-
hunters were formerly, and indeed are still, called
by the name of " Toshers," the articles which they
pick up in the course of their wanderings along
shore being known among themselves by the
general term <'tosh," a word more particularly
applied by them to anything made of copper, i
These " Toshers " may be seen, especially on the
Surrey side of the Thames, habited in long greasy
velveteen coats, furnished with pockets of vast capa-
city, and their nether limbs encased in dirty canvas
trowsers, and any old slops of shoes, that may be
fit only for wading through the mud. They carry
a bag on their back, and in their hand a pole seven
or eight feet long, on one end of which there is
a large iron hoe. The uses of thia instrument are !
various ; with it they try the ground wherever it
appears unaafe, before venturing on it, and, when

LOITDOir LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

151

aitiired of its aafety, walk forward steadying their
footsteps with the staff. Should they, as often
happens, even to the roost experienced, sink in
some quagmire, they immediately throw out the
long pole armed with the hoe, which is always
held nppermost for this porpose, and with it seizing
hold of any object within their reach, are thereby
enabled to draw themselves out ; without
the pole, however, their danger would be
greater, for the more they struggled to extricate
themselves from such places, the deeper they
would sink ; and even with it, they might perish,
I am told, in some part, if there were nobody at
hand to render them assistance. Finally, they
make use of this pole to rake about the mud
when searching for iron, copper, rope, and bones.
They mostly exhibit great sldll in discovering
these thmgs in unlikely places, and have a know-
ledge of the various sets of the tide, calculated to
carry articles to particular points, almost equal to
the dredgermen themselves. Although they can-
not " pick up " as much now as they formerly
did, they are still able to make what they call a
£ur liring, and can afford to look down with a
species of aristocratic contempt on the puny efforts
of their leas fortunate brethren the " mudlarks.'*

To enter the sewers and explore them to nny
considerable distance is considered, even by those
acquainted with what is termed "working the
shores," an adventure of no small risk. There are
a variety of perils to be encountered in such
places. The brick- work in many parts — especially
in the old sewers — has become rotten through the
continual action of the putrefying matter and
moisture, and parts have fallen down and choked
up the passage with heaps of rubbish ; over these
obstructions, nevertheless, the sewer-hunters have
to scramble "in the best way they can." In
such parts they are careful not to touch the brick-
work over head, for the slightest tap might
bring down an avalanche of old bricks and
earth, and severely injure them, if not bury them
in the rubbish. Since the construction of the
new sewers, the old ones are in general aban-
doned by the *' hunters;" but in many places the
fonner channels cross and re-cross those recently con-
structed, and in the old sewers a person is very likely
to lose his way. It is dangerous to venture far into
any of the smaller sewers branching off from the
main, for in this the "hunters" huve to stoop low
down in order to proceed ; and, from the confined
space, there are often accumulated in such places,
large quantities of foul air, which, as one of them
stated, will " cause instantious death." Moreover,
fiur from there being any romance in the tales told
of the rats, these vermin are really numerous and
formidable in the sewers, and have been known,
I am assured, to attack men when alone, and
eren sometimes when accompanied by others,
with loch fury that the people have escaped from
them with difficulty. They are particularly
ferocious and dangerous, if they be driven into
some comer whence they cannot escape, when
they will immediately fly at any one that opposes
their progress. I received a similar account to
this from one of the London flnshermen. There

are moreover, in some quarters, ditches or trenches
which are filled as the water rushes up the sewers
with the tide ; in these ditches the water is re-
tained by a sluice, which is shut down at high
tide, and lifted again at low tide, when it rushes
down the sewers with all the violence of a
mountain torrent, sweeping everything before it
If the sewer-hunter be not close to some branch
sewer, so that he can run into it, whenever the
opening of these sluices takes place, he must in-
evitably perish. The trenches or water reser-
voirs for the cleansing of the sewers are chiefly on
the south side of the river, and, as a proof of the
great danger to which the sewer-hunters are ex-
posed in such cases, it may be stated, that not
very long ago, a sewer on the south side of the
Thames was opened to be repaired ; a long ladder
reached to the bottom of the sewer, down which
the bricklayer's labourer was going with a hod of
bricks, when the rush of water from the sluice,
struck the bottom of the ladder, and instantly
swept away ladder, labourer, and all. The brick-
layer fortunately was enjoying his "pint and pipe"
at a neighbouring public- house. The labourer waa
found by my informant, a " shore-worker," near
the mouth of the sewer quite dead, battered, and
disfigured in a frightful manner. There was like-
wise great danger in former times from the rising
of the tide in the sewers, so that it was necessary
for the shore-men to have quitted them before the
water had got any height within the entrance.
At present, however, this is obviated in those
sewers where the main is furnished with an iron
door towards the river.

The shore-workers, when about to enter the
sewers, provide themselves, in addition to the long
hoe already described, with a canvas apron, which
they tie round them, and a dark Untem similar to
a policeman's ; this they strap before them on their
right breast, in such a manner that on removing the
shade, the bull's-eye throws the light straight for-
ward when they are in an erect position, and enables
them to see everything in advance of them for
some distance ; but when they stoop, it throws the
light directly under them, so that they can then
distinctly see any object at their feet. The
sewer-hunters usually go in gangs of three or four
for the soke of company, and in order that they
may be the better able to defend themselves from
the rats. The old hands who have been often up
(and every gang endeavours to include at least one
experienced person), travel a lung distance, not
only through the main sewers, but also through
many of the branches. Whenever the shore-men
come near a street grating, they close their lanterns
and watch their opportunity of gliding silently
past unobserved, for otherwise a crowd might
collect over head and intimate to the policeman on
duty, that there were persons wandering in the
sewers below. The shore- workers never take
dogs with them, lest their barking when hunting
the rats might excite attention. As the men go
along they search the bottom of the sewer, raking
away the mud with their hoe, and pick, from be-
tween the crevices of the brick-work, money, or
anything else that may have lodged there. There

E 8

162

LONDON LABOUR AND THE l6nD0N POOR,

•re in many parti of the lewerB holes where the
brick- work baa been worn away, and in these hoIe«
cluaten of articles aro foun4f wliich have been
washed into them from time to time, and i>erhaps
been collecting there for years ; such as pieces of
iron, nails, Tarious scraps of metal, coins of every
descriptioo, all rusted into a mass like a rock, and
weighing from a half hundred to two hundred
weight altogether. These *' conglomerates" of
metal are too heavy for the men to take out of the
•ewem, Ao that if unable to bieak them up, they
are compelled to leave . them behind ; and there
are rery many such masses, I am informed, lying in
the sewers at this moment, of immense weighty and
growing larger every day by continual additions.
The ahoce-men find great quantities of money —
of copper money especially ; sometimes they dive
their arm down to (he elbow in the mud and
filth and bring up shillings, sixpences, half-crowns,
and occasionally half-soyereigns and sovereigns.
They always find the coins standing edge upper-
most between the bricks in the bottom, where the
mortar has been worn away. The sewer-hunters
occasionally find plate, such as spoons, ladles, silver*
nandled knives and forks, mugs and drinking
cups, and now and then articles of jewellery ; but
even while thas " in luck" as they call it, they do
not omit to fill the bags on their backs with the
more cumbrous articles they meet with — such as
metals qf every description, rope and bones. There
is always a great quantity of these things to be
mot with in the sewers, they being continually
washed down from the cesspools and drains of the
houses. When the sewer-nunters consider they
have searched long enough, or when they have
found as much as they can conveniently take
away, the gang leave the sewers and, adjourning to
the nearest of their homes, count nut the money
they have picked up. and proceed to dispose of the
old metal, bones, rope, &c. ; this done, tiiey then, as
they term it, "whack" the whole lot; that is,
they divide it equally among all hands. At these
divisions, I am assured, it Creqm^tly occurs that
etich member of the gang will realise from 30^. to
21, — this at least tnu a frequent occurrence some
few years ago. Of late, however, the shore-men ari».
obliged to use far more caution, as the police, and
especially those connected with the river, who are
more on the alert, as well as many of the coal-
merchants in the neighbourhood of the sewers,
would give information if they saw any suspicious
persons approaching them.

The principal localities in which the shore-
hunters reside are in Mint-square, Mint-street,
and Kent-street, in the Borouuh— -Snow's-fields,
Bermondsey — and that never-failing locality be-
tween the London Docks and Eoscroarv-Iane
which appears to be a concentration of all the
misery ot the kingdom. There were known to
be a few years ago ncarlv 200 sewer-hunters,
or " toshers," and, incredible as it may appear, I
have satisfied myself that, taking one week with
another, they could not be said to make much
short of 21. per week. Their probable gains, I
was told, were about 6i. per day all the year
round. At this rate the property recovered from

the sewers of London would have amounted to
no less than 20,000/. per annum, which would
make the amount of property lost down the drstins
of each house amount to Is. id, a year. The
shore-hunters of the present day greatly com-
plain of the recent restrictions* and inveigh
in no measured terms against the constituted
authorities. " They won't let us in to work the
shores," say they, " 'cause there .'s a little danger.
They fears as how we 11 get suffocated, at least
they tells us so ; but they don't care if we get
starved ! no, they doesn't mind nothink about
that."

It is, however, more than suspected that these
men find plenty of means to evade the vigilance
of the sewer officials, and continue quietly to reap
a considerable harvest, gathered whence it might
otherwise have rotted in obscurity.

The sewer-hunters, strange as it may appear,
are certainly smart fellows, and take decided
precedence of all the other " finders " of London,
whether by land or water, both on account of the
greater amount of their earnings, and the skill
and courage they manifest in the pursuit of their
dangerous cmplo^-ment. But like all who make
a living as it were by a game of chance, plodding,
carefulness, and saving habits cannot be reckoned
among their virtues ; they are improvident, even
to a proverb. With their gains, superior even to
those of the better-paid artizans, and fiir beyond
the amount received by many clerks, who have
to maint-iin a "respectable appearance," the shore-
men might, with but ordinary' prudence, live
well, have comfortable homes, and even be able
to save sufficient to provide for themselves in their
old age. Their practice, however, is directly the
reverse. They no sooner make a " haul," as they
say, than they adjourn to some low public-house
in the neighbourhood, and seldom leave till
empty pockets and hungry stomachs drive them
forth to procure the means for a fresh debauch.
It is principHlly on this account that, despite
their Lirge gains, they are to be found located in
the most wretched quarter of the metropolis.

It might be supposed that the sewer-huntirs
(passing much of their time in the midst of the
noisome vapours generated by the sewers, the
odour of which, escaping upwards from the grat-
ings in the streets, is dreaded and shunned by all
as something pestilential) would exhibit in their
pill I id faces the unmistakable evidence of their
unhealthy employment. But this is £ar from the
fact Strange to say, the sewer-hunters are strong,
robust, and healthy men, generally florid in their
complexion, while manv of them know illness
only by name. Some of the elder men, who head
the gangs when exploring the sewers, aro between
60 and 80 years of age, and have followed the
employment during their whole lives. The men
appear to have a fixed belief that the odour of
the sewers contributes in a variety of ways to
their general health ; nevertheless, they admit
that accidents occ-isionally occur from the air in
some places being fully impregnated with mephitic

I found one of these men, from whom I derived

LONDON LABOUR AND TUB LONDON POOR.

168

much mforiBAtion, and who i« rcilly an active
intelligent roan, iu a court off Rtjsemary-lane,
Acceas is gained to this court through a dark
narrow entrance, scarcely wider tlian a doorway,
roniixug beneath the first floor of one of the
bou8«s in the adjoining street The court itself is
about 50 yards Ioug» and not moro. than three
yards wide, surrounded by lofty wooden houses,
with jutting abutments in many of the upper
stories that almo^it exclude the light, and give them
the appearance of being about to tumble dowq
upon the heads of the intruders. This court is
densely inhabited ; every room has its own iJEunily,
more ur less in numher ; and in many of thorn,
I am assured, there are two &milies residing, the
better to enable the one to whom the room is let
to p.iy the rent. At the time of my vi^tit, which
was in the evening, after the inmates had returned
from their various employments, some quarrel had
arisen among them. The court was so thronged
with the friendii qf the contending individuals and
spectators of the fight that I was obliged to stand
at tiie entrance, unable to force my way through
the dense multitude, while labourers aud street-
folk with shagxy heads, and womrn with dirty
caps, and fuzzy hair, thronged every window
above, and peered down anxiously at the affray.
There must have been some hundreds of people
collected there, and yet. all were .inhabitants of
this very court, for the noise of the quarrel had
not yet reached the street. On wondering at the
number, m J. informant, when the noise, had ceased,
explained the matter as follows : " You see, sir,
there 's more than 30 houses in this here court,
and there's not less than eight rooms iu every
house ; now there 's nine or ten people in some of
the rooms, I knows, but just say four in every
Totan, and calculate what that there comes to." I
did, and found \X, to my surprise, to be 960.
" Well," continued my informant, chuckling and
rubbing his hands in evident delight at the re-
sult, "you may as well just tack a couple a
hundred on to the tail o' them for make- weight,
as we 're not worry pertiklcr about a hundred
or two one way or the other in these here
placet."

In this court, up three flights of narrow stairs
that creaked and trembled at every footstep, and
in an ill-furnished garret, dwelt the shore-worker
— a man. who, had he been careful, according to
his own account at least, might have money in the
bank avd he the proprietor of the house in which
he lived. The sewer-hunters, like the street-people,
are all known by some peculiar nickname, derived
chiefly from some personal chanicteristic. It
would be a waste of time to inquire for them by
their right naineS| even if you were acquainted
with then, for none else would know them, and
no intelligciu:c concerning them could be ob-
tained: while under tho title of Lanky Bill,
long Tom, One-eyed George, Short-anned Jack,
they are known to every one.

Hy informant, who is also dignified with a title,
or as he calls it a " handle to his name," gave me
the following acconpt of himself : " I was born in
Birmingham, but afore I recollects anythiuk, we

- came to London. The first thing I remembers is
I being down on the shore at Cuckold's F'int, when
j the tide was out and up to my knees in mud, and
j a gitting down deeper and deeper every minute till
I was picked up by one of the shore-workers. I
used to git down there every day, to look at the
ships and boats a sailing up and down ; I 'd niver
bo tired a looking at them at that time. At last
father 'prenticed me to a blacksmith in Bermondsey,
and then I couldn't git down to the river vhen I
liicd, to I got to hate the forge and Oiefire, and
blowing the hcUovtf and couldn't stand the con'
finement no how, — at last I cutt and runt. After
some time they gits me back ag'in, but I cuts ag'in.
I was determined not to stand it. I wouldn't go
home for fear I 'd be sent back, iq I goes down to
Cuckold's P'int and there I sits near half the day,
when who should I see but the old un as bad
picked me up out of the mud when I was a
sinking, I telU him all about it, and he takes me
home along with hissel^and giu me a bag and an
o, and takes me out next day, and shows me
what to do, and shows me the d;ingerous places,
and the places what are safe, and how to rake. in
the mud for rope, and bones, and iron, and that 's
the way t coined to be a shore-worker. I^or bless
you, I 've worked Cuckold s P'ipt (or more nor
twenty year. 1 know places where you 'd go over
head and ears .in the mud, and jist alongside on
'em you may walk as safe as you can on this floor.
But it don't do for a stranger to try it, he 'd wery
soon git in, and it 's not bo easy to git out agin,
I can tell you. I stay'd with the old un a long
time, and we used to git lots o' tin, specially when
we 'd go to work the sewers. I liked that well
enough. I could git into small places where the
old un couldn't, and when I *d got near the grating
in the street, I 'd search about in the bottom of the
sewer ; I *4 put down my arm to my shoulder in
the mud and bring up shillings and half-crowns,
and lots of coppers, and plenty other things. I
once found a silver jug as big as a quart pot, and
often found spoons nnd knives and forks and every
thing you can think of. Bless your heart the
smells nothink ; it's a roughish smell at first, but
nothink near so bod as you thinks, 'cause, you
see, there 's sich lots o' water always a coming
down the sewer, and the air gits in from the
gratings, and that helps to sweeten it a bit
There 's some places, 'specially in the old sewers,
where they say there 's foul air, and they tells me
the foul air 'ill cause instanti«ms death, ^t I niver
met with anythink of the kind, and I think if
there was sich a thing I should know somethiuk
about it, for I *ve worked the sewers, off and on,
for twenty year. When we comes to a narrow-
place as we don't know, we takes the candle out
of the lantern and fiistens it on the bend of the
o, and then runs it up the sewer, and if the light
stays in, we knows as there a'n't no danger. We
used to go up the city sewer at Black friars -bridge,
but that 's stopped up now ; it 's boarded across
inside. The city wouldn't let us up if they knew
it, 'cause of the danger, they say, but they don't
care if we hav'n't got nothink to eat nor a place to
put our heads in, while there 's plenty of money

154

LONDON LABOUR AND TUB LONDON POOR.

Ijing there and good for nobody. If you waa
caught up it and brought afore the Lord Mayor,
he 'd give yon fourteen days on it, as safe as the
bellows, so a good many on us now is afraid to
wentnre in. We don't wentnre as we used to,
but still it 's done at times. There 's a many places
as I knows on where the bricks has fidlen down,
and that there 's dangerous ; it 's so delaberated
that if you touches it with your head or with the
hend of the o, it 'ill all come down atop o' you.
I 're often seed as many aa a hundred rats at once,
and they 're woppers in the sewers, I can tell you;
them there water rats, too, is hx more ferocionser
than any other nts, and they 'd think nothink of
tackling a man, if they found they couldn't get
away no how, but if thenr can why they runs by and
giu out 0* the road. I knows a chap as the rats
tackled in the sewers ; they bit him hawfully : yon
must ha' heard on it ; it was him as the water-
men went in arter when they heard him a shouting
as they was a rowin' by. Only for the watermen
the rats would ha' done for him, safe enough. Do
you recollect hearing on the man aa was found in
the sewers about tweWe year ago 1 — oh you must —
the rats eat every bit of him, and left nothink but
his bones. I knowed him well, he was a rig'lar
shore-worker.

" The rata is wery danserons, that 's sartain, but
we always goes three or nmr on us together, and
the varmint 's too wide awake to tackle us then,
for they know they 'd git off second best. Ton can
go a long way in the sewers if you like ; I don't
know how fiir. I niver was at the end on
them myself, for a cove can't stop in longer than
six or seven hour, 'cause of the tide; you must
be out before that 's up. There 's a many
branches on ivery side, but we don't go into
all; we go where we know, and where we're
always sure to find somethink. I know a
place now where there 's more than two or three
hundred weight of metal all rusted together, and
plenty of money among it too ; but it 's too heavy
to carry it out, so it 'ill stop there I s'pose till
the world comes to an end. I often brought
out a piece of metal half a hundred in weight,
and took it under the harch of the bridge, and
broke it up with a large stone to pick out the
money. I 've found sovereigns and half sovereigns
over and over ag'in, and three on us has often
cleared a couple of pound apiece in one day out
of the sewer*. But we no sooner got the money
than the publican had it I only wish I 'd back
all the muney I 've guv to the publican, and I
wouldn't care how the wind blew for the rest of
my life. I never thought about taking a hammer
along with me into the sewer, no ; I never thought
I 'd want it. You can't go in every day, the tides
don't answer, and they 're so pertikler now, far
more pertikler than formerly ; if you was known
to touch the traps, yon 'd git hauled up afore the
beak. It 's done for all that, and though there u
so many eyes about The "Johnnys" on the
water are always on the look out, and if they sees
any on us about, we has to cut our lucky. We
shore-workers sometimes does very well other
ways. When we hears of a fire anywheres, we

goes and watches where they shoots the rubbish,
and then we goes and sifts it over, and washes it
afterwards, their all the metal sinks to the bottom.
The way we does it is this here : we takes a
barrel cut in half, and fills it with water, and then
we shovels in the sifUngs, and stirs 'em round and
round and round with a stick ; then we throws
out that water and puts in some fresh, and stira
that there round ag'in ; arter some time the water
gets clear, and every thing heavy 's fell to the bot-
tom, and then we sees what it is and picks it out
I 've made from a pound to thirty shilling a day, at
that there work on lead alone. The time the Parlia-
ment Hoosea waa burnt, the mbbish waa shot in
Hyde Park, and Long J — and I goes to work it,
and while we were at it, we didn't make less nor
three pounds apiece a day ; we found sovereigns
and half sovereigns, and lots of silver half melted
away, and jewellery, such as rings, and stones,
and brooches; but we never got half paid for
them. I found two sets of bracelets for a lady's
arms, and took 'em to a jeweller, and he tried
them jist where the " great " heat had melted the
catch away, and found they was only metal double
phited, or else he said as now he 'd give ns thirty
pounds for them ; howsomever, we takes them
down to a Jew in Petticoat-lane, who used to buy
things of US, and he givea us 7^ lOf. for *em. We
found io many things, that at last Long J — and
I got to quarrel about the *' whacking ; " there was
cheatin' a goin' on ; it wasn't all mir and above
board as it ought to be, so we gits to figfatin', and
kicks np sich a jolly row, that they wouldn't let
ns work no more, and takes and buries the whole
on the mbbish. There 's plenty o' things under
the ground along with it now, if anybody could
git at them. There was jist two loads o' rubbish
shot at one time in Bishop Bonner's-fields, which
I worked by myself, and what do you think I
made out of that there 1 — why I made 3/. 5s, The
rubbish was got out of a cellar, what hadn't been
stirred for fifty year or more, so I thinks there
ought to be somethink in it, and I keeps my eye
on it, and watches where it 's shot; then I turns
to work, and the first thing I gits hold on is a
chain, which I takes to be copper; it was so
dirty, but it turned out to be all solid goold, and
I gets 1/. 5«. for it from the Jew ; arter that I
finds lots o' coppers, and silver money, and many
things besides. The reason Ilika (kit sort of lift
is, 'cause I can sit down vhen Hikes, and nobody
can't order me abotU. When I 'm hard up, I
knows as how I must work, and then I goes at it
like sticks a breaking ; and tho' the times isn't as
they was, I can go now and pick np my four or
five bob a day, where another wouldn't know how
to get a brass farden."

There is a strange tale in existence among the
shore-workers, of a race of wild hogs inhabiting the
sewers in the neighbourhood of Hampstead. The
story runs, that a sow in young, by some accident
got down the sewer through an opening, and,
wandering away from the spot, littered and reared
her offspring in the drain, feeding on the offid
and garbage washed into it continually. Here, it
is alleged, the breed multiplied exceedingly, and

THE LONDON DUSTMAN.
Dust Hoi! Dust Hoi!

LONDON LAhOUR AND TUB LONDON POOR,

155

hare beqome almost as ferocious at tliey arc
numerous. This story, apocryi>hal as it Bccnu,
has nevertheli'ss its believers, and it is ingeniouAly
arguedf that the reaaon why uoiit: of the subterra-
nean animals have been able to make their way to
the light of day i«i that. they could only do so by
reaching the mouth of the sewer at the river-side,
while, in order to arrive at that point, they must
necessarily encounter the Fleet ditch, wbi^ runs
towaids the river with great rapidity, and as it is
the obstinate nature of a pig to swim agaimt the
siream, the wild . hogs of the . sewers mvariably
work their way bock to their original quarters, and
are thus never to be seen. What seems strange
in the matter is, that the inhabitants of Hamp-
Stoad never have been known to scto any of these
animals pass beneath the gratings, nor to have
been disturbed by their gruntings. The reader
of oourse c^ believe as much of the story as he

E leases, and it is ^ght to inform him that the sewer-
unters thems^yes have never yet e|vcouutered
any of the fabulous monsters of the Ilampstead
sewers.

Of thb Mud-Labks.
Tbkbs ii another chiss who may be termed river-
fioderi, although their occupation is connected
only with the shore ; they are commonly known
by the name of " mud-larks,'' from being compelled,
in order to obtain the arilcles they seek, to wade
sometimes up to their middle through the mud left
on the shore by the retiring tide. These poor
creatures are certainly about the most deplorable
in their.appearance of any I liave mot with in the
coarse of my inquiries, They may be seen of all
ages,. from mere childhood to positive decrepitude,
crawling among the barges at the ^'arious wharfs
alonig.thf river ; it ainnot be said that they are clad
in ngs, for they, are scan^ely half covered by the ;
tattered indescribable things that serve them for j
clothing; their bodies ^re grimed with the foul I
Mil of the ri.rer, and their torn garments stitfened i
up like boards with dirt of every possible de-
scription. I

Among the mud-Urks may be seen many old
women, and it is indeed pitiable to behold them, espe- '
dally during the winter, bent nearly double with age I
and infirmity, paddling and groping among the j
wet mud for small pieces of coal, chips uf wood, j
or any sort of jtfnse washed up by the tide. These I
women always have with them an old basket or j
an oU tin kettle, ^i which they put whatever they |
chance to find. It usually takea them a wliole '
tide to fill this recepttcle, but when filled, it is as
much as the feeble old creatures are able to carry
home.

. Th« mu4-Iarks generally live in some court
or alley in the neighbourhood of the river,
and, as the tide recedes, crowds of boys and
little girls, some old men, and many old women,
may be observed loitering about the various
stain, watching eagerly for the opportunity to
commence their labours. When the tide is sufii-
ciently low they scatter themselves along the
shore, separating from each other, ai^d soon dis-
appear among the craft lying about in every direc-

tion. This is the case on both sides of the river,
OS high up as there, is anyihinr; to be found, ex-
truding as f;ir as Vauxhall-bridge, and as low down
as Wuolwicb. The mud-larks themselves, how-
ever, kpow only those who reside near them, and
whom they are accustomed to meet in their (iai\y
pursuits ; indeed, with but few exceptions, these
people are dull, n:id apparently jstupid ,* this is 9b-
servable particularly among the boj-s and girls, who,
when engaged in searching the mud, hold but
little converse one with another. The men and
women may be passed and repassed, but they
notice no one ; they never speak, but with a stolid
look of wretchedness they plash their way through
the mire, their bodies bent down while they peer
anxiously about, and occasinnally stoop to pick up
some paltry treasure that falls in their way.

The mud-larks collect whatever they happen to
find, such as coals, bits of old-iron, rope, bones,
and copper nails that drop from ships while lying
or repairing along shore. Copper nails arc the
most valuable of all the articles they find, but
these tiiey seldom obtain, as they arc always
driven from the neighbourhood of a ship while
bei^ig new-sheathi-d. Sometimes the younger
and bolder mud-larks venture on sweeping some
empty coal-b.-vge, and one little fellow with whom
I spoke. Laving been lately caught in the act of
so doing, had t) undergo for the oifence seven
days' imprisonment in the House of Correction :
this, he says, he liked much better than mud: larking,
for while he stiid there he wore a coat and shoes
and stockings, and though he had not over much
to eat, he certainly was never afraid of going to
bed without anything at all — as he often had to
do when at liberty. He thought he would try
it on again in the winter, he told me, saying, it
would be so comfortable to have clothes and shoes ,
and stockings tlien, and not bo obliged to go into
the cold wet mud of a morning. I

The coals that the mud-larks find, they sell to .
the poor people of the ueighboiirliond at \d. per
pot, holding abuut 14 lbs. The iron and bones
an4 rope and copper nails which they collect, they
sell at the rag-shops. They dispose of the iron
at 5 lbs. for \d., the bones at 3 lbs. a 1(^, rope
a \d. per lb. wet, and \d. per lb. dry, and cop-
per nails at the rate of \d. i^Qt lb. They oc-
casionally pick up tools, 5uch as saws and ham-
mers; these they dispose of to the seamen for
biscuit and meat, and sometimes sell them at
the rag-shops for a few halfpence. In this man-
ner they earn from 2\d. to 8f/. per day, but
rarely the Litter sum ; their average gains may
be estimated at about Zd. per day. The boys,
after leaving the river, sometimes scrape their
trousers, ana frequent the cab-stands, and try to
earn a trifle by opening the cab-doors for those
who enter them, or by holding gentlemen's horses.
Some, of them go, in the evening, to a ragged
school, in the neighbourhood of which they live ;
more, as they say, because other boys go there,
than from any desire to learn.

At one of the stairs in the neighbourhood of
the pool, I collected about a doxen of these un-
fortunate children; there waa not one of them

I

156

LONDOir LABOUR AND THB LONDON POOR.

orer twelre yean of age, and many of tbem were
Imt MX. It would be almoit impoeiible to describe
the wretched gronp, lo motley waa their appear-
ance, so extnu>rdinary their dreti, and lo atolid
and inezpreanTe their conntenancei. Some carried
baeketa, fUled with the produce of their moming*e
work, and others old tin kettles with iron handles.
Scnne, for want of these articles, had old hats filled
with the bones and coals they had picked up ; and
others, more needy still, had actually taken the

Xfirom their own heads, and filled them with
they had happened to find. The muddy
slush was dripping from their clothes and utensils,
and forming a puddle in which they stood. There
did not appear to be among the whole group as
manr filthy cotton rags to their backs as, when
stitched together, would hare been sufficient to
form the material of one shirt. There were the
remnants of one or two jackets among them, but
so begrimed and tattered that it would hare been
difficult to have determined either the original ma-
terial or make of the garment. On questioninff
one, ho said his father was a coal-backer ; he had
been dead eight years ; the boy was nine years
old. His mother was alire ; she went out charing
and washinff when she codd get any such work
to do. She kad 1«. a day when she could get em-
ployment, but that was not often ; he remembered
once to hare had a pair of shoes, but it was a long
tioM sinbe. " It is rery cold in winter,** he said,
"to stand in the mud without shoes," but he did
not mind it in summer. He had been three years
mud-larking, and supposed he should remain a
mud-lark all his life. What else could ho be 1 for
there was nothing else that he knew koto to do.
Some days he earned let., and some days id. \ he
never earned 8(2. in one day, that would have
been a "jolly lot of money." He never found
a saw or a hammer, he "only wished" he could,
they would be glad to get hold of them at the
dolly's. He had been one month at school
before he went mud-larking. Some time ago
he had gone to the ragged-school; but he no
longer went there, for he forgot it. He could
neither read nor write, and did not think he could
learn if he tried " ever so much." He didn't know
what religion his father and mother were, nor did
know what religion meant. God was Gk>d, he
said. He had heard he was good, but didn't
know what good he was to him. He thought he
was a Christian, but he didn't know what a
Christian was. He had heard of Jesus Christ
once, when he went to a Catholic chapel, but he
never heard tell of who or what he was, and
didn't "particuUr care" about knowing. His
fiither and mother were bom in Aberdeen, but he
didn't know where Aberdeen was. London was
England, and England, he said, was in London,
but he couldn't tell in what part. He could not
tell where he would go to when he died, and
didn't believe any one could tell that. Prayers, he
told me, were what people said to themselves at
night He never said any, and didn't know any ;
his mother sometimes used to speak to him about
them, but he could never learn any. His mother
didn't go to church or to chapel, because she had

no clothes. All the money he got he gave to hit
mother, and she bought bread with it, and when
they had no money they lived the best way they
could.

Such was the amount of intelligence manifeated
by this unfi>rtnnate child.

Another was only sewn jrears old. H« stated
that his father was a sailor who had been hurt on
board ship, and been unable to go to sea for the
last two years. He had two brothers and a sister,
one of them older than himself; and his dder
brother was a mud-lark like himsell The two
had been mud-larking more than a year; they
went because they saw other boys go, and knew
that they got money for the tlungs they found.
They were ofUn hungry, and glad to do anything
to get something to eat. Their father was not
able to earn anything, and their mother could get
but little to do. They gave all the money they
earned to their mother. They didn't gamble, and
play at pitch and toss when they hsid got aome
money, but some of the big boys did on the
Sunday, when they didn't go a mud-btfking. He
couldn't tell why they did nothing on a Sunday,
" only they didn't ; '* though sometimes they looked
about to see where the bMt pUce would be on the
next day. He didn't go to the ragged sdiod ; he
should like to know how to read a book, though he
couldn't tell what good it would do him. He
didn't like mud larking, would be glad of some-
thing else, but didn't know anything else that he
could do.

Another of the boys was the son of a dock
labourer,— casually employed. He was between
seven and eight years of age, and his sister, who
was also a mud-lark, formed one of the group.
The mother of these two was dead, and there
were three children younger than themselves.

The rest of the histories may easily be imagined,
for there was a painful uniformity in the stories
of all the children : they were either the chil-
dren of the very poor, who, by their own im-
providence or some overwhelming calamity, had
been reduced to the extremity of distress, or else
they were orphans, and compelled from utter
destitution to seek for the means of appeasing their
hunger in the mud of the river. That the majority
of this class are ignorant, and without even the
rudiments of education, and that many of them
from time to time are committed to prison for petty
thefts, cannot be wondered at. Nor can it even
excite our astonishment that, once within the walls
of a prison, and finding how much more comfort-
able it is than their previous condition, they should
return to it repeatedly. As for the females
growing up under such circumstances, the worst
may be anticipated of them ; and in proof of this
I have found, upon inquiry, that very many of the
unfortunate creatures who swell the tide of prosti-
tution in Batcliff- high way, and other low neiffh-
bourhoods in the East of London, have originally
been mud-lar^s ; and only remained at that occu-
pation till such time as they were capable of
adopting the more easy and more lucrative lift of
the prostitute.

As to the numbers and earnings of the mod- I

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

167

Jmrkf, the following calculationi fall short of, rather
than exceed, the tmth. From Execution Dock to
the lower part of Limehonie Hole, there are 14
itain or landing-places, by which the mad-larks
descend to the shore in order to pursoe their
employment There are about as many on the
opposite side of the water similarly frequented.

At King James' Stairs, in Wapping Wall, which
is nearly a central position, from 40 to 60 mud-
larks go down daily to the rirer ; the mud-hurks
" tising" the other stairs are not so numerouf. If,
therefore, we reckon the number of stairs on both
sides of the rirer at 28, and the average number
o! mud-larkf frequenting them at 10 each, we
shall hare a total of 280. Bach mud-lark, it
has been shown, earns on an aTerage Sd, a day, or
1«. 6d. per week ; so that the annual earnings of
each will be 8^ 18«., or say 42., a year, and hence
the gross earnings of the 280 will amount to rather
more than lOOCS. per annum.

But there are, in addition to the mud-larks em-
ployed in the neighbourhood of what may be
called the pool, many others who work down the
rirer at rarious places as far as Black wall, on the one
tide, and at Deptford, Greenwich, and Woolwich,
on the other. These frequent the neighbourhoods
of the varioua " yards" along shore, where ressels
are being built ; and whence, at certain times,
chips, small pieces of wood, bits of iron, and
copper nails, are washed out into the river. There
is but little doubt that this portion of the class
earn much more than the mud-larks of the pool,
seeing that they are especialiy conrenient to the
plaees where the iron ressels are constructed ; so
that the pretumption is, that the number of mnd-
kriu *'at work** on the banks of the Thames
(etpeeiany if we include those abore bridge), and
the Talne of the property extracted by them from
the mud of the rirer, may be fiuriy estimated at
dovble that which is stated abore, or say 550
gaining 20002. per annum.

As an illustration of the doctrines I have en-
dearoured to enforce throughout this publication,
I dte the following history of one of the above
cIms. It may serve to teach those who are still
sceptical as to the degrading influence of circum-
stancet upon the poor, that many of the humbler
clasMi, it phMcd in the same easy position as our-
selres, woiild become, perhaps, quite as ''respect-
able** msnben of society.

The kd of whom I speak was discovered by
me now nsariy two years ago " mud-larking" on
the banks of the river near the docks. He was
a quick, intelligent little fellow, and had been at
the bosbess, he told me, about three years. He
had taken to mud-larking, he said, because his
dotlMt were too bad for him to look for any-
thing better. He worked every day, with 20
or 80 boys, who might all be seen at day-
break with their trowsers tucked up, groping
aboat^ and picking out the pieces of conl m>m
the mud on the buiks of the Thames. He went
into the rirer up to his knees, and in searching
the mod he often mn pieces of glass and long
naila into his feet. When this was the case, he
went home and dressed the wounds, but returned

to the rirer-side directly, "for should the tide
come up," he added, " without my having found
something, why I must starve till next low tide."

In the very cold weather he and his other shoe-
less companions used to stand in the hot water
that ran down the rirer side from some of the
steam-fiictories, to warm their froaen feet.

At first he found it difficult to keep his footing
in the mud, and he had known many beginners
fall in. He came to my house, at my request, the
morning after my first meeting with him. It
was the depth of winter, and the poor little fellow
was neariy destitute of clothing. His trousers
were worn away up to his knees, he had no shirty
and his legs and feet (which were bare) were
covered with chilblains. On being questioned by
me he gave the following account of his life : —

^ He was fourteen years old. He had two
sisters, one fifteen and the other twelre yean of
age. His &ther had been dead nine years. The
man had been a coal-whipper, and, from getting
his work from one of the publican employers in
those days, had become a confirmed drunkard.
When he married he held a situation in a ware-
house, where his wife managed the first year to
save 42. 10«. out of her husband's earnings ; but
from the day he took to coal-whipping she had
never saved one halfpenny, indeed she and her
children were often left to starve. The man
(whilst in a state of intoxication) had fallen be-
tween two barges, and the injuries he reoeired
had been so serere that he had lingered in a
helpless state for three years before his death.
Afier her husband's decease the poor woman's
neighbours subscribed 12. 5f . for her; with this
sum she opened a greengrocer's shop, and got on
very well for five years.

When the boy was nine years old his mother
sent him to the Bed Lion school at Green-bank,
near Old Gravel-lane, Batdifie-highway; she paid
l(i. a week for his learning. He remained there
for a year; then the potato-rot came, and his
mother lost upon all sne bought About the
same time two of her customers died 80«. in her
debt ; this loss, together with the potato-disease,
completely ruined her, and the whole femily had
been in the greatest poverty from that period.
Then she was obliged to take all her children
from their school, that they might help to keep
themselves as best they could. Her eldest giri
sold fish in the streets, and the boy went to the
river-side to " pick up" his living. The change,
however, was so great that shortly afterwards
the little fellow lay ill eighteen weeks with the
ague. As soon as the boy recovered his mother
and his two sisters were "taken bad" with
a fever. The poor woman went into the " Great
House, * and the children were taken to the Fever
Hospital. When the mother returned home she
was too weak to work, and all she had to depend
on was what her boy brought from the rirer.
They had nothing to eat and no money until
the little fellow had been down to the shore and
picked up some coals, selling them for a trifle.
" And hard enough he had to work for what he
got, poor boy," said his mother to me on a future

158

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

occasion, sobbing; "still he never complained,
but was quite proud when he broiu'ht hoTn<<
enough for us to get a bit of meat with ; and
when he has sometimes seen me down-hearted,
he has clung round my neck, and assured mt'
that one day God would see us cared for if 1
would put my trust ia Him." As soon as liis
mother was well enough she sold fruit in the
streets, or went out washing when she could get
a day's worV..

The lad suffered much from the pieces of broken
glass in the mud. Some little time before I met
with him he had run a copper nail into his foot
This lamed him fur thiee months, and his mother
was obliged to carry him on hnr back every morn-
ing to the doctor. As soon, however, as he could
"hobble" (to use his mother's own words) he
went back to the river, and often returned (after
many hours' hard work in the mud) with only a
few pieces of coal, not enough to sell even to get
them a bit of bread. One evening, as he wii*
warming his feet in the water that ran from a
Bteaui factory, he heard some boys talking about
the Ragged School in II igh -street, Wapping.

"They was saying what they used to learn
there," added the boy. " They asked me to come
along with them for it was great fun. They told
me that all the boys used to be laughing and
making game of the master. They said thc^' used
to put out the gas and chuck the slates all about.
They told me, too, that there was a good fire there,
so I went to have a warm and see what it was
like. When I got there the master was very
kind to me. They used to give us tea-parties, and
to keep us quiet they used to show us the magic
lantern. I soon got to like going there, and went
every night for six months. There was about 40 or
50 boys in the school. The most of them was
thieves, and thev used to go thieving the coals out
of barges along shore, and cutting the ropes off ships,
and going and selling It at the rag-shops. They
used to get ld,tL lb. for the rope when dry, and .^(/.
when wet Some used to steal pudding out of shops
and hand it to those outside, and the last boy it
was handed to would go off with it. They used to
steal bacon and bread sometimes ns well. About
half of the boys at the school was thieves. Some had
work to do at ironmongers, leud-factories, engineers,
aoap- boilers, and so on, and some had no work
to do and was good boys still. After we came
out of school at nine o'clock at night, some of the
bad boys would go a thieving, perhaps hnlfa-dozen
and from that to eight would go out in a gang
together. There was one big boy of the name of

C ; he was 18 years old, and is in prison now

for stealing bacon ; I think he is in the IIous*^ of

Correction. This C used to go out of school

before any of us, and wait outside the door as the
other boys came out Then he would call the
boys he wanted for his gangs on one side, and tell
them where to go and steal. He used to look out
in the daytime for shops where things could be
'prigged,' and at night he would tell the boys to
go to them. He was called the captain of the
gangs. He had about three gangs altogether with
him, and there were from six to eight boys in each

I gang. The boys used to bring what they stole to
! C , and he used to share it with them. I be-
longed to one of the gangs. There were six boys
altogether in my gang; the biggest lad, that
knowed all about the thieving, was the captain of

the gang I was in, and C was captain over him

and over all of us.

" There was two brothers of them ; you seed
them, sir, the night you first met me. The other

boys, as was in my gang, was B fi , and

B — L , and W B , and a boy we

used to call 'Tim;' these, with myself, used to
make up one of the gangs, and we all of us used
to go a thieving every night after school-hours.
When the tide would be right up, and we
had nothing to do along shore, we used to go

thieving in the daytime as well. It was B

B , and B L , as first put me up

to go thieving; they took me with them, one
night, up the lane [New Gravel-lane], and I see
them take some bread out of a baker's, and they
wasn't found out ; and, after that, I used to go

with them regular. Then I Joined C *s

gang; and, after that, C came and told us

that his gang could do better than oum, and he
asked us to join our gang to his'n, and we did to.
Sometimes we used to make Zt. or 4«. a day;
or about 6(2. apiece. While waiting outside the
school-doors, before they opened, we used to plan
up where we would go thieving after school was
over. I was taken up once for thieving coals
myself, but I was let go again."

I was so much struck with the boy's truth-
fulness of manner, that I asked him, mjuld, he
really lead a different life, if he saw a means
of so doing] He assured me he would, and
begged me earnestly to try him. Upon his
halving me, 2s. were given him for his trouble.
This sninll sum (I afterwards learned) kept the
family for more than a fortnight. The girl laid it
out in sprats (it being then winter-time) ; these
she sold in the streets.

I mentioned the fact to a literary friend, who
interested himself in the boy's welfare ; and even-
tually succeeded in procuring him a situation at an
eminent printer's. The subjoined letter will show
how the lad conducted himsielf while there.

" Whitcfriara. April 22, 185a
" McMr«. Br.idbury and Kvans beg to say that the
l)oy J. r. has conductcil himtelf in a very satisfactory
manner sinve he has been in their employment"

The same literary friend took the girl into bit
service. She is in a situation still, though not in
the same fismily.

The boy now holds a good situation at one of the
daily newspaper offices. So well has he behared
himself, that, a few weeks since, his wages were
increased from 6s. to dt. per week. Hia mother
(owing to the boy's exertions) has now a little
shop, and is doing well.

This simple story requires no comments, and is
narrated here in the hope that it may teach many
to know how often the poor boys reared in the
gutter are thieres, merely because society forbids
them being honest lads.

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR,

159

These public cleansen are to be tbm claisi-
fied:-

1. Dnttmen, or those who empty and remo^
the collection of ashes, bones, vegetables, ftc,
deposited in the dost-bins, or other lefnse reeep*
tacles throughout the xiiietmpolis. >

2. Nightmen, or those who remove the contents
of the cesspools. *

3. Sweeps, or those who remove the soot from
the chimneys.

4. Si-avengers, or those who remove the dirt
from the stret* ts, ronds, and markeU.

Let nie, however, before proceeding fhrther
with the subject, lay before the reader the follow-
ing important return as to the ej^ent and contents
of this prodigious city : for this document I am
indebted to the Commissioners of Police, g^tte-
men from whom I have derived the most viduable
information since the commencement of my in-
quiries, and to whose courtesy and consideratibti
I am anxious to acknowledge my many obliga-
tions.

EETUBN SHOWma THB EXTENT, POPULATION, AND POLICE FOECE IN THE
MBTEOPOLITAN POLICE DISTRICT AND THK CITY OF LONDON IN SEPTEM-
BS^"1S50.

Of THS LoiTDoir Dttstxeh, NioHTMEir, Sweeps,

' JLEn BCATCVOEEB.

Thbb men constitnte a large body, and are a
cbss who, all things considered, do their work
silently and e^ciently. Almost wit)ioat the cog-
nisance of the mass of the people, the rsfiise is
imnoved from our streets and bouses; and Jiondon,
at if in the care of a tidy housewife, is a/trnj^
being cleaned. Great as are the fruits and ab-
aurdiiies of many paru of our system of nublic
cleansing, nevertheless, when compared witb the
state of things in any eontinental capital, the
superiority of t|i« metropolis of Great Britain is
indisputable.

In all this matter there is little merit to be
attributed to the workmen, except that they may
be well drilled i for the minority of them are as
much machines, apart from their animation, as are
the cane and whalebone made to cleanse the
chimney, or the clumsy-looking machine which,
in its piogrsss, is • vehicular scavenger, sweeinng
•sit

Metropolitan Police District*.

1

— --

' nty of
Lonifon %.

Grand

Inner

Outer

Tottl.

Dbtrielt.

District.

7001

Area (in square miles)

91

609i

If

702J

Parishes

82

136

218

97

816

Btrseta, Eoads, &c. (length of, in miles)

1,700

1,936

3.636

60

8,686

Number of Hooses inhabited .

289,912

69.995

349.907

16,613

365,520

„ „ uninhabited .

11,868

1.487

13,305

887

18,692

„ „ being built .

4.684

1,097

6,731

23

6,754

Popnlatioii

PolicaFbrce

1,986,629

850,331

2,836,960

125,000

2,461,960

4,844

660

6,604

668

6,072

18a Sepiembfr, 1860.

* The Metropolitan Police District oompnies a cirele.the radiui of which Is 15 miles from Charing Cross t the
estitaie bonudaij on the N. hiehides the parish of Cheshunt and South Minros ) on the .S., Kpsom i on the ■.,
Ditfcnhani aad Crayford ; and on the W.. Uxbridge and Staines.

t Thefmier dbtriet inehidesthe parish of St. John, Hampstcad, on the N.; Tooting and Streatham on the S.;
Baltaifl and Brmtfefd on the W. t and Greenwich on the E.

The RM^strar Oaocral's District is equal, or nearly so. to the inner Metropolitan Police District.

X The C^ of London it bounded on the S. by the River, on the K. by Whitechapel, on the W. by Chancery

me. end If. by Iliisbury.

But if the extent of even this " inner district **
be so vast as almost to overpower the mind with
its magnitude — ^if iu population be greater than
that of the entire kingdom of Hanover, and almost
equal to that of the republic of Switzerland — if
its houses be so numerous that placed side by side
they would form one continuous line of dwellings
fipom its centre to Moscow — if its streets and roadl
be nearly equal in length to one quarter of the
diameter of the earth itself, — what a task must the
cleansing of such a bricken wilderness be, and yet,
assuredly, though it be by far the greatest, it is
QQr KOK A^ t^e *>!"« ^i"i« by ^ the cleanest city in the

' worid.

The removal of the refuse of a large town is,
perhaps, one of the most important of social ope-
rations. Not only is it necessary fnr the well-
being of a vast aggregation of people that the

The total here given can hardly be considered as
the dhnensldns or the metropolis ; though, where
the cspital begins and ends, it Is difficult to say.
If, however. I^don be regarded as concentring
withfai the Inner Tolice District, then, adding the
extent and contents of that district to those erf* the
City.as above detailed, we have the subjoined state-
mast as to the dimensions and inhabitants of the
Mttrofiolii ProjHr,
Area .... 92} square miles.
Parishes .179

Length bf street, roads, Ac. 1760 miles.
Number ' of inhabited 1
houses J

Ditto nnihhabited . . 12,256
Ditto being built 4667

Population . 2,111.629

Police ferae 6412

162

LONDON^ LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

applied to fatten the land instead of to poison the
water, won!d, at such a rate of increase, swell
our produce to the extent of 4,000,000 bushels
of wheat per annum. Calcalating then that each
of these bushels would yield 16 qoartem loaves,
It would follow that we fling into the Thames no
less than 246,000,000 lbs. of bread every year;
or, still worse, by pouring into the river that
which, if spread tipon our fields, would enable
thousands to live, we convert the elements of
life and health into the germs of disease and
death, changing into slow but certain poisons that
which, in the subtle transmutation of organic
nature, would become acres of life-stutaining
grain." I shall have more to say subsequently
on this waste and its consequences.

These considerations show how vastly import-

ant it is that in the best of all possible ways
we should e&lleet, remove, and imtf the scavengery
and excrementitious matter of our itreettf and
houses. '

Now the removal of the refuse of London ii
no slight task, conilsting,'iii( it dofls, of Cher cteani-
ing oif 1750 idlletf of street and roidi'; oif bot-
lecting the ittat from 800,(KK) duiit-b«ni'; of
emptying (according" to the returns of the Board
of Health) the nine number of ceBs|K>o]s; tod
sweeping neaf up(m 3,000,000 chimney*.

A task iO vast it might naturallv be imagined
would give employment to a number of baftdt,
and yet, if we trusted 'ithe retuhib of the Ocdlpi-
tiod Abstract of 1841, the whole of- these stu]^-
dous operations are performed by a limited nbmbn
of individuals.

RUTURN OP THE NUMBER OF SWEEPS, DUSTMEN, AND NiaHTMBN IN THE
MBTROFOLIS, ACOORDINa TO THE CENSUS OP 1841.

TotaL

Males.

Females.

80 years and
upwards.

Under 80.

90 yean and
upwards.

Under SOL

Chimney Sweepen

Scavengers and Nightmen . . .

1083
254

619
227

370
10

44
17

I am informed by persons in the trade that the
"females'* here mentioned as chimney-sweepers,
and scavengers, and nightmen, roust be such widows
or daughters of sweeps and nightmen as have suc-
ceeded to their businesses, for that no women vvrL-
at such trades ; excepting, perhaps, in the manage*
mem and care of the soot, in aitoiitting to empty and
fill the bags. Many ft^ranles, however, are em-
ployed in sifting dust, but the calling of tlic dust-
man and duritwomau is not so much us noticed in
the population returns.

According to tlie occupation abstract of the
previous decennial period, the numher of males
of 20 years and upwards (fur none others were
mentioned) pursuing the same callings in the
metropolis in ItiSl, were as follows : —

Soot and chimney-sweepers . . .421
Nightmen and 8Ga\'engcrs . . .130

Hence the increase in the adult male operatives
belonging to these trades, between 1831 and li^41,
was, for Chimney-sweeps, 1D8 ; and Scavengers
and Nightmen, 97.

But these returns are preposterously incorrect.
In the first place it was not until 1842 that the
parliamentary enactment prohibiting the further
employment of climbing-boys for the purpose of
sweeping chimneys came into operation. At that
time the number of inhabited houses in tlie
metropolis was in round numbers 250,000,
and calculating these to have contained only
eight rooms each, there would have been at the
leuHt 2,000,000 chimneys to swc<?p. Now, accord-
ing to the government returns above cited — the
London climbing-boys (for the masters did nut and
could not climh) in 1841 numbered only 370; at
which rate there would have been but one boy to

no leu than 5400 chimneys ! Funning the tame
mode of testing the validity of the " official" itaie-
ments, we find, as the nightmen generally work
in gangs of four, that each of the 83, or say Vl",
gangs comprised in the census returns, would have
had 4000 cesspools to empty of their contents;
while, working both as scavengers and nightmen
(for, according to the census, they were this only
individuals following those occupations in London),
they would after their nocturnal labours have
had about 27 miles of streets and road's to
cleanse — a feat which would certainly have
thrown the scavengering prowess of Hercules
into the shade.

Under the respective heads of the dustmen,
nightmen, sweeps, and scavengers, I sh'air give nn
account of the numbers, &c, employed, and a re-
sume of the whole. It will be sufficient here to
mention that my investigations lead to the con-
clusion that, of men working as dustmen (a portion
of whom are employed as nightmen and Scaven-
gers) there nre at present about 1800 in the
metropolis. The census of 1841, as I have
pointed out, mentions no dustman whatever !

But I have so often had instances of the defects
of this national numbering of the people that I have
long since ceased to place much &ith in its returns
connected with the humbler grades of labour.
The costermongers, for example, I estimate dt
about 10,000, whereas the government report^ as
has been before mentioned, ignore the very exist-
ence of such a class of people, and make the
entire hawkers, hucksters, and pedlars of the
metropolis to amount to no more than 2045.
Agiiin, the London " coal labourers, heavers, and
porters" are said, in the census of 1841, to be

LONDON LABOUR AND TBE LONDON PQOA.

16S

oaly 17W in nvmber ; I find, however, Aat there
are no leas than 1800 " regUtered " coal-whippert,
and as many coal porten ; lo that I am in no way
inclined to gire jreat credence to the " official
ennmerations* The diflScoltiea which heeet the
perfection of roch a document are almoit in-
•uperable, and I hare already heard of ^ retmrnt
for the forthcoming document, made by ignorant
people as to their occupations, which alroidy go
£ir to nullify the &ct8 in connection with the
employment of the ignofint and profligate classes
of the metropolis.

Before quitting this part of the subject, viz.,
the extent of tmhce, the length of streets, and
the number of houses throughout the metropolis
requiring to be continually cleansed of their refuse,
OS well as the number of people as continually en-
gaged in so cleansing them, let me here append
the last returns of the Registrar General, copied
from the census of 1851, as to the dimensions
and contents of the metropolis according to that
functionary, so that they may be compared with
those of the metropolitan police before given.

In Weale's ** London Exhibited" which is by
for the most comprehensive description of the
metropolis that I have seen, it is stated that it is
"only possible to adopt a general idea of the
giant city," as its precise boundaries and extent
cannot be defined. On the north of the Thames,
we are told, London extends to Edmonton and
Finchley ; on the west it stretches to Acton and
Hammersmith ; on the east it reaches Leyton and
Ham ; while on the south of the Thames the
metropolis is said to embrace Wandsworth,
Streatham, Lewisham, Woolwich, and Plumstead.
*' To each of these points," says Mr. Weale, but
upon what authority he does not inform us, " con-
tiuuoos streets of houses reach ; but the solid
mass of houses lies within narrow bounds — with
these sereral long arms extending from it. The
greatest length of street, from east to west," he
adds, "is about fourteen miles, and from north to
south about thirteen miles. The solid mass is
about seven miles by four miles, so that the
ground covered with houses is not less than 20
square mOes."

Hr.McCuUoch,inhis "Zone^on t»1850-51,"has
a passage to the same efiect He says, ** The con-
tinued and rapid increase of buildings renders it
difficult to ascertain the extent of the metropolis
at any particular period. If we include in it those
parts only that present a solid mass of houses, iu
length from east to west may be taken at six
miles, and its breadth from north to south at
about three miles and a half There is, however,
a nearly continuous line of houses from Black wall
to Cheihca, a distance of about seven miles, and
from Walworth to Holloway, of four and a half
miles. The extent of sur&ce covered by buildings
is estimated at about sixteen square miles, or
above 10,000 acres, so that M. Say, the cele-
brated French economist, did not really indulge in
hyperbole when he said, ' Londra rCesl plus une
rUU: ^4it «NS province couverU de maisons/*
(London is no longer a town : iC is a province
covered with houses)."

The QovwumeHt antiraritleB, however, qipcar
to have very diferent >otions tnm either of the
above gentlemen as t» the extant of the netny-

polis.

The limits of London, as at prswnt laid down
by the Registrar General, include 176 paiishei^
besides several precin<^ libertiet, and extra-paro-
chial places, comprising altogether about 116
square miles. According to the old bills of mor-
tality, London formeriy included only US pa-
rishes, which were located as follows : —

Parishes within the walls of the city . . 97

Parishes without the walls 17

Parishes in the city and liberties of West-
minster 10

Out parishes in Middlesex and Surrey • 2i

148
The parishes which have been annexed to the
above at different periods since the commencement
of the present century are : —

Parishes added by the late Mr. Rickman
(see Pop. Abstracts, 1801-31) (including
Chelsea, Kensington, Paddington, St.
Marylebone, and St. Pancras) .... 5

Parishes added by the Registrar General,
1838 (including Hammersmith, Fulham,
Stoke Newington, Stratford-le-Bow, Brom-
ley, Camberwell, Deptford, Greenwich, and
Woolwich) 10

Parishes added by the Registrar General
in 1844 (including Clapham, Battersea,
Wandsworth, Putney, Lower Tooting, and
Streatham) 6

Parishes added by the Registrar General in
1846 (comprising Hampstead, Charlton,
Plumstead, Eltham, Lee, Kidbroke, and
Lewisham) 7

Total number of parishes in the metropolis,
as defined by the Registrar General . . 176

The extent of London, according to the limits
assigned to it at the several periods above men*
tioned, was —

Stat.ActeB. Sq. miles.
London within the old bills

of mortality, from 1720 . 21,080 32
London, within the limits

adopted by the late Mr.

Rickman, 1801-31 . . 29,850 46
London, within the limits

adopted by the Registrar

General, 1838-43 . . 44,850 70
London, within the limits

adopted by the Registrar

General, 1844-46 . . 55,650 87
London, within the limits

adopted by the Registrar

General in 1847-51 . . 74,070 115

"London," observes Mr. Weale, "has now
swallowed up many cities, towns, villages, and
separate jurisdictions. The four commonw«dths, or
kingdoms, of the Middle Saxons, East Saxons, the
South Rick, and the Kentwaras, once ruled over

No. XXXVI.

161

LONWHr LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

itf lorfiMe. It now embraces the'epiieopal cities
of London and Westminster, the tojrns of Wool-
wich, Deptford, and Wandsworth, the watering
places of Hampstead, Highgate, Islington, Acton,
and Kilbum, the fishing town of Barking, the
once secluded and ancient villages of Ham, Jiom-
sej, Sydenham, Lee, Kensington, Fulham, Lam-
beth, Clapham, Faddington, llackney, Chelsen,

Stoke Ncwington, Newington Batt% Ptailiad,
and many others.

The 176 parishes now included by the Registrar
G«Beral within tbt boundaries of the metropolis, are
arranged by him into five districts, of which the
areas, popiUation, and number of inhabited houses
were on the 81st of Jfmlb 1851, as undecmen-
tioned :—

TABLE SHOWING THE AREA, NUMBER OF INHABITED HOUSES, AND POPU-
LATION OP THE DIFFERENT PARTS OF THE METROPOLIS, 1841-61.

Statute
Acra.

PopuUiion.

Inhabited Iloiues.

Divrsioxi or Uktropolis* '

1041.

18:11.

1841.

1851.

West Districts.

Kensington ....

7,860

74.898

119,990

10,902

17,292

Chelsea

780

40,243

56,543

5,648

7,629

St. George's, Hanover^quaro

1,090

66,657

78,207

7,630

8,795

Westminster ....

840

56,802

65,609

6,439

6,647

St MartinVin-tho-Fields .

260

25,182

24,557

2,439

2,323

St. James's, Westminster

165

87,457

36,426

3,590

3,460

North Distmcis.

Marylebone ....

1,490

138,383

157,679

14,169

15,955

Hampstead (added 1846) .

2,070

10,109

11,986

1,411

1,719

Pancras

2,600

129,969

107,198

14,766

18,731

Islington

8,050

55,779

95,154

8,508

13,558

Hackney

8,950

42,328

58,424

7,192

9,861

Central Districts.

St. Giles's

250

54,378

54,062

4,959

4,778

Strand

163

43,667

44,416

4,327

8,d88

Holbom^

188

44,532

46,571

4.603

4.517

Clerkenwell ....

820

56,799

C4,705

6,94G

7,259

St. Luke's

240

49,908

54,058

6,3S5

6,421

East London ....

1 t230

89,718

44,407

4,T96

4,785

West London ....

29,183

2S,S2S

3,010

2,745

London, City of . . ,

:t370

56,009

(^5,S08

7,921

7,329

East Districts.

Shoreditch

620

83,564

109,209

12,642

15,433

Bethnal Green ....

760

74,206

90,170

11,782

13,370

Whitechapel ....

816

71,879

79,756

8,834

8.832

St George's in the East

280

41,416

48,375

5,985

6,151

Htepney » 4 i •

Poplar . . ■ .•"*-.- :

2,518

90,831

110,669

14,364

16,346

1,250

81,171

47,157

5,066

6,882

South Districts.

- ..

■

St Saviour's, Southwark

•

83,027

85,729

4,659

4.61S

St Olave's, Southwark .

•

19,869

19,867

2,523

2,365

Bermondsey ....

620

85,002

48,128

5,674

7,095

St George's, Southwark

•590

46,718

51,825

6,663

7,005

Newington

680

54,693

64,805

9,370

10,468

Lambeth

8,640

116,072

139,240

17,791

20,520

Wandsworth (added 1848) .

10,800

89,918

50,770

6,459

8,290

Camberwell . . • •

4,570

89,931

54,668

6,843

9,417

Rotherhithe • . • .

690

13,940

17,778

2,420

2,834

Greenwich

4,570

81,125

99,404

11,995

14,42a

Lewisham (added 1846)

16,350

23,051

34,881

3,966

5,936

Total London Division

74,070

1,948,869

2,861,640 1

262,737

307,722

• The area of the dirtricU of St Saviour and St Olave b Included In that returned fwSt. Geor«s, Southwark.
T ThearS lure suted It that of the city without the walla, and indudca White Frian prednct and Holy

VTh7.'i^a uTtlit'S^thJd"^^^^ White Frto. which belong, to the dlatrict^

LONlXar LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

165

In tider to be able to compare the aTonge
density of the population in the Torious parts of
London, I hare made a calculatm as to the nump
ber of persons and houses to the wne, as weQ as the
number of inhabitants to each house. I Imre
also computed the annual rate of increase of the
population from 1841-51, in the seTenl laealities
here mentioned, and append the result It will

be seen that, while what are powlarly known as
the suburbs hare inenased, both in houses and
popnktion, at a considenble rate, some of the more
central parts of London, on the contrary, have de-
creased not only in the number of people, but in
the number of dwellings as well. This has been the
case in St. Martin's-in-the-Fields, St. James's,
Westminster, St. Giles's, and the City of London.

TABLE SHOWING THE INCEBASE OF THE POPULATION AND INHABITED
HOUSES, AS WELL AS THE NUMBER OF PEOPLE AND HOUSES TO EACH
ACRE, AND THE NUMBER OP PERSONS TO EACH HOUSE IN THE DIF-
FERENT PARTS OP THE METROPOLIS IN 1841-51.

Yearly In-

Yearly In-

Number of

Number of

crease of Po-

crease of In-

Number of

Inhabited

Persona to

pulation per

habited

People to the

Houses to the

each

annum, from

Housot, from

Acre, 1051.

Acre, 1U51.

House,

1841-51.

11)41-51.

ia51.

West Distbiots.

Eenungton ....

4,509-2

6330

15-2

2-2

6-91

Chelsea

,

1,630-0

198-1

72-4

9-7

7-4

St (George's, Hanover-square

C55 0

11-6

67-1

8-0

8-8

Westminster

880-7

20-8

80-4

8-2

9-8

St Martin's-in-the-Fields

dicr, 57-5»

dtcr. 11-6*

94-3

8-9

10-5

St James's, Westminster

1031*

13-0*

220-7

20-9

10-5

NoETH Districts.

Marylebone

1,920-6

178-6

105-8

10-3

9-8

Hanipttead .

187-7

30-8

5-7

-8

6-9

St Pancrai .

8,722-9

396-5

64-8

7-2

8-9

Islington .

3,937-5

505-0

81-5

4'i

7.D

Hackney .

1,609-6

719-2

14-7

2-3

^'9

CXHT&AL DiSTRIOTS.

,

St Gflet'a .

deer, Zl'6*

<f«r»-. 18-1»

216-2

19-1

n-3

Strand

77-9

d€er. 38-9 •

272-2

24-1

11-2

Bolbom

203-9

deer. 86 »

247-7

24-0

10-3

ClerkenweU

790-6

31-3

202-2

22-6

8-9

St. Luke's .

4150

3-6

225-2

26-7

8-4

East and West London

4880

deer. 27-6»

318-4

32-7

9-7

London City

deer. lOl*

deer, 592*'

151-0

19-8

7-8

East Districts.

Shoreditch .

2,564-5

2791

176-1

24-8

7-0

Bethnal-green

1,596-4

158-8

118-«

17-5

6-7

Whitechapel

787-7

deer, '2"

252-3

27-9

9-0

St Oeorge's-in-the-East

695.9

16-6

210-3

26-7

7-8

Stepney

1,983-8

198-2

43-9

6-4

6-7

Poplar ....

1,598-6

181-6

37-7

5-5

6-8

South Districts.

St Sayionr's, St Olave's, and St

Geofge'i, Southwark

730-7

13-8

181-2

23-7

7-6

1,312-6

1421

77-6

11-2

6-7

Newington

1,011-2

109-8

102-8

16-6

61

Lambeth .

2,316-8

272-9

88-2

5-6

6-7

Wandsworth

1,085-2

1831

4-7

•7

6-1

1,473-7

257-4

12-4

2-0

5-3

Botherhithe

388-8

41-4

25-7

41

6-2

Greenwich

1,827-9

242-8

21-7

81

6-8

Lewisham .

1,178-0

197-0

21

•3

5'Q

Total for all London

41,827-1

4,498-5

81-8

4-1

7-6

* The population and number of inhabited houses in these districts has decreawd annually to this extent

196

LOyDOIf LABOUR AXD THE lOSTDOM ^OOR.

By the hImto tabk wa peiceire that St. liar-
tin'B-in-the-Fu*ld«, Sc Jamef's, Westminiter, St.
GKlet'«,tbe Sunnd^and tiwCity have all dacreaMd
both- in p<»pttluti<m and houict tinoe 1841. The
population ha« dioiiniahed nuMt of all in Sc
Jamoa'a, and the houee* the meet in the City. The
tuborban districta, however, wch as CheUea,
Harylebone, St. Faiicr.ii^ Islington, Hackney,
Shoreditch, Bethnal-greeu, Stepney, Poplar, Ber>
mondsey, Neiringtun, lAmbeth, Wandsirorth,
Garaberirell, Greenwich, and Lewisham, hare all
increased greatly within the last ten years, both
in dwellings and people. The greatest increase of
the population, as well as houses^ has been iii
Kensington, where the yearly addition has been
4500 people, and 630 houses.

The more densely-populated districts are. St.
James's, Westminster, St. Giles's, the Sinind,
Holbom, Clcrkenwell, St. Lake, Whitechapel, and
St. GeorgoVin-the-Bast, in nil of which places there
are upwards of 200 people to the acre, while in
East and West London, in which the population is
the most dense of ail, the number of people ex-
ceeds 800 to the acre. The le;ist densely popu-
lated districts are Hampstead, Wandsworth, and
Lewisham, where the people arc not more than
six, and as few as two tu the acre.

The districts in which there are the greatest
number of houses to a given space, are St. James's,
Westminster, the Strand, Holbom, Clerkenwcll,
St Luke's, Shoreditch, and St, Gforge's-in-the-East,
in all of which localities there arc upwards of 20
dwellings to each acre of ground, while in East 1
and Weit London, which is the most closely built ,
ovrr of all, the number of houses to each acre ,
are as many as 32. Hampstcad and Lawisham :
appear to be the most open districts ; for there the
houses are not more thuu eight and three to every
ten acres of ground.

The localities in which the houfcs are the '
most crowded with inmates arc the Strand and .
St. Giies's, where therearemore than eleven people
to each hau!«e, and St. JMartiirs-in-ihe-Fields, and i
St. James's, Wcstmin»ter,and iIoIlj'»rn, whereeach
house has on an average ten inmates, while in ,
Lewisham and Wandsworth the iiouses arc the i
hast crowded, for there we find only five people |
to every house. ;

Now, comparing this return with that of the
metropolitan police, we have tlie following results |
as to the extent and contents of the Metro|'olis
Proper :—

Acconlinj Accord iog

to lo .Metro- I

Rc'gi.>trar nirfitan

General. 1*o1jcj. '

74,070 6S,b80 j

176 179 !

Area (in statute acres) .
Parishes

^T^L '[ i""^^^^} 307,722 805,525
Popuhition ! . . . . 2,301,010 2,111,629

Ileuce it will be seen that both the extent and
contents of these two returns differ most mate-
rially.

1st The superficies of the Registrar General's
metropolis is very nearly 18 square miles, or

15,190 itatata aem, greater than tLa metro-
polis of the police conmiasiooers.

2nd. The nimbar of inhabited houses is 2197
mora in the oaa than in the other.

Scd. The population of London, according to
the Kegistiar Gcnenl'a limits, is 250,011, or a
quarter of a millioi^ man than it is aocordiag to
the limits of the m^tiopoUtau police.

It were much to be desired that some more
definite and scientific mode, not only of limiting,
but of dividing the lattenpolis, were to be adopted.
At present there are, perhaps^ as many different
metropolises, so to speak, and as many different
modes of apportioning the several parts of the
whole into districts, as there are public bodies
whose operations are specially confined lo the
capital. The llegistrar General has, as we have
seen, one metropolis divided into western, nor-
thern, central, eastern, and southern districts. The
metropolitan police commissioners have another
metropolis apportioned into iu A divisions, B
divisions, and so forth ; and the Post Office has
a third metropolis parcelled oat in a totally
difiereiit manner ; while the London City Mission,
the Scripture Readers, the Ragged Schools, and the
many other similar metropolitan institutions, all
seem to delight in creating a distinct metropolis
for themselves, thus tending to make the statis-
tical ''confusion worse confounded."

Of the Dustmen of I^kdoh.
Dust and rubbish accumulate in houses from a
variety of causes, but principally from the residuum
of fires, the white ash and cinders, or small frag-
ments of unconsumed coke, giving rise to by far
the greater quantity. Some notion of the vast
amount of thii refuse annually produced in Lon-
djn may be formed from the fact that the con-
sumption of cool in the metropolis is, according to
the official returns, 3,500,1500 tons per annum,
which is at the rate of a little more than 11
tons per hou<c ; the poorer fiuniiies, it is tnie, do
not bum more than 2 tons in the course of the
year, but then nuny such families reside in tltc
s.'imc house, and hence the average will appear iu
no way excessive. Now the ashes and cinders
arising from this enormous consumption of coal
would, it is evident, if allowed to lie 8catti>red
about iu such a place as London, render, ere long,
not only the back fctrects, but even the imp^)r-
tant thoroughfares, filihy and impassable. Upon
the Officers of the various pnriishes, therefore, has
devolved the duty of seeing that the refuse of the
fuel consumed throughout London is removed
almost as fast as produced ; this they do by entering
into an agreement for the clejironce of the " dust-
bins" of the parishioners as often as required,
with some person who possesses all necessary
appliances for the purpose — such as horses, carts,
baskets, and shovels, together with a plot of
waste ground whereon to deposit the refuse. The
persons with whom this agreement is made are
called " dust-contractors," and are generally men
of considerable wealth.

The collection of ** dust," is now, more properly
speaking, the removal of it The collection of an

LONDOir LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

1«7

article implies tlie Tolontary seeking tftw it, and
this the dustmen can hardly be said to do ; for though
they parade the strecU shontins for the dust as
tbej go, they do so rather to folfil a certain duty
they have undertaken to perform than in any
expectation of profit to be derived from llit «de
of the article.

Formerly the custom was otherwise ; but then,
as will be seen hereafter, the residuum of the Lon-
don fiiel was fsa more talnable. Not many years
ago it was the practice for the various master dust-
men to send in their tenders to the restry, on a cer-
tain day appointed for the purpose, offering to pay a
considerable sum yearly to the parish authorities
for liberty to collect the dust from the several ^
bouses. The sum formerly paid to the parish
of Shadwell, for instance, though not a rery
extensive one, amounted to between 400^ or
6001. per annum ; but then there was an immense
demand for the article, and the contractors were
unable to furnish a sufficient supply from London ;
ships were frequently freighted with it from other
parts, especially from Newcastle and the northern
ports, and at that time it formed an article of
considerable international commerce — the price
being from 15*. to 1/. per cliaMron. Of late years,
howerer, the demand has fallen off greatly, while
the supply has been progressively increasing, owing
to the extension of the metropolis, so that the i
Contractors have not only declined paying any- I
thing for liberty to collect it, but now stipulate
to receive a certain sum for the removal of it. It
need hardly be staU'd that the parishes always
employ the man who requires the least money for
the performance of what has now become a
matter of duty rather than an object of desire.
Some idea may be formed of the change which
has taken place in this business, from the iact,
that the aforesaid parish of Shadwell, which for-
merly received the sum of 450/. per annum for
liberty to collect the dust, now pays the Contractor
the sum of 240/. per annum for its removal.

The Court of Sewers of the City of London, in
1846, through the advice of Mr. Cochrane, the
president of the National Philanthropic Associa-
tion, were able to obtain from the contractors
the sum of 5000/. for liberty to clear away the
dirt from the streets and \he dust from the
bins and houses in that district. The year follow-
ing, however, the contractors entered into a com-
bination, and came to a resolution not to bid so
high for the privilege ; the result was, that they
obtained their contracts at an expense of 2200/.
By acting on the same principle in the year
after, they not only offered no premium what-
ever for the contract, but the City Commis-
sionen of Sewers were obliged to pay them the
sum of 800/. for removing the refuse, and at pre-
sent the amount paid by the City is as much as
4900/. I This is divided among four great con-
tracton, and would, if equally apportioned, give
the!n 1250/. each.

I Bub)oin a list of the names of the principal
contractfon and the parishes for which they are
engaged: —

DISTRICTS CONTBACTCD HAIfZS OP

FOE. COmiACTORS.

/Itedding.
Four diviBlo. Of the City. -<J*§fc^t,

iJ.OouM.

FiMbury-«quare J.Gould.

Sr. Luke'*.. H. Dodd.

Shoreditch Ditto

Norton FolfBte. J.Gould.

Bethnal-green E. Newman.

Ilolbom Pratt and Sewell.

HflttofH^iarden Ditto.

Islington Stroud, Brickmaker.

St. Martin's. Wm. Sinnott, Junior.

St Mary-Ie-Strand J. Gore.

St. Sepulehre Ditto.

Savoy Ditt-v

St. Clement Danes Rook .

St. James's, CkMrkenwen . . H. Dodd.

St. John's, ditto J. Gould.

St. Marcaret'SiWcstminster W. Hoamc.

St. John's, ditto Stapleton and Holdsworth.

Lambeth. W.Heame.

Chelsea. C. Humphries.

St. Marylcbone J. Gore.

Black fnars-bridge Jenkins.

St. Paul's. Covent-gardcu.. W. Sinnott.

Piccatlilly 11. Tame.

Hcgent -street andPall-raaU W. Ridding.

St. Georgt.'^, iianover-sq. H. Tame.

Paddin^Tton C. Humphries.

Camden-town Milton.

St. Pancra.^. S.W. Division W. Stanleton.

Southampton estate C. Starkey. •

Skinner's ditto H. North.

Brewer's ditto C. Starkey.

Cromerditto Ditto.

Calthorpe ditto Ditto.

Bedfordditto Gore.

Doughty ditto Martin.

Union ditto J. Gore.

Foundling ditto Pratt and Sev.clL

Harrison «litto Martin.

St. Ann's, Soho J. Gore.

Wliitechapol Parsons.

Goswell -street Keddlng.

rommercial-road. Bast .... J. SinnotL

Mile-end Newman.

Borough . . Hcanie.

Bermondsey The parish.

Kensington II. Tame.

St. Gileii's-in-the-Fields and

St. George'*, Bloomsbury Redding.

Shadwell Westlcy.

St. Gcorge's-in-the-East . . Ditto.

Battle-bridge Starkey.

Berkeley-square Clutterbuck.

St. George's, Pimlico Redding.

Woods and ForesU Ditta

St. Botolph Wi'stley.

St. John's, Wappbig Ditto.

Somer«-town H. North.

Kentish-town J. Gore.

Rolls (Liberty of the) Pratt and Sewell.

Edward-square, Kensington C. Iliimphries.

All the metropolitan parishes now pay ihe
contractors various amounts for the removal of the
dust, and I am credibly informed that there is a
system of underletting and jobbing in the dust
contracts extensively carried on. The contractor
for a certain parish is often a different person firom
the master doing the work, who is unknown in
the contract. Occasionally the work would ap-
pear to be subdivided and underlet a second time.

The parish of St Fancras is split into no
less than 21 districts, each district having a
separate and independent "Board," who are
genemlly at war vrith each other, and make
separate contracts for their several divisions.
This is also the case in other huge parishes,
and these and other considerations confirm
me in the conclusion that of large and small

168

LO^^DON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

duit-contmctora, job-mastert, and middle-men, of
one kind or the other, throughout the metropolis,
there cannot be leu than the number I have
■tated — 90. With the exception of Bermondsey,
there are no pariihet who remore their oirn duat
It is difficult to arriTe at any absolute statement
as to the gross amount paid by the different
parishes for the remoral of the entire dust of the
metropolis. From Shadwell the contractor, as we
haTe seen, receives 250/. ; from the city the four
contractors receive as much as 5000^ ; but there
are many small parishes in London which do not
pay above a tithe of the last-mentioned sum. Let
us, therefore, assume, that one with another, the
several metropolitan parishes pay 200/. a year
each to the dust contractor. According to the
returns before given, there are 176 parishes in
London. Hence, the gross amount paid for the
removal of the entire dust of tlie metropolis will
be between 80,000/. and 40,000/. per annum.

The removal of the dust throughout the metro-
polis, is, therefore, carried on by a niunber of persons
called Contractors, who undertake, as has been
stated, ftr a certain sum, to cart away the refuse
from the houses as frequently as the inhabitants
desire it. To ascertain the precise numbers of
these contractors is a task of much greater diffi-
culty than might at fint be conceived.

The London Post Office Directory gives the
following number of tradesmen connected with
the removal of refuse from the houses and streets
of the metropolis.

Dustmen 9

Scavengers . . . .10
Nightmen . . . .14

Sweeps 32

But these numbers are obviously incomplete, for
even a cursory passenger through London must
have noticed a greater number of names upon the
various dust carts to be met with in the streets
than are here set down.

A dust-contractor, who has been in the business
upwards of 20 years, stated that, from his know-
kdge of the trade, he should suppose that at pre-
sent there might be about 80 or 90 contractors in
the metropolis. Now, according to the returns
before given, there are within the limits of the
Metropolitan Police District 176 parishes, and
comparing this with my informant's statement, that
many persons contract for more than one parish
(of which, indeed, he himself is an instance), there
remains but little reason to doubt the correctness
of his supposition — that there are, in all, between
80 or 90 dust-contractors, large and small,
connected with the metropolis. Assuming the
aggregate number to be 8S, there would be one
contractor to every two parishes.

These dust-contractors are likewise the con-
tractors for the cleansing of the streets, except
where that duty is performed by the Street-Order-
lies ; they are also the persons who undertake
the emptying of the cesspools in their neighbour-
hood ; the Utter operation, however, is effected by
an arrangement between themselves and the land-
lords of the premises, and forms no part of their
parochial contracts. At the office of the Street

Orderlies in Leicester Square, they hare know-
ledge of only SO contractors connected with the
metropolis; but this is evidently defective, and refers
to the " hirge masters ** alone ; leaving out of all con-
sideration, as it does, the host of small contractors
scattered up and down the metropolis, who are able
to employ only two or three carts and six or seven
men each ; many of such small contractors being
merely master sweeps who have managed to " get
on a little in the world," and who are now able to
contract, "in a small way," for the removal of
dust, street-sweepings, and night-soil. Moreover,
many of even the "great contractors" being un-
willing to Tenture upon an outlay of capital for
carts, horses, &c, when their contract is only for
a year, and may pass at the end of that time
into the hands of any one who may nnderbid
them — many such, I repeat, are in the habit of
underletting a portion of their contract to others
possessing the necessary appliances, or of entering
into partnership with them. The latter is the case
in the parish of Shadwell, where a person having
carts and horses shares the profits with the original
contractor. The agreement made on such occa-
sions is, of course, a secret, though the practice
is by no means uncommon; indeed, there is
so much secrecy maintained concerning all matters
connected with this business, that the inquiry is
beset with every possible difficultr. The gentle-
man who communicated to me the amount paid
by the parish of Shadwell, and who informed me,
moreover, that parishes in his neighbourhood paid
twice and three times more than Shadwell did,
hinted to me the difficulties I should experience at
the conunencement of my inquiry, and I hare
certainly found his opinion correct to the letter.
I have ascertained that in one yard intimidation
wns resorted to, and the men were threatened
with instant dismissal if they gave me any infor-
mation but such as was calculated to mislead.

I soon discovered, indeed, that it was impossible
to place any reliance on what some of the contrac-
tors said ; and here I may repeat that the indisputa-
ble result of my inquiries has been to meet with far
more deception and equivocation from employers
generally than from the employed ; working men
have little or no motive for mis-stating their wages;
they know well that the ordinary rates of remu-
neration for their labour are easily ascertainable
from other members of the trade, and seldom or
never object to produce accounts of their earnings,
whenever they have been in the habit of keeping
such things. With employers, however, the case
is far different; to seek to ascertain from them
the profits of their trade is to meet with evasion
and prevarication at every turn; they seem to
feel that their gains are dishonestly large, and
hence resort to every means to prevent them being
made public That I have met with many ho-
nourable exceptions to this rule, I most cheerfully
acknowledge ; but that the majority of tradesmen
are neither so frank, communicative, nor truthful,
as the men in their employ, the whole of my in-
Testigations go to prove. I have already, in the
Mominy Chronicle, recorded the character of my
interviews with an eminent Jew slop-tailor, an

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

160

•nny dotbier, and an enterpriting firee-tiado ttay-
maker (a gentleman who aabscribed his 100
guineas to the League), and I mast in candoor
confess that now, luter two years' experience, I
hare found the industrious poor a thousand-fold
more veracious than the trading rich.

With respect to the amount of business done by
these contractors, or gross quantity of dust collected
by them in the course of the year, it would appear
that each employs, on an arerage, about 20 men,
which makes the number of men employed as dust-
men through the streets of London amount to 1800.
This, as has been previously stated, is grossly at
variance with the number given in the Census of
1841, which computes the dustmen in the metro-
polis at only 254. But, as I said before, I have
long ceased to pkce confidence in the government
returns on such subjects. According to the above
estimate of 254, and deducting from this number
the %^ master-dustmen, there would be only 166
labouring men to empty the 300,000 dust bins of
London, and as these men always work in couples,
it follows that every two dustmen would have to
remove the refuse from about 8600 houses; so
that assuming each bin to require emptying
once every six weeks they would have to cart
away the dust from 2400 houses every month,
or 600 every week, which is at the rate of 100
a day 1 and as each dust-bin contains about half a
load, it would follow that at this rate each cart
would have to collect 50 loads of dust daily,
whereas 5 loads is the average day's work.

Computing the London dustrcontractors at 90,
and the inhabited houses at 300,000, it follows
that each contractor would have 3383 houses to
remove the refuse from. Now it has been calcu-
lated that the ashes and cinders alone from each
house average about three loads per annum, so
that each contractor would have, in round num-
bers, 10,000 loads of dust to remove in the course
of the year. I find, from inquiries, that every
two dustmen carry to the yard about five loads a
day, or about 1500 loads in the course of the year,
so that at Uiis rate, there must be between six
and seven carU, and twelve and fourteen col-
lectors employed by each master. But this is
exclusive of the men employed in the yards.
In one yard that I visited there were fourteen
people busily employed. Six of these were
women, who were occupied in sifting, and they
were attended by three men who shovelled the
dust into their sieves, and the foreman, who was
bard at work loosening and dragging down the
dust from the heap, ready for the "fillers-in."
Besides these there were two carts and four men
engaged in conveying the sifted dust to the barges
alongside the wharf. At a larger dust-yard, that
formerly stood on the banks of the Regent's-canal,
I am informed that there were sometimes as
many as 127 people at work. It is but a small
yard, which has not 80 to 40 labourers connected
with it; and the lesser dust-yards have gene-
rally from four to eight siflers, and six or seven
carta. There are, therefore, employed in a me-
dium-sized yard twelve collectors or cartmen,
iix sifters, and three fiUers-in^ besides the foreman

or forewoman, making altogether 22 persons ; so
that, computing the contractors at 90, and alldw-
ing 20 men to be employed by eac%, there would
be 1800 men thus occupied in the metropolis,
which appears to be very near the truth.

One who has been all his life connected with
the business estimated that there must be about
ten dustmen to each metropolitan parish, large and
small. In Marylebone he believed there were
eighteen dustcarts, with two men to each, out
every day ; in some small parishes, however, two
men are sufficient. There would be more men
employed, he said, but some masters contracted
for two or three parishes, and so " kept the same
men going," working them hard, and enlarging
their regular rounds. Calculating, then, that ten
men are employed to each of the 176 metropoli-
tan parishes, we have 1760 dustmen in Lo^^don.
The suburban parishes, my informant told mOy
were as well "dustmaned" as any he knew;
for the residents in such parts were more particular
about their dust than in busier places.

It is curious to observe how closely the num-
ber of men engaged in the collection of the ** dust "
from the coals burnt in London agrees, according
to the above estimate, with the number of men
engaged in delivering the coals to be burnt. The
coal-whippers, who "discharge the colliers," are
about 1800, and the coal-porters, if ho carry the
coals bom the barges to the merchants' wagons,
are about the same in number. The amount of
residuum from coal after burning cannot, of course,
be equal either in bulk or weight to tlie original
substance ; but considering that the collection of
the dust is a much slower operation than the de-
livery of the coals, the difference is easily ac-
counted for.

We may arrive, approximately, at the quantity
of dust annually produced in London, in the fol-
lowing manner : —

The -consumption of coal in London, per annum,
is about 8,500,000 tons, exclusive of what is
brought to the metropolis per rail. Coals "^are
made up of the following component parts, viz.
(1) the inorganic and fixed elements; that is
to say, the ashes, or the bones, as it were, of the
fossil trees, which cannot be burnt ; (2) coke, or
the residuary carbon, after being deprived of the
vohitile matter; (3) the volatile matter itself
given off during combustion in the form of flame
and smoke.

The relative proportions of these materials in
the various kinds of coals are as follows . —

Carbon,
percent.
Cannel or

coals.
Newcastle or \
"house" coals. J
Lancashire and \ ,(^ . ^^^
Torluhirc coal.. I ''**•«*'

In the metropolis the Newcastle coal is chiefly

VoUtile,
percent.

8" I 40 to 60 60 to 40

57

87
85 to 40

percent.
10

170

IMfDOir LABOUA ASJO TEE LQIOHUi POOK.

luady and thii^ w« pezeeira, yieldi fire per eent
MhM and aboat 67 per cent, carbon. But a con-
iiderable pari of the carbon ia convarted into
carbonic acid daring comboation; i( therefore,
we aasume that two-thirda of Uie carbon are
thoi conaumed, and that the remaining third re-
maina behind in the £arm of cinderi we shall
hare about 25 per cent, of "dust" from every
ton of coaL On inquiry of those who have
bad long ezperiance in this matter, I find that
• ton of coal may be £urly said on an average
to yield about one-fourth its weight in dust;
hme the gross amount of "dust" annually pro-
duced in London would be 900,000 tons, or about
three tons per house per annum.

It is impossible to obtain any definite statistics
on this part of the subject Not one in every
tan ^ of the contractors keeps any account of
the amount that comes into the "yard." An
Intelligent and communicative gentleman whom I
coQsulted on this natter, could give me no in-
formation on thia subject that was in any way
MUisfiictory. I have, however, endeavoured to
dieck the preceding estimate in the following
manner. There are in London upwards of SOO,OUO
inhabited houses, and each house furnishes a
oertain quota of dust to the general atock. I have
ascertained that an averagCHuaed house will pro-
duce, in the course of a year, about three cart-loada
of dusty while each cart holds about 40 bushels
(baskets) — what the dustmen call a chaldron.
There are, of course, many houses in the metro-
polis which furnish three and four times this
amooH of dust, but against these may be placed
the vast preponderance of small and poor houses
in London and the suburbs, where there is not
one quarter of the quantity produced, owing to
the small amount of fuel consumed. Estimating,
then, the average annual quantity of diut firom
each house at three loads, or chaldrons, and the
houses at 300,000, it follows that the grou
quantity collected throughout the metropolis will
be ibout 900,000 chaldrons per annum.

The next part of the subject is — what becomes
of this vast quantity of dust — to what use it is
applied.

The dust thus collected is used for two pur-
poses, (1) as a manure for land of a peculiar
quality; and (2) for making bricks. The fine
portion of the house-dust called " soil,*' and sepa-
rated from the "brieze," or coarser portion, by
sifting* is found to be peculiarly fitted for what
is called breaking up a marshy heathy soil at its
first cultivation, owing not only to the dry nature
of the dust, but to its possessing in an eminent
degree a highly separating quality, almost, if not
quite, equal to sand. In former years the demand
for this finer dust was very great, and barges were
continually in the river waiting their turn to be
loaded with it for some distant part of the country.
At that time the contractors were unable to supply
the demand, and easily got 1^. per chaldron for as
much as they could furnish, and then, as I have
stated, many ships were in the habit of bringing
cargoes of it from the North, and of realizing a
good profit on the transaction. Of ktc years,

however — and partMokiiy, I am told,
repeal of the eomrlawi — this braneh of tne basi>
nets has dwindled to nothing; The contnctors ny
that the fisrmers do not eiUtivate their land now
aa they used ; it will not pay them, and instead,
therefore, of biinging firesb land into tillage, and
especially such aa requires this sort of manure,
they are laying down that which they previously
had in cultivation, and turning it into pasture
grounds. It is principally on thu aoeount, say the
contractors, that we cannot sell the dust we collect
so well or so readily as formerly. Then are, how^
ever, some cargoes of the dust itill taken, par-
ticularly to the lowlands in the neighbourhood
of Barking, and such other phoes in the vicinity
of the metropolis as are enabled to realise •
greater profit, by growing for the London markets.
NeverthiBleas, the contractors are obliged now to
dispose of the dust at 2t. M. per ehaldnm, and
sometimes less.

The finer dust is also uaed to mix with the
clay for making bricks, and baorge4oads are con-
tinually ahipped off for this purpose. The fine
ashes are added to the clay in the proportion of
one-fifth ashes to four-fifths day, or 60 chaldrons
to 240 cubic yards, which ia suffident to make
100,000 bricks (where much wuA is mixed with
the clay a smaller proportion of aahes may be
used). This quantity requires also the addition
of about 16 chaldrons, or, if mild, of about 12
chaldrons of " brieae," to aid the burning. The
ashes are made to mix with the clay by collecting
it into a sort of reservoir fitted np lor the pur-
pose ; water ia great quantitiet is let in upon
it, and it is then stirred till it resembles a fine
thin paste, in which state the dust eadly mingles
with every part of it. In this condition it is left
till the water dther soaks into the earth, or goes
off by evaporation, when the bricks are moulded
in the usual manner, the dust forming a compo-
nent part of them.

The ashes, or dndered matter, which are thus
dispersed throughout the substance of the cLiy,
be<»me, in the process of burning, gradually
ignited and coneamed. But the " brieze " (firom
the French hriter, to break or crush), that is to
say, the coarser portion of the coal aah, i» like-
wise used in the burning of the bricks. The
small apaces left among the lowest courses of the
bricks in the kiln, or "clamp," are filled with
" brieze," and a thick layer of the same material is
spread on the top of the kilns, when full. Fre-
quently the " briezii" is mixed with small coals, and
after having been burnt the ashes are collected,
and then mixed with the clay to form new bricks.
The highoit price at present given for " briezo "
is Z». per ton.

The price of the dust used by the brickmakers
has likewise been reduced; this the contractors
account for by saying that there are fewer brick-
fields ^han formerly near London, as they have
been nearly all built over. They assert, that
while the amount of dust and cinders has increased
proportionately to the increase of the houses, the
demand for the article has decreased in a like
ratio; and that, moreover, the greater portion

UOSTDOlf LABOUR AND TBE LONDON PQfiM,

171

of the briokf mm vMd in LondoB for tho haw
boOdingi come from other qnariert. Such dust,
howerer, aa tbe contractoiB Bell to the brick-
roaken, they in general undertake, for a certain
sum, to cart to the brick-fields, though it often
happens that the brick-makers' carts coming into
town with their loads of bricks to new buildings,
call on their return at the dust-yards, and carry
thenoe a load of dust or cinders back, and so
save the price of cartage.

But during the operation of sifting the dust,
many things are found which are useless for either
manure or brick-makings such as oyster shells,
old bricks, old boots and shoas^ old tin kettles,
old rags and bonesi && These are used for
variooa purposes.

The bricks, &c., are sold lor sinking beneath
foundations, where a thick layer of concrete is
spread over them. Many old bricks, too, are
used in making new roads, especially where the
land .is low and marshy. The old tin goes to
form the japanned fiistenings for the comers of
trunks, as well as to other persons, who re-
mannfiictiire it into a variety of articles. ■ The
old shoes are sold to the London shoemakers, who
use them as stuffing between the in-sole and
the outer one ; but by far the greater quantity is
sold to the manufiicturers of Prussian blue, that
substance being formed out of refuse animal
matter. The rags and bones are of course dis-
posed of at the usual places — the marine-store
shops.

A dutt-heap, therefore, may be briefly said to
be composed of the following things, which are
severally applied to the following uses : —

1. "Soil," or fine dust, sold to brickmakers
for makmg bricks, and to iiEurmers for manure, es-
pecially for clover.

2. " firiese," or cinders, sold to brickmakers,
for burning bricks.

d. Rags, bones, and old metal, sold to marine-
store deslers.

4. Old tin and iron vessels, sold for "clamps "
to trunks, &c., and for making copperas.

5. Old bricks and oyster shells, sold to builders,
for sinking foundations, and forming roads.

6. Old boots and shoes, sold to Prussian-blue
manufacturers.

7. Money and jewellery, kept, or sold to Jews.
The dnst-yards, or places where the dust is

collected and sifted, are generally situiited in the
suburbs, and they may be found all round London,
sometimes occupying open spaces adjoining back
streets and lanes, and surrounded by the low
mean houses of the poor; frequently, however,
they cover a large extent of ground iu the fields,
and there the dust is piled up to a great height in
a conical heap, and having much the appeanmce
of a volcanic mountain. The reason why the
dust-heaps are confined principally to the suburbs
is, that more space is to be found in the fiut-
skirU than in a thickly-peopled and central lowility.
Moreover, the fear of indictments for nuisance has
had considerable influence in the matter, for it
was not unusual for the yards in former times, to
be located within the boundaries of the city.

They are now, howevej^ icatteied xouid London,
and always placed as near as possible to th*
river, or to some canal communicating there-
with. In St. George's, Shadwell, Batcliffe,
I Limehouse, PopUr, and Blackwall, on the north
side of the Thames, and in Redrifife, Bermondsey,
and Botherhithe, on the south, they are to be
found near the Thames. The object of this is,
that by fax the greater quantity of the soil or
ashes is conveyed in sailing-barges, holding from
70 to 100 tons each, to Feversham, Sitting-
bourne, and other places in Kent, which are the
great brick-making manufactories for London.
These barges come up invariably loaded with
bricks, and take home in return a caigo of soiL
Other dust-yards are situated contiguous to the
Begent's and the Surrey canal; and for the
same reason as above stated — for the convenience
of water carriage. Moreover, adjoining the Lime-
house cut, which is a branch of the Lea Biver,
other dust-yards may be finmd; and again
travelling to the opposite end of the metropolis,
we discover them not only at Paddington on the
banks of the canal, but at Maiden-lane in a
similar position. Some time since there was an
inunense dust-heap in the neighbourhood of
Gray's-iun-lane, which sold for 20,000^. ; but that
was in the days when 15«. and 1/. per chaldron
could easily be procured for the dust. According
to the present rate, not a tithe of tha^ amount
could have been realized upon it

A visit to any of the large metropolitan dust-
yards is far from uninteresting. Near the centra
of the yard rises the highest heap, composed of
what is called the " soil,'' or finer portion of the
dust used for manure. Around this heap are
numerous lesser heaps, consisting of the mixed
dust and rubbish carted in and shot down previous
to sifting. Among these heaps are many women
and old men with sieves made of iron, all busily
engaged in separating the "brieze" from the
" soil." There is likewise another large heap in some
other part of the yard, composed of the cinders
or *' britze " waiting to be shipped off to the
brickfields. The whole yard seems alive, some
sifting and others shovelling the sifted soil on to
the heap, while every now and then the dust- '
carts return to discharge their loads, and pro-
ceed again on their rounds for a fresh supply.
Cocks and hens keep up a continual scratching and
cackling among the heaps, and numerous pigs seem
to find great delight in rooting incessantly about
after the garbage and offid collected from the
houses and markets.

In a dust-yard hitely visited the sifters
formed a curious sight; they were almost
up to their middle iu dust, ranged in a semi-
circle in front of that part of the heap which
was being "worked;'' each had before her a
small mound of soil which had fallen through her
sieve and formed a sort of embankment, behind
which she stood. The appearance of the entire
group at their work was most peculiar. Their
coarse dirty cotton gowns were tucked up behind
them, their arms were bared above their elbows,
their bbck bonnets crushed and battered like

in

LOMDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON BOOR.

tkoM of fish-women; oxer their gowsi they
itan A ftrong leathern apron, extending from
tiieir necki to the extremities of their petticoati,
while oxer thii, again, wai anothtr leathern apron,
shorter, thickly |Mdded, and fiutened by a stout
string or stiap round the waist In the process
of their work they pushed the sjeve from them
and drew it back again with apparent violence,
striking it against the outer leathern apron with
such force that it produced each time a hollow
sound, like a blow on the tenor drum. AU the
women present were middle aged, with the excep-
titn of one who was very old — 68 years of age
she told me — and had been at the business from
a girL She was the daughter of a dustman, the
wife, or woman of a dustman, and the mother of
several young dustmen — sons and grandsons-^«AU
at work at the dust-yards at the east end of the

• metropolis.

We now come to speak of the labourers engaged
in collecting, sifU^g^ or shipping off the dust of
the metrop^if.

The dustmen, scavengers, and nightmen are, to
a certain extent, the same people. The contnc-
tors generally agree with the various parishes to
remove both the dust from the houses and the
mud from the streets; the men in their em-
ploy are indiscriminately engnged in these two
aivenii occupations, collecting the dust to-day, and
often cleansing the streets on the morrow, and are
designated eiUier dustmen or scavengers, accord-
ing to their particular avocation at the moment
Tm case is somewhat different, however, with
respect to the nightmen. There is no such thing
as a contract with the parish for removing the
nightsoii. This is done by private agreement
with the landlord of the premises whence the soil
has to be removed. When a cesspool requires
emptying, the occupying tenant communicates tviih
the landlord, who makes an arrangement with a
dust-contractor or sweep-nightman for this pur-
pose. This operation is totally distinct from the
regular or daily labour of the dust-contractor's
men, who receive extra pay for it; sometimes
one set go out at night and sometimes another,

. according either to the selection of the master or
the inclination of the men. There are, however,
some dustmen who have never been at work
as nightmen, and could not be induced to do so,
bom an invincible antipathy to the employment ;
still, such instances are few, for the men generally
go whenever they can, and occasionally engage in
Bightwork for employers unconnected with their
masters. It is calculated that there are some bun-
dreds of men employed nightly in the removal of
the nightsoii of the metropolis during the summer
and autumn, and as these men have often to work
at dust-collecting or cleansing the streets on the
following day, it is evident that the same persons
cannot be thus employed every night; accordingly
the ordinary practice is for the dustmen to " tske
it in turns," thus allowing each set to be em-
ployed every third night, and to have two nights*
rest in the interim.

The men, therefore, who collect the dust on
one day may be cleaning tlie strceU on the next,

espedally dnriiig wet weather, and engaged at
night, perhaps, twiee daring the week, in re-
moving nightsoii ; so that it is difficult to arrive
at any precise notion as to the nomber of persons
engaged in any one of these branches per te.

But these labonreis not only work indiscri-
minately at the collection of dust, the cleansing
of the streets, or the removal of nightsoii, bu:
they are employed almost as indiscruunately at
the various branches of the dnst business ; with
this qualification, however, that few men apply
themselves continuously to any one branch of the
business. The labourers employed in a dust-yard
■ay be divided into two dasscs : those paid by
the contractor; and those paid by the foreman or
forewoman of the dust-heap, commonly adled
hill-man or hill-woman.

They are as follows : — »

I. LiBOirURS PAID BT THI CkMTftACTOBS, OR,

1. Yard foreman, or superintendent This
duty is often performed by the master,
especially in small contnets.

2. Oanfftn or dtuH^coUeelon. These are
called "fillers" and "carriers," from the
practice of one of the men who go out with
the cart filling the basket, and the other
earrying it on his shoulder to the vehicle.

8. Loiden of carts in the dust-yard for ship-

4. Cvrrien of cinders to the dnder-heap, or
bricks to the brick-heap.

5. Fcreman ot forewoman of the heap.

II. LuiOVBSRfl PAID BT THI HILIrlUH OB
HILIrWOMAV.

1. S^fUrt, who are genendly women, and
mostly the wives or concubines of the
dustmen, but sometimes the wives of badlj-
paid labourers.

2. FUleri-int or shovellers of dust into the
sieves of the sifters (one man being allowed
to every two or three women).

8. Carriers of of bones, rags, metal, and other
perquisites to the various heaps; these are
mostly children of the dustmen.

A medium-sized dust-yard will employ about
twelve collectors, three fiUers-in, six sifters, and
one foreman or forewoman ; while a huge yard
will afford work to about 150 people.

There are four different modes of payment
prevalent among the several labourers employed
at the metropolitan dust-yards :— <1) by the day;
(2) by the piece or load; (8) by the lump; (4)
by perquisites.

1st. The foreman of the yard, where the master
does not perform this duty himself, is generally
one of the reguUur dustmen picked out by the
master, for this purpose. He is paid, the sum of
2t, 6d, per day, or 15s. per week. In large yards
there are sometimes two and even three yard-
foremen at the same rate of wages. Their duty is
merely to superintend the work. They do not
labour themselves, and their exemption in this
respect is considered, and indeed looked on
by themselves, as a sort of premium for good
services.

2ud. The gangers or collectors are generally

L

iyvc

THE LONDON SWEEP

iFrom a DagutrvU^fpe ly Ocard.]

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR

173

paid S€L per load for OTery load they bring into
the yard. This is, of coorae, piece work, for the
more hoara the men work the more loada will
they be enabled to bring, and the more pay will
they receive. There are some yardi where the
carters get only 6(2. per load, as, for instance, at
Paddington. The Paddingtonmen, however, are not
considered inferior workmen to the rest of their
fellows, but merely to be worse paid. In 1826, or
25 years ago, the carters had It. 6eL per load ; but
at that time the contractors were able to get 1^
per chaldron for the soil and " brieze " or cinders ;
then it began to fall in value, and aecording to the
decrease in the price of these commodities, so
have the wages of the dust-collectors been reduced.
It Avill be at once seen that the reduction in the
wa^'cs of the dustmen bears no proportion to the
reduction in the price of soil and cinders, but it
must be borne in mind that whereas the con-
tractors formerly paid large sums for liberty to
collect the dust, they now are paid large sums to
remove it This in some measure helps to account
for the apparent disproportion, and tonds, perhaps,
to equaliie the matter. The gangers, therefore,
have 4d, each, per load when best paid. They
consider from four to six loads a good day's work,
for where the contract is large, ezten^ng over
sererai parishes, they often have to travel a long
way for a load. It thus happens that while the
men employed by the Wlutechapel contractor
can, when doing dieir utmost, manage to bring
only four loads a day to the yard, which is
situated in a pb^e called the '* ruins " in Lower
Shadwell, the moi employed by the Shadwell
contractor can easily get eight or nine loads in a day.
Five loads are about an average da3r's work, and
this gives that Is. ^\d, per day each, or 10s.
per week. In addition to this, the men have
their perquisites " in aid of wages." The collec-
tors are in the habit of getting beer or money in
lieu thereof, at nearly all the houses from which
they remove the dust, the public being thus in a
manner compelled to make up the rate of wages,
which should be paid by the employer, so that
what is given to benefit the men really goes to
the master, who invariably reduces the wages to
the precise amount of the perquisites obtained.
This is the main evil of the " perquisite system
of payment* (a system of which the mode of
paying waiters may be taken as the special type).
As an instance of the injurious effects of this mode
of payment in connection with the London dust-
men, the collectors are forced, as it were, to extort
from the public that portion of their £ur earnings
of which their master deprives them ; hence, how can
w« wonder that they make it a rale when they receive
neither beer nor money from a house to make as
great a mess as possible the naxt time they come,
mattering the dust and cinders about in such a
manner, that, sooner than have any trouble with
them, people mostly give them what they look for ?
Oue of the most intelligent men with whom I have
*p»ken, gave me the following account of his per-
J^ifites for the last week, viz. : Monday, fi^d. ;
Tuesday, 64. ; Wednesday, 4i<;. ; Thursday, Id, ;
Friday, 5^d, ; and Saturday, (>d. This he received

in money, and was independent of beer. He had
on the same week drawn rather more than five loads
each day,to the yard, which made his gross earnings
for the week, wages and perquisites together, to be
lit, 0\d. which he considers to be a fair average
of his weekly earnings as connected witb dust

8rd. The loaders of the carts for shipment are
the same persons as those who collect the dust,
but thus employed for the time being. The pay
for this work is by the " piece " also, 2d, per
chaldron between four persons being the usual
rate, or ^d, per man. The men so engaged
have no perquisites. The barges into which they
shoot the soil or *'briese," as the case may be,
hold firom 60 to 70 chaldrons, and they consider
the loading of one of these barges a good day's
work. The average cargo is about 60 chaldrons,
which gives them 2s. 6of. per day, or somewhat
more than their average earnings when collecting.

4th. The carriers of cinders to the cinder
heap. I have mentioned that, ranged round the
sifters in the dust-yard, are a number of baskets,
into which are put the various things found among
the dust, some of thaae being the property of the
master, and others die perquisites of the hill man
or woman, as the case may be. The ehders and
old bricks are the property of the master, and to
remove them to their pitper heaps boys are em-
ployed by him at Is. per day. These boys are
almost universflily the children of dustmen and*
sifters at work in tht yard, and thus not only
help to increase the earnings of the fiunily, but
qualify themselves to become the dustmen of •
future day.

5th. The hill-man or hiU-woman. The hil-'
num enters into an agreement with the contractor
to sift all the dust in the yard throughout the year
at so much per load and perquisites. The usual
sum per load is 6d., nor have I been able to ascer-
tain that any of these people undertake to do it at
a less price. Such is the amount paid by the
contractor for Whitechapel. The perquisites of
the hill-man or hill-woman, are rags, bones, pieces
of old metal, old tin or iron vessels, old booto and
shoes, and one-half of the money, jewellery, or other
valuables that may be found by the sifters.

The hill-man or hill-woman employs the follow-
ing persons, and pays them at the following rates.

Ist The sifters are paid Is. per day when
employed, but the employment is not constant
The work cannot be pursued in wet weather, and
the services of the sifters are required only when
a large heap has accumulated, as they can siA
much fiister than the dust can be collected. The
employment is therefore precarious ; tho payment
has not, for the hut 30 years at least, been more
than 1*. per day, but the perquisites were greater.
They formerly were allowed one-half of whatever
was found; of Ute years, however, the hill-man has
gradually reduced the perquisites " firtt one thing
and then another," until the only one they have
now remaining is half of whatever money or other
valuable article may be found in the process of
sifting. These valuables the sifters often pocket,
if able to do so unperceived, but if discovered in the
attempt, they are immediately discharged.

I.,.

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

2nd. "The fillert-in," or tlioTellen of diut
into the sieves of sifters, are in general any poor
fellows who may be straggling about in seardi of
employment. They are sometimes, howoYer, the
grown-ap boys of dustmen, not yet permanently
engaged by the contractor. These are pud 2«.
per day for their labour, but they are considered
more as casualty men, though it often happens, if
"hands'* are wanted, that they are regularly en-
gaged by the contractors, and become reguUr dost-
men for the remainder of their lives.

Srd. The little feUows, the children of the
dustmen, who follow their mothers to the yard,
and help them to pick rags, bones, &&, out of the
sieve and put them into the baskeU, as soon as
they are able to carry a basket between two of
them to the sepaiste heaps, are paid Zd.ia id,
per day for this work by the hill-man.

The wages of the dostmen have been increased
within the lost seven years from M, per load to
8d amonff the large contractors— the "small
masters," however, still continue to pay 6c{. per
load. This increase in the rate of remuneration
was owing to the men complaining to the com-
missioners that they were nd able to live upon
what they earned at Qd, ; an enquiry was made
into the truth of the men's assertion, and the re-
sult was that the commisidners decided upon letting
the contracts to such parties only as would under-
"take to pay a fiur price to their workmen. The
contractors, accordingly, inentsed the remunera-
tion of the hibourers; since then the principal mas-
ten have paid ^d, per load to the collectors. It is
right I should add, that I could not hear — thooff h
I made special enquiries on the subject — that the
wages had been in any one instance reduced since
Free-trade has come into operation.

The usual hours of labour vary according to
the mode of payment. The " collectors/' or men
out with the cart, being paid by the load, work
as long OS the light huts; the " iillers-in" and
sifters, on the other hand, being paid by the day,
work the ordinary hours, viz., from six to six,
with the regular intervals for meals.

The summer is the worst time for all hands, for
then the dust decreases in quantity ; the collecton,
however, make up for the "slackness'* at this
period by nightwork, and, being paid by the
" piece" or load at the dust business, are not dis-
charged when their employm^^nt is less brisk.

It has been shown that the dustmen who per-
ambulate the streets usually collect five loads in a
day; this, at M, per load, leaves them about
Is. M, each, and so makes their weekly earnings
amount to about 10s. per week. Moreover,
there are the "perquisites" from the houses
whence they remove the dust; and further,
the dust-collecton are frequently employed at
the night-work, which is always a distinct mat-
ter from the dust-collecting, &c, and paid for
independent of their reguUr weekly wages, so
that, from all I can gather, the avenge wages of
the men appear to be rather more than 15s.
Some admitted to me, that in busy times they
often earned 25s. a week.

Then, agab, dustwork, as with the weaving of

silk, ia a kind oT £ynily work. The husband,
wife, and children (unfortunately) all work at it.
The oonseqneoee is, that the earnings of the whole
have to be added together in order to arrive at
a notion of the aggregate gains.

The ibllawing may therefore be taken aa a fair
average of the earnings of a dustman and his
£unily wken t» JuU trnphpnenL The elder boys
when able to earn Is. a day set up for them-
selves, and do not allow their 'wages to go into
the eommon purse.

£. s. d. £. s. d,

Man, 5 loads per day,
or 80 loads per week, at
id. per load .... 0 10 0

Perquisites, or beer
money 0 2 9^

Night-voric for 2 nights
a week 0 5 0

Woman, or sifter, per
week, at Is. per day . . 0

Perquisites, say Zd. a
day 0

Child, 8<2. per day, car-
rying rags, bones, &c . —

6 0
1 6

0 17 r»i

0 16

Total • 1 6 9}

These are the earnings, it should be borne in
mind, of a fiunily in fuU employment Perhaps
it may be fairly said that the earnings of the
single men are, on an avenge, 15«. a week, and
1^ for the fiunily men all the year rotmd.

Now, when we remember that the wages of
many agricultural labouren are but Si. a week,
and the earnings of many needlewomen not 6d. a
day, it must be confessed that the remuneration
of the dustmen, and even of the dustwomen, is
comparatively high. This certainly is not due
to what Adam Smith, in his chapter on the
Difference of Wages, terms the " disagreeable-
ness of the employment" "The wages of la-
bour," he says, " vary with the ease or hardship,
the cleanliness or dirtiness, the honourableness
or dishonourableness, of the employment" It
will be seen — when we come to treat of
the nightmen — that the most offensive, and per-
haps the least honourable, of all trades, is far from
ranking among the best paid, as it should, if the
above principle held good. That the disagreeable-
ness of the occupation may in a measure tend to
decrease the competition among the labourers,
there cannot be the least doubt, but that it will
consequently induce, as political economy would
have us believe, a larger amount of wages to accrue
to each of the labourers, is certainly another of
the many assertion% of that science which must
be pronounced " not proven." For the dustmen
are paid, if anything, less, and certainly not more,
than the usual rate of payment to the London
labourers; and if the earnings rank high, as
times go, it is because all the memben of the
fiunily, from the very earliest age, are able to
work at the business^ and so add to the general
gains.

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

175

u

The dottmen are, genenlly speaking, an he-
reditarj lace ; when children they are reared in
the diut-yard, and are habituated to the work
gradoally as they grow up, after which, almost as
a natural consequence, they follow the business
for the remainder of their lives. These may
be said to be bom-and-bred dustmen. The num-
bers of the regular men are, however, firom time
to time recruited from the ranks of the many ill-
paid labourers with which London abounds.
When bands are wanted for any special occasion
an employer has only to go to any of the dock-
gates, to find at all times hundreds of starving
wretches anxiously watching for the chance of
getting something to do, even at the rate of id.
per hour. As the operation of emptying a dust-
bin requires only the ability to handle a shovel,
which every labouring man can manage, all work-
men, however unskilled, can at onoa angage in
the occupation; and it often happens t&t the
men thus casually employed remain at the calling
for the remainder of their lives. There are no
houses of call whence the men are taken on
when wanting work. There ore certainly public-
houses, which are denominated houses of call, in
the neighbourhood of every dust-yard, but these
are merely the drinking shops of the men, whither
they resort of an evening after the labour of the
day is accomplished, and whence they are fur-
nished in the course of the afternoon with beer ;
but such houses cannot be said to constitute the
dustman's "labour-market," as in the tailoring
and other trades, they being never resorted to
as hiring-placcs, but rather used by the men only
when hind. If a master have not enough
" hands'* he usually inquires among his men, who
mostly know some who — owing, perhaps, to the
failure of their previous master in getting his
usual contract — are only casually employeid at
other places. Such men are immediately en-
gaged iff preference to others ; but if these cannot
be found, the contractors at once have recourse to
the system already stated.

The manner In which the dust is collected is very
simple. The "filler" and the "carrier" perambulate
the streets with a heavily-built high box cart, which
is mostly coated with a thick crust of filth, and drawn
by a clumsy-looking horse. These men used, before
the passing of the Ute Street Act, to ring a dull-
sounding bell so as to give notice to housekeepers
of their approach, but now they merely cry, in a
hoarse unmusical voice, " Dust oy-eh 1" Two men
accompany the cart, which is furnished with a short
ladder and two shovels and baskets. These baskeU
one of Uie men fills from the dust-bin, and then
helps them altemsitely, as £ut as they are filled,
upon the shoulder of the otber man, who carries
them one by one to the cart, which is phiced im-
mediatdy alongside the pavement in front of the
house where they an at work. The carrier
mounts np the side of the cart by means of the
ladder, discharges into it the contents of the
basket on his shoulder, and then xetums below
for the other basket which his mate has filled for
him in the interim. This process is pursued till
all is dsared away, and repeated at di£&rent houses

till the cart is fully loaded ; then the men make
the best of their way to the dust-yard, where
they shoot the contents of the cart on to the
heap, and again proceed on their regular rounds.

The dustmen, in their appearance, very mncb
resemble the waggoners of the coal-merchants.
They generally wear knee-breeches, with ancle
boots or gaiters, short dirty smockfrocks or coarse
gray jackets, and fan tail hats. In one particular,
however, they are at first sight distinguishable
from the coal-merchants' men, for the latter are
invariably black from coal dust, while the dust-
men, on the contrary, are gray with ashes.

In their personal appearance the dustmen are
mostly tall stalwart fellows; there is nothing sickly-
looking about them, and yet a considerable part
of their time is passed in the yards and in the
midst of effluvia most offensive, and, if we believe
" zymotic theorists," as unhealthy to those unaccus-
tomed to them ; nevertheless, the children, who
may be said to be reared in the yard and to have
inhaled the stench of the dus^heap with their
first breath, are healthy and strong. It is said,
moreover, that during the plague in London the
dustmen were the persons who carted away the
dead, and it remains a tradition among the class
to the present day, that not one of them died of
the plague, even during its greatest ravages. In
Paris, too, it is well known, that, during the cho-
lera of 1849, the quarter of Belleville, where
the night-soil and refuse of the city is deposited,
escaped the freest firom the pestilence; and in
London the dustmen boast tbaty during both the
recent visitations of the cholera, they were alto-
gether exempt from the disease. "Look at that
fellow, sir 1" said one of the dust-contracton to
me, pointing to his son, who was a stout red-
cheeked young man of about twenty. " Do you
see anything ailing about him ? Well, he has been
in the yard since he was bom. There stands
my house just at the gate, so you see he hadn't
far to travel, and when quite a child he used to
play and root away here among the dust all bis
time. I don't think he ever had a day's illness
in his life. The people about the yard are all
used to the smell and don't complain about it.
It 's all stuff and nonsense, all this talk about
dust-yards being unhealthy. I 've never done
anything else all my days and I don't think I
look very ill. I shouldn't wonder now but what
I 'd be set down as being fresh from the sea-side
by those very fellows that write all this trash about
a matter that they don't know just that about ;" and
he snapped his fingers contemptuously in the aii^
and, thrusting both hands into his breeches pockets,
strutted about, apparently satisfied that he had the
best of the argument He was, in fiurt, a stout,
jolly, red-£Med man. Indeed, the dustmen, as
a class, appear to be healthy, strong men, and
extraordinary instances of longevity are common
among them. I heard of one dustman who^ lived
to be 115 years; another, named Wood, died at
100; and the well-known Bichard Tyrrell died
only a short time back at the advanced age of 97.
The misfortune is, that we have no large series of
fiicts on this subject, so that the longevity and

176

LONDON LABOUR AND TEE LONDON J'OOJL

health of the duftmen might be compared with
thoie of other clewei.

la almoit all their hafaiti the Bnitmea are
timilar to the OoatenBongeriy with the exception
that thej leem to want their dmniiig and natural
qnielEBeH^ and that thej have little or no pre-
dilection for gaming. Coeteimongen, howoTor,
are emeotially tnd«i^ and all trade is a apedes
of gamUing— the riakiiig of a certain ram of money
to obtain more ; hence wpnag, perhant, the gam-
"■■, ncu. a

Uing propenaitiet of low tiaden^
and Jew dothee^nen ; and hence, too, that natund
iharpneet which chacacteriaei the mme claaMS.
The dustmen, on the contrary, haTO regokr «n-
ployment and something like regular wages, an^
therefore rest content with what they can earn in
dieir usual way of business.

Very few of them understand cards, and I could
not learn that they erer play at " pitch and toss."
I remarked, howerer, a number of parallel lines
such as are used for playing " shoTo halfpenny,"
on a deal table in the tap-room frequented by
them. The great amusement of their cTenings
seems to be, to smoke as many pipes of tobacco
and drink as many pots of beer as possible.

I believe it will be found that all persons in the
habit of drinng horses, such as cabmen, 'busmen,
stage-coach driyers, &e., are peculiarly partial to in-
toxicating drinks. The cause of this I leave
others to determine, merely observing that there
would seem to be two reasons for it : the first is,
their frequent stopping at pablic-houses to water or
change their horses, so that the idea of drinking
is repeatedly suggested to their minds even if the
practice be not expected of them ; while the second
reason is, that being out continually in the wet,
they resort to stimulating liquors as a preventive to
** colds " until at length a habit of drinking is
formed. Moreover, from the mere fact of passing
continually through the air, they are enabled to
drink a greater quantity with comparative im-
punity. Be the cause, however, what it may, the
dustmen spend a large proportion of their earnings
in drink. There is always some public-house in
the neighbourhood of the dust-yard, where they
obtain credit from one week to another, and
here they may be found every night from the
moment their work is done, drinking, and
smoking their long pipes — their principal amuse-
ment consisting in *' chaffing " each other. This
" chaffing " consists of a species of scurrilous jokes
supposed to be given and taken in good part, and
the noise and uproar occasioned thereby increases
as the night advances, and aa the men get heated
with liquor. Sometimes the joking ends in a
general quarrel ; the next morning, however, they
are all as good friends as ever, and mutually agree
in laying the blame on the " cussed drink."

One-half, at least, of the dustmen's earnings, is,
I am assured, expended in drink, both man and
woman assisting in Squandering their money in this
way. They usually live in rooms for which they

Say from 1<. 6<{. to 2«. per week rent, three orfour
ust-men and their wives frequently lodging in the
same house. These rooms are cheeilesa£>oking,
and almost unfurnished— and are always situate

in some low itxieet or lane not for from the du9t>
yard. Tha men have rarely any clothes but those
in which they work. Far their bceakfoat the dustmen
on their nsmds mostly ^ to aome cheap coffee-
hoBse, where they get a pmt or half-pint of coffee,
taking their bread with them aa a matter of eco-
nomy. Their midday meal is taken in the public-
honse, and is almost always bread and cheese and
beer, or dae a savalcj or a pieoe of fat pork or
baooB, and at night they mostly " wind up " by
deep potations at thsir fibvoarite house of call.

There are many dustmen now advanoed in years
bom and reared at the Bast<end of London,' who
have never in the whole oonrse of their Uvea been
aa for west as Temple-bar, who know nothing
whatever of the afSuis of the country, and who
have never attended a place of worship. As an
instance of the extreme ignonmoe of th«se people,
I may mssrtion that I was furnished by one of the
contraotofa with the addreM of a dustman whom
his master considered to be one of the most in-
telligent men in his employ. B«ng desirous of
hearing his statement from his own lips I sent for
.the man, and after some conversation with him
was proModing to note down what he said, when
the moment I opened my note-book and took the
pencil in my hand, he started up, exclaiming, —
'* No, no ! I '11 have none of that there work —

I 'm not such a b fool as yon takes me to be

— I doesn't understand it, I tells you, and I '11
not have it, now that's plain;" — and so saying
he ran out of the room, and descended the entire
flight of stairs in two jumps. I followed him to
expbiin, but unfortunatisly the pencil was still in
one hand and the book in the other, and imme-
diately I made my appearance at the door he
took to his heels, again with three others who
seemed to be waiting for him there. One of the
most difficult points in my labours is to make such
men as these comprehend the object or use of my
investigations.

Among 20 men whom I met in one yard, there
were only five who could read, and only two out
of that five could write, even imperfectly. These
two are looked up to by Aieir companions as pro-
digies of learning and are listened to as oracles,
on all occasions, being believed to understand
every subject thoroughly. It need hardly be
added, however, that their acquirements are of
the most meagre character.

The dustmen are very partial to a song, and
always prefer one of the doggrel street ballads,
with what they call a ** jolly chorus " in which,
during their festivities, they all join with stento-
rian voices. At the conclusion there is usually
a loud stamping of feet and rattling of quart pots
on the table, expressive of their approbation.

The dustmen never frequent the twopenny
hops, but sometimes make up a party for the
" theaytre." They generally go in a body with
their wives, if mairi^ and their " gals," if single.
They are always to be found in the gallery, and
greatly enjoy the melodramas performed at the se-
cond-class minor theatres, especially if there be
plenty of murdering seenes in them. The Qar-
rick, previoBS to its being bamt» was a fiivourite

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

177

retort of the East-end dnstxiMn. Bmee that period
they have patronized the PaTilion and the Gitj
of London.

The politics of the dostmen are on a par with
their literary attainments — they cannot be said
to haTe any. I cannot say that they are
ChartisU, for they have no very dear know-
ledge of what "the charter" requires. They
certainly have a confused notion that it is some-
thing against the €K>vemment, and that the
enactment of it would make them all zi|ht ; but
as to the nature of the benefits which it would
confer upon them, or in what manner it would be
likely to operate upon their interest, they have
not, as a body, the slightest idea. They have
a deep-rooted antipathy to the police, the maffis-
trates, and all connected with the adnunistration
of jastice, looking upon them as their natural
enemies. They associate with none but them-
selves; and in the public-houses where they
resort there is a room set apart for the special
use of the " dusties/' ns they are called, where no
others are allowed to intrude, except introduced
by one of themselves, or at the special desire of
the majority of the party, and on such occasions
the stranger is treated with great respect and
consideration.

As to the m9rals of these people, it may easily
be supposed that they are not of on over-strict
character. One of the contractors said to nie,
" I 'd just trust one of tbem as far as I coulil
flinff a bull by the tail; hut (h<ni,*^ he added,
with a callousness that proved the laxity of
discipline among the men was due more to his
neglect of his duty to them than from any
special perversity on their parts, **ihat*s
none of my hiuintss; they do my irorl, and
that's all I vant with tfiem, and all I care
about. T«n see they're not like other people,
they 're reared to it. Their &thers before them
were dustmen, and when lads they go into the
yard as sifters, and when they grow up
they take to the shovel, and go out with the
carts. They learn all they know in the dust-
Yards, and you may judge from that what their
learning is likely to be. If they find anything
among the dust you may be sure that neither
you nor I will ever hear anything about it;
ignorant as they are, they know a little too much
for that. They know, as well as here and there
one, where the dolly-shop is ; bnt, as I said
hrfore, that *s none of my business. Let every one
look out for themselves, as I do, and then they
need not care for any one." [With such masters
professing such principles — though it should be
stated that the sentiments expressed on this occa-
sion are but similar to what I hear from the
lower class of traders every day — how can it be
expected that these poor fellows can be above the
level of the mere beasts of burden that they
use.] "As to their women,** continnad the
master, ^I don't trouble my head about such
things. I believe the dustmen are as good tothem as
other men ; and I 'm sure their wives would be as
good as other women, if they only had the ehanee
of the best But yon see they 're all such fellows

for drink that they spend most of their money
that way, and then starve the poor women, and
knock tiiem about at a shooking rate, so that
they have the life of dogs, or worse. I don't
wonder at anything they do. Tes, tiiey're
all married, as fitf as I know ; that is, they live
together as man and wife, thongh they've aot
very particular, certainly, aboat the cerenny.
The feet is, a regubr dostman don't nndentand
much about such mattan, md, I beliere, doi't
care much, either."

From all I could leara on this subject, it would
appear that, for one dustman that is married, 20
live with women, but remain constant to them ;
indeed, both men and women abide feithfuUy by
each other, and for this reason — the woman earns
nearly half as mnch as the man. If the men
and women were careful and prudent, they might,
I am assured, live well and comfortable ; but by fer
the greater portion of the earnings of both go to
the publican, for I am inform^, on competent
authority, that a dustman will not think of sitting
down for a spree without his woman. The children,
.as soon as they are able to go into the yard, help
their mothers in picking out the rags, bones, &c,
from the sieve, and in putting them in the basket
They are never sent to school, and as soon as they
are sufficiently strong are mostly employed in some
capacity or other by the contractor, and in due
time become dustmen themselves. Some of the
children, in the neighbourhood of the river, are
mud-larks, and others are bone-grubbers and rag-
gatherers, on a small scale ; neglected and thrown
on their own resources at an eariy age, without
any but the most depmved to guide them, it is no
wonder to find that many of them turn thieves. To
this state of the case there are, however, some few
exceptions.

Some of the dustmen are prudent well-behaved
men and have decent homes ; many of this class
have been agricultural labourers, who by distress,
or from some other cause, have found their way to
London. This was the case with one whom I
talked with: he had been a labourer in Bssez,
employed by a fermcr named luod, whom he
spoko of as being a kind good man. Mr. Inod
had a large farm on the Earl of Momington's
estate, and after he had sunk his capital in the
improvement of the land, and wm about to
reap the fruits of his labour and his money, the
farmer was ejected at a moment's notice, beggared
and broken-hearted. This occurred near Roydon,
in Essex. The labourer, finding it difficult to obtain
work in the country, came to London, and, dis-
covering a cousin of his engaged in a dust-yard, got
employed through him at the same place, where
he remains to the present day. This man was
well clothed, he had good strong lace boots, gray
worsted stockings, a stout pair of corduroy breeches,
a short smockfrock and iantaiL He has kept
himself aloof, I am told, from the dmnkenneat and
dissipation of the dustmen. He says that aaany
of the new hands that get to dnstwoik are me-
chanics or people who have been "better off,** and
that these get thinking about what they ham been,
till to drown their care thej take to driakiag, and

178

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOJL

often become, in the coune of a year or so, wone
than the ** old hands " who have been reared to
the business and hare " nothing at all to think
about"

Among the dustmen there is no " Society " noi
" Benefit Club/' specially devoted to the ckss—
no provident institution whence they can obtain
"ftlief" in the event of sickness or accident.
The consequence is that, when ill or injured, they
are obliged to obtain letters of admission to some
of the hospitals, and there remain till cured. In
cases of total incapacity for labour, their inva-
riable refuge is the workhouse ; indeed they look
forward (whenever they foresee at all) to this
asylum as their resting-place in old age, with the
greatest equanimity, and talk of it as " the house "
par excellence, or ns " the big house," *' the great
house," or "the old house." There are, however,
scattered about in every part of London numerous
benefit clubs mode up of working-men of every
description, such as Old Friends, Odd Fellows,
Foresters, and Birmingham societies, and with
tome one or other of these the better ckss of
dustmen are connected. The general rule, how-
ever, is, that the men engaged in this trade be-
long to no benefit club whatever, and that in
the season of their adversity they are utterly
unprovided for, and consequently become burdens
to the parishes whorein they happen to reside.

I visited a large dust-yard at the east end of
London, for the purpose of getting a statement
from one of the men. Hy informant was, at the
time of my visit, shovelling the sifted soil from
one of the lesser heaps, and, by a great effort of
strength and activity, pitching each shovel-full to
the top of a lofty mound, somewhat resembling a
pyramid. Opposite to him stood a little woman,
stoutly made, and with her arms bare above the
elbow ; she was his partner in the work, and was
pitching shovel-full for shovel-full with him to the
summit of the heap. She wore an old soiled
cotton gown, open in front, and tucked up behind
in the fiuhion of the last century. Hhe had
clouts of old rags tied round her ancles to prevent
the dust from getting into her shoes, a sort of
coarse towel fastened in front for an apron, and a
red handkerchief bound tightly round her head.
In this trim she worked away, and not only kept
pace with the man, but often threw two shovels
for his one, although he was a tall, powerful
fellow. She smiled when she saw me noticing
her, and seemed to continue her work with greater
assiduity. I learned that she was deaf, and spoke
so indistinctly that no stranger could understand
her. She had also a defect in her sight, which
latter circumstance had compelled her to abandon
the sifting, as she could not well distinguish the
various articles found in the dust-heap. The poor
creature had therefore taken to the shovel, and now
works with it every day, doing the kbour of the
strongest men.

From the man above referred to I obtained the
following statement :— " Father vos a dustie ;—
vos at it all his life, and grandfi&ther afore him for
I can't tell how long. Father vos alius a rum 'un ;
— iich a beggar for lush. Vhy I 'm Wowed if he |

rouldn't lush aa much aa half-a-doxen on 'em can
lush now; lomehow tha dusties hasn't got the
stuff in 'em as they used to have. A few year
ago the fellers 'u'd think nothink o* lushin avay
fur five or six days without niver going anigh their
home. I niver vos at a school in all my life ; I
don't know what it 's good for. It may be wery
well for the likes o* you, but I doesn't know it
'u'd do a dustiu any good. You see, ven I 'ra
not out wiih the cart, I digs here all day ; and
p'raps I 'm up all night, and digs avay agen the
next day. Yot does I care for reading, or any-
think of that there kind, ven I gets home arter
my vork ? I tell you vot I likes, though 1 vhy, I jist
likes two or three pipes o' baocer, and a pot or two
of good heavy and a song, and then I tumbles in
with my Sail, and I'm as happy as here and
there von. That there Sail of mine 's a stunner —
a riglar stunner. There ain't never a voman can
sift a heap quickercr nor my Sail. Sometimes
she yarns as much as I does ; the only thing is,
she 's sitch a beggar for lush, that there Sail of
mine, and then she kicks up sitch jolly rows, you
niver see the like in your life. That there 's the
only fiiult, as I know on, in Sail; but, barring
that, she 's a hout-and-houter, and worth a half-a-
dozen of t' other sifters — pick 'em out vare you
likes. No, we ain't married 'zactly, though it 's all
one for all that. I sticks to Sail, and &dl sticks
to I, and there 's an end on 't : — ^vot is it to any
von 1 I rec'lects a-picking the rags and things out
of mother's sieve, when I were a young 'un, and a
putting 'em all in the heap jist as it might be
there. I vos alius in a dust-yard. I don't think
I could do no how in no other place. Ton see I
vouldn't be 'appy like; I only knows how to
vork at the dust 'cause I'm used to it, and so
vos father afore me, and 1 11 stick to it as long as
I can. I yarns about half-a-bull [2s, 6d,] a day,
take one day with another. Sail sometimes yarns
as much, and ven I goes out at night I yams a
bob or two more, and so I giu along pretty tidy ;
sometimes yarniu more and sometimes yarnin less.
I niver vos sick as I knows on; I've been
queerish of a morning a good many times, but I
doesn't coll that sickness ; it 's only the lush and
nothink more. The smells nothink at all, ven
you giu used to it. Lor' bless you ! you 'd think
nothink on it in a vcek's time, — no, no more nor
I do. There 's tventy on us vorks here — ^riglar.
I don't think there s von on 'em 'cept Scratchey
Jack can read, but he can do it stunning; he's
out vith the cart now, but he 's the chap as can
patter to you as long as he likes."

Conceraing the capital iind income of the Lon-
don dust business, the following estimate may be
given as to the amount of property invested in
and accruing to the trade.

It has been computed that there are 90 con*
tractors. Urge and small ; of these upwards of two-
thirds, or About 85, may be said to be in a con-
siderable way of business, possessing many carts
and horses, as well as employing a large body of
people ; some yards have aa many as 150 hands
connected with them. The remaining 55 masters
are composed of *' amall men," some of whom are

LONDON LABOUR AND TUB LONDON POOR.

179

known m " rnnning dustmen," tbat ii to my, |>er-
•onf who collect the dul without any lanction
from the parish ; but thenoiber belonging to this
class has considerably diminished since the great
deterioration in the price of *' briese.** Assuming,
then, that the great and little master dustmen
employ on an average between six and seren carts
each, we have the following statement as to the

Capital of tok Losdon Dust Tp.ade.
600 Carts, at 20^ each . . . £12,000
600 Horses, at 251. each . . . 15,000
600 SeU of harness, at 21. per set 1,200
600 Ladders, at 5t. each ... 150

1200 Baskets, at 2f. each . . . 1*20

1200 Shovels, at 2f. each . . . 120

Being a total capital of

£28,590

If, therefore, we assert that the capital of this
trade is between 25,000^. and 80,000/. in value,
we shall not be hr wrong either way.

Of the annual income of the same trade, it is
almost impossible to arrive at any positive results;
but, in the absence of all authentic information on
the subject, we may make the subjoined conjec-
ture.

IXOOXK OF THE LoKDOM DcST TlUPE.

Bom naid to contractors for the re-
moval of dust from the 176 metropo-
litan parishet, at 200/. each parish . £35,200

Sum obtained for 900,000 loads of
dost, at 2«. 6c/. per load . . . 112,500

£147,700

Thot it would appear that the total income of
the dust trade may be taken at between 145,000/.
and 150,000/. per annum.

Against this we have to set the yearly out-
goings of the business, which may be roughly
estimated as follows ^—

BXFUDITUBI OF THB LoVDOR DuST TrADE.

Wages of 1800 laboorers, at 10«. a
week each Aodnding sifters and car-
riers) £46,800

Keep of 600 horses, at lOt. a week
each 15,C00

Wear and tear of stock in trade . 4000

Kent for 90 yards, at 100/. a year
each (brga and small) 9000

£75,400

The iboTo estimates give ns the following ag-
gregate results : —

Total yearly incomings of the Lon-
don dust trade .... £147,700

Total yeariy on^gomgs . 75,400

Total yearly profit £72,800

Henee it wonld appear that the profits of the
dnst-contractors are very nearly at the rate of
100/. per oent on their expenditure. I do not

think I have over estimated the incomings, or
under estimated the out-goings ; at least- 1 have
striven to avoid doing so, in order that no in-
justice might be dono to the members of the
trade.

This aggregate profit, when divided among the
90 contractors, will make the clear gains of each
master duntman amount to about 800/. per annum ;
of coursd some derive considerably more than thii
amount, and some considerably less.

Of THE LoNDOH Seweoaob and Soayevobbt.
Tub subject I have now to treat— principally as
regards street-Ubour, but generally in its sanitary,
soci:il, and economical bearings — may really be
termed vast. It is of the cleansing of a capital city,
with its thousands of miles of streets and roads
0/4 the surface, and its thousands of miles of
sewers and drains under the surface of the earth.
And first let me deal with the subject in a his-
torical {>oint of view.

Public scavengery or street-cleansing, from the
earliest periods of our history, since municipal
authority regulated the internal economy of our
cities, lias been an object of some attention. In
the records of all our civic corporations may be
found bye-hiws, or some equivalent measure, to
enforce the cleansing of the streets. But these
regulations were little enforced. It was ordered
that the streets should be swept, but often enough
men were not employed by the authorities to
sweep them ; until afier the great fire of London,
and in many parts for years after that, the trades-
man's apprentice swept the dirt from the front of
his master's house, and left it in the street, to be
removed at the leisure of the scavenger. Thii
was in the streets most foroous for the wealth
and commercial energy of the inhabitants. The
streets inhabited by the poor, until about the
beginning of the present century, were rarely
swept at all. The unevenness of the pavement,
the accumulation of wet and mud in rainy
weather, the want of foot-paths, and sometimes
even of grates and kennels, made Cowper, in one
of his letters, describe a perambulation of some of
these streets as " going by water."

Even this state of things was, however, an
improvement In the accounts of the London
streetpbroils and fights, firom the reign of Henry
III., more especially during the war of the
Roses, do«ii to the civil wnr which terminated
in the beheading of Charles I., mention is more
or less made of the combatants having availed
themselves of the shelter of the rubbish in the
streets. These mounds of rubbish were then
kinds of street-barricades, opposing the progresa
of passengers, like the piles of overturned omni*
buses and other vehicles of the modem French
street-combatants. There is no doubt that in the
older times these mounds were composed, first,
of the earth dug out for the foundation of tome
building, or the sinking of some well, or (kter
on) the formation of some drain ; for these worki
were often long in band, not only firom the inter-
ruptioni of civil strife and from want of funds^
but from faidifllerenoe, owing to the long dday in

180

LOITDOir LABOUR AND THE LOm>0S POOR,

their eomplatioii, and were oftm altogether ahsii-
doned. After diuk the itreeti of the capital ff
England could not he traTened without limternB
or torchei. This was the caie until the lait
40 or 50 jean in nearly all the emaller towni of
England, hut there the darimeei was the prin-
cipal ohetade; in the inMor parti of "Old
London," howerer, there were the additional in-
ooBTenieneei of broken limbs and robbery.

It would be easy to addnee instances from the
olden wziters in proof of all the above statements,
but it teems idle to cite proofi of what is known
toalL

The care of the streets, howerer, as regards
the removal of the dirt, or, as the weather might
be, the dust and mud, seems never to have been
much of a national consideration. It was left to
the corporations and the parishes. Each of these
Ittd its fiwn especial arrang^ements for the collec-
tion and remoral of dirt in its own ttreeU ; and
as eaflh parochial or municipal system generally
differed in some respect or other, taken as a
whole, there was no one geneial mode or system
adopted. To all this the streetpmnnagement of
our own days, in the respect of scavengery, and,
as I shall show, of sewerage, presents a decided
improvement This improvement in street-ma*
nagement is not attributable to any public agita-
tion—to any public, and, far less, national mani-
festation of feeling. It was debated sometimes
in courts of Common Council, in ward and
parochial meetings, but the public generally seem
to have taken no express interest in the matter.
The improvement seems to have established itself
gradually from the improTcd tutes and habits of
the people.

Although generally left to the local powers, the
subject of street^leansing and management, how-
ever, has not been entirety overlooked by Parlia-
ment. Among parliamentary enactments is the
measure best known as "Michael Angelo Taylor's
Act," passed early in the present century, which
requires all householders every morning to re-
move from the front of their premises any snow
which may have fallen during the night, &c., &c. ;
the late Police Acts also embrace subordinately
the subject of street-management

On the other hand the sewers have long been
the object of national care. " The daily great
damages and losses which have happened in many
and divers parts of this realm'* (I give the spirit
of the preamble of sereral Acts of Parliament),
" as well by the reason of the outrageous flow-
ings, surges, and course of the river in and upon
the marsh grounds and other low places, hereto-
fore through public wisdom won and made pro-
fitable for the great commonwealth of this reaUn,
as also by occasion of land waters and other out-
rageous springs in and upon meadows, pastures,
and other low grounds adjoining to rivers, floods,
and other watercourses," caused parliamentary
attention to be given to the subject

Until towards the latter part of the last cen-
tury, however, the streets even of the better order
were often flooded during heavy and continuous
rains, owing to the sewers and drains having

been choked, so that the sewage forced its way
through the gratings lata Ihe streets and yards,
flooding all tha undaqiioand apartments and
often Ae gnmnd floors of the houses^ as well as
the publio thoroughfioes with filth.

It is not many months since the neigh-
bourhood of 80 modem a locality as Waterloo-
bridge was flooded in this manner, and boats were
used in the Belvidere and Tork-roads. On the
1st of August, 1846, after a tremendous storm of
thunder, hail, and rain, miles of the capital were
literally under water; hundreds of publicans'
beer-cellars contained fax more water than beer,
and the damage done was enormous. These fiuts
show that though much has been accomplished
towards the efficient seweiage of the metropolis,
much remains to be accompEshed stilL

The first statute on the nlject of the public
sewerage was as early as the 9th jrear of the
reign of Henry III. There were enactments, also,
in most of the succeeding reigns, but they were
all partial and conflicting, and rdated more to
local desiderata than to any system of sewerage
for the public benefit, until the reign of Henry
YIIL, when the <'BiU of Sewers^ was passed
(in 1581). This act provided for a more general
system of sewerage in the cities and towns of the
kingdom, requiring the main channels to be of
certain depths and dimensions, according to the
localities, situation, &c. In many parts of the
country the sewerage is still carried on according
to the provisions in the act of Henry YIII., but
those provisions were modified, altoed, or " ez-
pUined," by many subsequent statutes.

Any uniformity which might have arisen from
the observance of the same principles of sewerage
was effectually checked by the measures adopted
in London, more especially during the last 100
years. As the metropolis increased new sewerage
became necessary, and new local bodies were
formed for its management These were known
as the Commissions of Sewers, and the members
of those bodies acted independently one of another,
under the authority of their own Acts of Parliar
ment, each having its own board, engineers, clerks,
oflicers, and workmen. Each commission was con-
fined to its own district, and did what was accounted
best for its own district with little regard to any
general plan of sewerage, so that London was, and
in a great measure is, sewered upon different
principles, as to the sixe of the sewers and drains,
the rates of inclination, &c. &c In 1847 there
were eight of these districts and bodies : the City
of London, the Tower Hamlets, Saint Katharine's,
Poplar and Blackwall, Holbom and Finsbury,
Westminster and part of Middlesex, Surrey and
Kent, and Greenwich. In 1848 these several
bodies were concentrated by act of parliament,
and entitled the ''Metropolitan Commission of
Sewers ;" but the City of London, as appean to
be the case with every parliamentary measure
affecting the metropolis|, presents an exception, as
it retains a separate jurisdiction, and is not under
the control of the general commissioners, to whom
parliament has given authority over such matters.

The management of the metropolitan scaven-

ZMUH)^ LABOUB ANB XffM £QiU)OJr HHiM.

181

gatyand §timeu^*ihtntan, diffurs in tluidraipcct
The BCKwmgerj it coromittftd to the care of the
several parishes, each making ita own contract ;
the sewerage is consigned by Parliamoni to a
body of commissioners. In both instances, how*
ever, the expenses are paid out of local rates.

I shall now proceed to treat of each of these
subjects separately, b^inniog with the cleansing
of the streets.

Of xbx Sibebts ov Lokdox.
Theub are now three modes of pavement in the
streets of the metropolis.

1. The stone pavement (oommimly composed
of Aberdeen granite).

2. The macadamized payment, or father road.

3. The wood paxeaunL

The stone pavement has generally, in the several
towns of England, been composed of whatever
material the quarries or rocks of the neighbour-
hood supplied, limestone being often thus
used. In some places, where there were no
quarries available, the stones of a river or rivulet-
side weia used, but these were rounded and
slippery, and often formed but a rugged pathway.
For Loudon pavement, the neighbourhood not
being rich in stone quarries, granite has usually
been brought by water from Scotland, and a small
qoanttly from Guernsey for the pavement of the
stnats. The stone pavement is made by the
placing of the granite stones, hewn and shaped
ready fas the purpose, side by side, with a foun-
dation of concrete. The concrete now used for
the London atreei-pavement is Thames ballast,
composed of shingles, or soudl itones, and mixed
with lime, &c

Haeadsmiaalion was not introduced into the
streets of London until about 25 years ago.
Before that, it had been carried to what was
accounted a great degree of perfection on many of
the principal mail and coach roads. Some 50
miles on the -Gceat North Road, or that between
London and Carlisle, were often pointed out as an
adminble specimen of road-making on Mac Adam's
principles.. This road .was well known in the old
coaehing days as Leming-lane, running from
Boroughbridge to Qreta Bridge, in Yorkshire.

The first thoroughfsre in London which was
macadamised, a weed adapted from the name of
Sir W. Mac Adam, the originator or great improver
of thesyatsiDy was St James's-square ; ^fter that,
some ii tha MiaUer streets in the aristocratic
parishes of fit; James and St. Qeoige were
thus pavsd, and ^en, but not without great oppo-
sition, Pioeaditty. The opposition to the macadam-
izing of the latter thoroughfiire assumed many forms.
IndapendttiUy of the conflicting statements as to
extnwaganoe and economy, it was urged by the
oppoBSBt^ Ihat the dust and dirt of the new style
of paving would cause the street to be deserted by
the aastoaacy— -that khenoiselessness of the traffic
woald caasa the daaths of the deaf and iufirm—
that tha adstocacy piomoted this Aaw-fapoM
stfaet-nvikiag, that ihay might the better "aEsep
o' nighu^'* MfMUaia of .all else. One writer a^pa-
cialiy «q;BilM IM ^ i^nke of QnaeubsRy,

popnlariy known as "Old Q.," who resided at the
western end of PiocadiUy, had not lived to enjoy,
undisturbed by volgar noises, his had of down,
until it was his hour to rise and take his bath of
perfomed milk 1 In short, there was all the iius
and absurdity which so often ohamcterise looal
conteats.

The maeadamiaed atreet is made by a layer
of stones, broken small and xegnlar in aise,
and spread evenly over the road, so that ^
pressure and friction of the traffic will knead,
grind, crush, and knit them into one «ompaet
surface. Until road-making became better
understood, or until the early part of the
present century, the roads even in the subarha
immediately connected with London, such
as Islington, KingsUmd, Stoke Newington, and
Hackney, were *' repaired when they wanted it.**
If there were a ** rut," or a hole, it was fiUed up cv
covered over with stones, and as the drivoa uaoall^
avoided such parU, for the sake of their horses'
feet, another rut was speedily formed alongside of
the original <me. Under the old system, road-mend-
ing was patch-work; defects were sought to be
remedied, but there was little or no knowledge of
constructing or of reconstructing the surfsce as a
whole.

The wood pavement came last, and was not
established, even partially, until deven or twelve
years ago. One of the earliest pkces so paved was
the Old Bailey, in order that the noise of the street-
traffic might be deadened in the Criminal Courts.
The same plan was adopted alongside some of the
churches, and other public buildings, where ex-
ternal quietude, or, at any rate, diminished
noise, was derired. A.t .the first, there were
great complaints made, and frequent expostulations
addressed to the editors of the newspapers, as to the
slippcriness of the wooden ways. The wood
pavement is formed of blocks of wood, generally
deal, fitted to one another by grooves, by joints,
or by shape, for close adjustment They are
pUiced on the road over a body of concrete, in the
same way as granite.

" In constructing roads, or rather streets,
through towns or cities, where the amount of
traffic is considerable, it will be found desirable,"
says lir. Law, in his 'Treatise on the Con-
structing and Bepairing of Boads,' *'to pava
their surface. -The advantages belonging to pave-
ments in such situations over macadamised roads
are considerable ; where the latter are exposed to
an incessant and heavy traffic, their suifrwe be-
comes rapidly worn, rendering constant repairs
requisite, whkh ace not only attended with very
heavy expense, but also render the road veiy
unpleasant fior being travellod upon while being
done; they also require rouoh more attention in
the way of soaping or sweepmg, and in raking in
ruts. And some difficulty would be experienced
in towns to jfind phices in whidi the materiali^
which would be constantly wanted for repairing
the road, could be deposited. In dry weather tha
macadamised road would always be dusty, and in
wat weather it woiM be ootvered with Bad. The
only advantage which such a road really f

No. ZZZYIL

182

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR,

Tery i

orer a payement is the less noise prodnoed by
carriages in passing oyer it ; but this adnutage is
BTj small when the payement is properly laid.**

Concerning wood paTements the same gentle-
man says, ** Of late years wood has been intro-
dooed as a material for paying streets, and has
been rather eztensiyely employed both in Rossia
and America. It has been tned in yarioos parts
of London, and generally with small sncoess, the
cause of its fulnre bein^ identical with the cause
of the enormous sums being spent annually in the
repairs of Uie streeU genersUy, namely, the want of
a proper foundation; a want which was sooner
felt with wood than with granite, in consequence
of the less weight and inertia of the wood. The
comfort resulting from the use of wooden paye-
ment, both to those who trayelled, and those who
liyed in the streets, from the diminished jolting
and noiae, was so great, that it is just matter of
inrprise that so litde care was taken in forming
that which a yery little consideration would haye
diown to be indispensable to its success, namely,
a good foundation. Slipperiness of its snr&ce, in
particular states of the weather, was also found to
be a disadyantage belonging to wooden payement ;
but means might be devised which would render
its surfiue at all timet safe, and afford a secure
footing for horses. As regards durability, it has
scarcely been used fat a sufficient period to allow
a comparison being made with other materials,
but from the result of some obeenrations com-
municated by Mr. Hope to the Scottish Society of
Arts, it appears that wooden blocks when placed
with the end of the grain exposed, wear Imt ika%
graniu. At first sights this resdt might appear
questionable, but it is a well-ascertained &ct thaty
where wood and iron moye in contact in
machinery, the iron generally wears more rapidly
than the wood, the reason appearing to be, that
the surface of the wood soon becomes covered
with particles of dust and grit, which become
partially embedded in it, and, while they serre to
protect the wood, convert its surface into a species
of file, which rapidly wears away whatever it rubs
against"

Such then are the difierent modes of construct-
ing the London roads or streets. I shall now
endeavour to show the relative length, and relative
cost of the streets thus severally prepared for the
commercial, professional, and pleasurable transit of
the metropolis.

The comparative extent of the macadamized, of
the stone, and of the wood pavement of the streets
of the metropolis has not as yet been ascertained,
for no genend account has appeared condensing
the reports, returns, accounts, &c, of the several
specific bodies of management into one grand total.

It is, however, possible to arrive at an approxi-
mation as to the comparative extent I have spoken
of ; and in this attempt at approximation, in the
absence of all means of a definite statistical com-
putation, I have had the assistance of an expe-
rienced and practical surveyor, fiuniliar with the
subject

Macadamisation prevails beyond the following
boundaries : —

North of the New-road and of its extension, as
the City-road, and westward of the New-road*s
junction with Lisson-grove.

Westward of Park-lane and of the West-end
parks.

Eastward of Brick-lane (Spitalfields) and of the
Whitechapel High-street

Southwiird (on the Surrey side) firom the New-
cut and Long-lane, Bcrmondsey, and both in
the eastern and western direction of Southwark,
Lambeth, and the other southern parishes.

Stone pavement, on the other hand, prevails in
the district which may be said to be within this
boundary, bearing down upon the Thames in all
directions.

It is, doubtlessly, the fiict that in both the dis-
tricts thus indicated exceptions to the general rule
may prevail — that in one, Ibr instance, there
may be some miles of macadamised vray, and in
the other some miles of granite pavements ; but
such exceptions, I am told by a Commissioner
of Paving, may fiurly be diinussed as balancing
each other.

The wooden payement, I am informed on the
same authority, does not now comprise five miles
of the London tliorough&ras; little notice, there-
fore, need be taken of it

The miles of streets in the City in which stone
only affords the street medium i locomotion are
50. The stone pavement in the localities outside
of this area are six times, or approaching to seven
times, the extent of that in the City. I have no
actual admeasurement to demonstrate this noint,
for none exists, and no' private individual can
offer to measure hundreds of miles of streets in
order to ascertain the comporition of their sur-
face. But the calculation has been made for me
by a gentleman thoroughly conversant with the
subject, and well acquainted with the general
relative proportion of the defined districts,
parishes, and borouffhs of the metropolis.

We have thus the following result, as regards
the inner police district^ or Metropolis Proper : —

Miles.

Qranite {mved streets ...... 400

Macadamised ditto (or roads) . . . 1350

Wood ditto 5

Total . . . 1755
This may appear a disproportionate estimate,
but when it is remembered that the inner police
district of the metropolis extends as &r as Hamp-
stead. Tooting, Brentford, and Greenwich, it will
be readily perceived that the relative proportions
of the macadamised and paved roads are much
about the same as is here stated.

As to the cost of these several roads, I will,
before entering upon that part of the subject,
state the prices of the diffioent materials used in
their manufitcture.

Aberdeen gnnite is now 1/. 5<. per ton, de-
livered, and prepared for paving, or, as it is often
called, ** pitching." A ton of <' seven inch **
granite, that is, granite sunk seven inches in the
ground, will cover from two and three-quarters to
three square yards, superficial measure, or nine

LONDON LABOUR AND THB LONDON POOR.

183

feet per jard. The cost, labour included, is,
therefore, from 9«. to I2t, the ■qoare yard. This
appears very costly; but in some of the more
quiet streets, such as those in the immediate
neighbourhood of Golden and Fitxroy-squares, a
good granite payement will endure for 20 years,
requiring little repair. In other streets, such as
Cheapside, for instance, it lasts from three to four
years, without repayement being necessary, sup-
posing the best construction has been originally
adopted.

For macadamized streets, where there is a traffic
like that of Tottenham Court-road, three layers of
small broken granite a year are necessary ; the
cost of thu repayement being about 2s, 6d. a
yard superficial measure. The repairs and re-
layings on macadamized roads of regular traffic
range from 4s. to 6s. 6d. yearly, the square yard.

The wood payement, which endures, with a
trifling outlay for repairs, for about three years,
costs, on an ayerage, lis. the square yard.

The concrete used as a foundation in this
street-construction costs is, 6(2. a cube yard, or
27 feet, by which admeasurement it is always
odculated. A cube yard of Thames ballast weighs
about 1^ ton.

The average cost of street-building, new, taking
an ayerage breadth, or about ten yards, from foot-
path to footpath, is then—

Per MUe.

£. s, d.

Ghanite built 96 0 0

Macadamiaed 44 0 0

Wood 88 0 0

Or, as a total,

400 miles of granite payed streets

at £96 per mile . . . .88,400 0 0
1350 maoidamized ditto, at

£44 per mile 59,400 0 0

5 wood ditto, at £88 per mile . 440 0 0

98,240 0 0

This, then (about £100,000), is the original
cosi of the roads of the metropolis.

The cost of repairs, &c, annually, is shown by
the amount of the paying rate, which may be
taken as an average.

£ s. d.
400 miles of granite, at 20s. per

mile 400 0 0

1350 macadamized ditto, at

£13 4s. per mile . . . 17,820 0 0
5 wood* ditto, at 20s. per mile 5 0 0

Total , . . 18,225 0 0

Aceording to a " General Survey of the Metro-
politan Hi^ways," by Mr. Thomas Hughes, the
principal roads leading out of London are : —

1. 2^ Cambridge Road, from Shoreditch
through KingsUnd.

* Thb rdatcs merelT to th« repairs to the wooden
I paircmeBt, but if a renewal of the blocks be neceasary,
then the eoet utproechcs that of a new road; and a re-
newal is consMRed neecstary about onoe in thiee years.

From Islington, by and
through Bamet.

2. The Bpping and Chdv^ford Roads, from
Whitechapel, through Bow and Stratford.

3. Th4 Barking Road, along the Commercial
Road past Limehouse.

4. TAe Dover Road, fbm the Elephant and
Castle, across Blackheath.

5. The Brighton Roads, (a) through Croydon,
(f) through Sutton.

6. The Guildford Road, along the Westminster
Road through Battersea and Wandsworth.

7. The Staines, or Great Western Road, from
Knightsbridge through Brentford.

8. The Amersham and Aylesbury Road, along
the Harrow Boad, and through Harrow-on-the«
Hill.

9. The St. Alban*s Road, along the Edgeware
Boad through Elstree.

10. The Oxford Road, from Bayswater through
Ealing.

11. The Great
Holyhead Road.

12. The Great
North Road,

As to the amount of resistance to traction
offered by different kinds of pavement, or the same
pavement under different circumstances, the follow-
ing are the general results of the experiments
made by M. Morin, at the expense of the French
Government : —

1st The traction is directly proportional to the
load, and inversely proportional to the diameter (^
the wheel.

2nd. Upon a paved, or hard macadamized road,
the resistance is independent of the width of the
tire, when it exceeds from three to four inches.

3rd. At a walking pace the traction is the same,
under the same circumstances, for carriages wiUi
springs and without them.

4th. Upon hard macadamized, and upon paved
roads, the traction increases with the velocity : the
increments of traction being directly proportional
to the incremenU of velocity above the velocity
3*28 feet per second, or about 2^ miles per hour.
The equal increment of traction thus due to each
equal increment of velocity is less as the road is
more smooth, and the carriage less rigid or better

5th. Upon soft roads of earth, or sand, or turf,
or roads frinh and thickly gravelled, the traction is
independent of the velocity.

6th. Upon a well-made and compact pavement
of hewn stones, the traction at a walking pace is
not more than three-fourths of that upon the best
macadamized roads under similar circumstances;
at a trotting pace it is equal to it.

7th. The destruction of the road is in all casea
greater, as the diameters of the wheels are less,
and it is greater in carriages without than with
springs.

In Sir H. Pamell's book on roads, p. 78, we aie
told that Sir John Macneill, by means of an in-
strument invented by himself for measuring the
tractive force required on different kinds of road,
obtained the following general results as to the
power requisite to move a ton weight under ordi-
nary drcnmstaneesy at a very low velocity.

184

houfhov iABoun Aum tub loir^oir poor.

DeicrlptioB of Road.

FoTOttln
Nmndi, !«•
qutredto
more A ton.

Ob a well'iimde paTcmenl . .

On a road made with fix inches of >
faoken stone of grpat hardness,
Uid either on a foundation of large '
•tonet, set in the form of a nare- i
ment, or upon a bottoming of con-

On an old flint road, or a to$A made ' \
with a thick costing of bnken '
stone, laid on earth

On a road made with a thick coating
of gntrel, faiid on earth . . .

33
46

05
147

In the same work the relative degrees of resist-
ance to traction on the several kinds of roads are
thus expressed : —

On a timber surface ••...•. 3

On a paved road 2

On a well-made broken stone road, in a

dry clean state 5

On a well-mnde brdien stone road,

covered with dust 8

On a wellnnade broken stone road, wet

and muddy 10

Oa a gravel or flint road, in a dry

dean state 13

On a gravel or flint road, in a wet

muddy state 82

Ot TUB Tbaffio ov Lovsov.

I «aTB shown (at p. 169, vol. ii.) that the nam-
bar of miles of streets included in the Inner Dis-
trict of the Metropolitan Police is 1750.

Mr. Peter Guniiinghmn, in his excellent " Hand-
book of Modem London,** tells ns that "the
streets of the Metropolis, if pnt together, would
measure 3000 miles in length ;" but he does not
inform us what limits he assigns to the said
metropolis; it would seem, however, that he
refers to the Outer Police District : and in an-
other place he cites the following as the extent of
some of the principal thoroughfares : —
New-road . . 5115 yds. long, or nearly 8 miles.
Oxford-street , 2304 „ ,, U „

Begent-strcet ,1730 „ „ 1 „

Piccadilly . . 1690 „
City-road . . 1690 „
Strand . . . 1390 „

Of the two great lines of streets parallel to the
river, the one extending along Oxford-street, Hol-
bom, Gheapside, Gomhill, and Whitechapel to the
Begent's^anal, Mile-end, is, says Mr. McCulloch,
''aboTo six miles in length,*" while that which
stretches from Knightsbridge along Piccadilly, the
Haymarket, Pall-mall East, the Strand, Flee^
street, Watlhng^ftreet, Basteheop, Tower-street,
and so on by Eatelii!e-highway to the West India
Docks, is, oceording to the same authority, about
eqnol ia length to the other. Mr. Wede asserts,
as we have nhmif seen, that the greatest length
of street fran east to v«it is aboot flmrteen milef,

and from north to south about thirteen miles. The
number of streets in London is said to be 10,000,
thongh upon vrhat authority the statement is
made, and within what compass it is meant to bo
applied, I have not been able to ascertain. It is
calculated, however, that there are 1900 miles of
gas "mttfus* laid down in London and the
suburbs; so that adopting the estimate of the
Oommissioncrs of Police, or 1760 miles of streets,
within an area of about 90 square miles, we can-
notffo far wrong.

l^w, as to the amount of (rc^ that takes
place daily over this vast extent of paved road, it
is almost impossible to predicate anything defi-
nitely. As yet there are only a few crude facts
existmg in connection with the subject. All we
know iir, that the London streets are daily tra-
versed by 1500 omnibuses— snch was the number
of drivers licensed by the Metropolitan Cora-
missionen in 1850 — and about 8000 cabs — the
number of drivers licensed in 1850 was 5000,
but many "cabs" have a day and night driver as
well, and the Return from the Stamp and Tax
Office cited below, represents tho number of
licensed cabriolets, in 1819, at 2840: besides
those public conveyances, there arc the prirate car-
riages and carts, so that the metropolitan vehicles
may be said to employ altogether upwards of
20,000 horses.

In the Morning Ch'onide I said, when treat-
ing of the London omnibus-drivers and conductors :
— •' The average- jonrney, as regards the distance
tmvelled by - each omnibus, is six miles, and
that distance is, in- some tosrs, travelled twelve
times a day, or as it is called, 'six there and
six back.' Some omnibuses perform the journey
only ten times n day, and some, but a minority,
a less number of times. Now, takinif the
average diHtance tni veiled by each omnibus nt
between 45 and 50 miles a day — and this, I aui
assured, on the best authority, is within the mark,
while 60 miles a day might exceed it — and com-
puting the omnibuses running daily at 1500, wc
find ' a travel,' as it was worded to me, of up-
wards of 70,000 miles daily, or a yeariy 'trarel '
of more than 25.000,000 miles; on extent
which is upwards of a thousand times more than
the circumference of the earth ; and that this esti-
mate in no way exceeds tho truth is proved by
the sum annually paid to the Excise for 'mileage,'
which amounts on an average to 9/. each ' bus '
per month, or collectively to 102,000/. per annmn,
and this, at '\\d. per mile (the rate of duty
charged), gives 25,920,000 miles as the aggregate
distance tmvelled by the entire number of omni-
buses every year through the London streets."

The distance travelled by the London oabsmay
be estimated as follows : — BSnch driver may be
said to receive on an average IO5. a day all the
year through. Now, the number of licences prove
that there are 5000 cnb drivers in London, and as
each of these must travel at the least ten miles in
order to obtain the daily 10«., we may safely
assert that the whale 5000 go over 50,000
muea or gRmnv a di^, or, in lonnd mnben^
18,250,000 miles In tbe course of the year.

LONDON LAB^VR ANU THE LQNJDON POOR.

185

According to a return obtained by Mr. Charles
Gbduane from the Stamp and fkz Office, Bemertet
Booe^ them were m the melf»poli% m ld4»-5^,
the fbUowiag nomber of honet ^—

Pritate carnage, job, and cart lionet (in
London) 8,683

Ditto . . (in Wettminiter) 6,839

Cabrioleta HeeiiA 2846 Qmwiag tir»

horses each) • • • ^092

Omnibuses licensed 1850 (four horses
each) 5,500

Total nmnber of hones & Afmetropofis 21,S14

I am assured, bj persons well acquainted with
the omnibus trade, that the number of omnibus
horses here cited is fiir too low — as many proprie-
ton employ ten horses to each " bus," and none
less than six. Hence we may £urly assume that
there are at the least 25,000 horses at work every
day in the streets of London. Besides the horses
above mentioned, it is estimated that the number
daily coming to the metropolis from the surround*
ing parts is 8000 ; and calculating that each of the
25,000, which may be said to be at work out of
the entire number, travels eight miles a day, the
aggregate length of ground gone over by the whole
would amount to 200,000 miles per diem, or
iJ>out 70,000,000 miles throughout the year.
There are, as we have seen, upwards of 1750
miles of streets in London. It follows, therefore,
that each piece of pavement would be traversed
no less than 40,000 times per annum, or upwards
of a hondzed times a day, by some horse or
vehicle.

As I Mnd before, the facts that have been col-
lected concerning the absolute traffic of the seve-
zbI parts of London are of the most meagre des-
cription. The only observations of any character
thu have been made upon the subject are — as
fiur as my knowledge goes — those of H. D'Arcey,
which are contained in a French reptort upon the
roads of London, as compared with those of

This gentleman, speaking of the relauve nmnber
of tehidee paMing and repassing over certain parts
af &« twi^ capitals, says :— *' Th« Boulevards of
Farii arathe parU where the greatest traffic takes
phee. Ob tl» Boulevard det Capueint there pass,
•venr 24 hman, 9070 horses drawing carriages ;
on A»Baule9ardd€tItaliens, 10,750 ; Boulevard
PoutouOre, 7720; Boulevard 8U Denis, 9609;
Boulevard dee FiUes du Calvatre, 5856 : general
avenge of the above, 8600. Rue du Faubourg
», AnJkMu, 4800; Avenue des Champs ElysUs,
8958. At London, in Pall Hall, opposite Her
MaJBity's Theatre, then pass at least 800 car-
riages every hour. On London-bridge the number
tf vehieles passing and repassmg is not len than
18,000 erery hour. On Westminster-bridge the
smiBiil toAc amoanta to 8,000,000 horses at the
IsaC By this it wUl be seen that the tniia in
Pteis does Mi amount to oaa-half of what it is ia

Of THB Dust avd Dirt ot nn Studrs
Of LoxnoH.

Wi have merely to reflect upon the vast smount
of tnffic just shown to be daily gong sa through-
out London— to think of the 70,000,000 mUes
of journey through the metropolis annually per-
formed by the entin vehicles (which is mora
than twD-thirds the distance from the earth to
the sun) — to bear in mind that eaeh past of Lon-
don is on the average gone over and over again
40,000 time»in the eourse of the year, and some
parts as nunqr ss 18,000 .times m a day — and
that every horse and vehicle by which tiie sheets
ara traversed sie furnished, the one with four
iron-bound hooft, and the other with iion-bound
wheels — to have an imperfect idea of the enor-
mous wei^ts and friction continnally opemtmg
upon the surfiice of the streets — as well as the
amount of grinding and pulverising, and wear
and tear, that must be perpetually tsking place in
the paving-stones and macadamiaed roads of Lon-
don ; and thus we may be able to form some men-
tal estimate as to the quantity of dust and dirt
annually produced by these means alone.

Bdtthe table in pp. 186-7, which has been col-
lected at great trouble, will give us still mora accu-
rate notions on the subject. It is not given as per-
fect, but as being the best information, in the ab-
sence of positive retavns, Aat was procunbla even
from the best informed.

Here, then, we have an aggregate total of dust
collected from the prineipal parte of the metro-
polis amounting to no less than 141,466 loads.
The value of this nfuse is said to be as much as
21,221/. 8«., but of this and mora I shall speak
hereafter. At present I meraly seek to give the
reader a general notion upon the matter. I wish
te show him, befora treating of the labouren en-
gaged in the scavenging of the London stxeete,
the amount of work they have to da

Of the Strsk-Dust or Lokdov, ahd no
Loss AHD Ihjurt oooasionkd bt n.

Tax daily and nightly grinding of thou?
sands of wheels, the iron friction of so many
horses' hsofr, the evacuations of hones and cattle,
and the ceaseless motion of pedestrians, all de-
composing the substance of our strsete and roads,
give rise to many distinct kinds of streetdirt.
These ara severally known as

(1) DusL

h) Horse-dunp and caUle-manun,

^) Afud, when mixed with water and witb
genetal rafuse, sach as the remains of finil and
other thmgs thrown into the street and swept
together.

(4) Swface-water when mixed with street-
sewage.

These productions I shall treat severally, and
first of the street-dust

The ** detritus*' of the streeto of Loadon
assnmes many forms, and is known hy many
names, ascording as it is combined with mora or
less wmter.

188

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

Ist. In a perfectly dry itate, lo that the par-
tidei DO longer exist either in a state of cohesion
or aggregation, hut are minutely divided and dis-
tinct, it is known hy the name of ^ dust"

2nd. When in comhination with a small quan-
tity of water, so that it assumes the consistency
of a pap, the particles being naither free to move
nor yet able to resist pressure, the detritus is
known by the oaaa of "mac mud/' or simply
" mud,** according as it proceeds from a macadam-
ised or stone paved road.

8rd. When in combination with a greater qunn-
tity of water, so that it is rendered almost
liquid, it is known as " slop-dirt"

4tb. When in combination with a still greater
quantity of water, so that it is capable of running
off into the sewers, it is known by the name of
" street surfiwe-water."

The mud of the streets of London is then
Merely the dust or detritus of the granite of
which they are composed, agglutinated either with
rain or the water from the watering-carts. Gra-
nite consists of silez, felspar, and mica. Silex is
sand, while felspar and mica are also silez in
conikiiHtion with alumina (clay), and either potash
or magMsia. Hence it would appear to be owing
to the affinity of the alumina or clay for moisture,
as well as the property of silez to "gelatinize"
with water under certain conditions, that the
partides of dry dust derive their property of
agglvHnaUng, when wetted, and so forming what
is termed " mud " — either " mac," or simple mud,
according, as I said before, to the nature of the
paving on which it is formed.

By duH the street-cleansers mean the collection
of every kiud of refuse in the dust-bins ; but I
hare speak, of course, of the fine particles of earthy
matter produced by the attrition of our roads
when in a dry state. Street-dnst is, more properly
speaking, mud deprived of its moisture by fvapo-
raiion. Miss Landon (L. E. L.) used to describe
the London dust as "mud in high spirits," and
perhaps no figure of speech could convey a
better notion of its character.

In some parts of the suburbs on windy days
London is a perfect dust-mill, and although the
dust may be allayed by the agency of the water-
carts (by which means it is again converted into
" mac," or mud), it is not often thoroughly allayed,
and is a source of considerable loss, labour, and
annoyance. Street-dust is not coll^cted for any
useful purpoee, so that as there is no return to be
balanced against its prejudicial effi.'cts it remains
only to calculate the quantity of it annually pro-
duced, and thus to arrive at the extent of the
mischied

Street-dust is disintegrated granite, that is, pul-
verized quartz and felspar, felspar being princi-
pally composed of alumina or day, and quartz
silez or sand ; it is the result of the attrition, or
in a word it is the delriULt, of the stones used in
pavements and in maeadunization ; it is further
composed of the pulverintioa of all horso and
cattle-dung, and of the almost Smptsseptible, but
still, I am assured, ezistent powder which uiiioa

from the fricdon of the wooden pavement even
when kept moist. In the roads of the nearest
suburbs, even around such places as the Regent's-
park, at many seasons tnis dust is produced
largely, so thi^ very often an open window for
the enjoyment of fresh air is one for the intrusion
of firsh dust. This may be loss the case in the
busier and more frequently-watered thoroughfares,
but even there the annoyance is great.

I find in die " Reports" in which this subject
is mentioned but little said concerning the in-
fluence of dust vpon the public health. Dr.
Amott, however, is very explicit on the subject
•* It is," says be, " scareely conceivable that the
immense quantities of granite dust, pounded by
one or two hundred thousand pairs of wheels (I)
working on macadamized streets, should not
greatly injure the public health. In houses bor-
dering such streets or roads it is found that, not-
withstanding the practice of watering, the furni-
ture is often covered with dust, even more than
once in the day, so that writing on it with the
finger becomes legible, and the lungs and air
tubes of the inhabitants, with a moist lining to
deUin the dost, are constantly pumping in the same
atmosphere. The passengers by a stage-coach in
dry weather, when the wind h moving with them
so as to keep them enveloped in the cloud of dust
raised by Uie horses* feet and the wheels of the
coach, have their clothes soon saturated to white-
ness, and their lungs are charged in a correspond-
inff degree. A gentleman who rode only 20
miles in this way had afterwards to cough and ex-
pectorate for ten days to dear his chest again."

In order that the deleteriousness to health in-
ddent to the inhaktion of these fine and offensive
particles may be the better estimated, I may
add, that in every 24 hours an adult breathes
36 hogsheads of air ; and Mr. Erasmus Wilson,
in his admirable work on the Skin, has the fol-
lowing passage concerning the eztent of surface
presented by the lungs : —

" The lungs receive the atmospheric air through
the windpipe. At the root of the neck the wind-
pipe, or trachea, divides into two branches, called
bronchi, and each bronchos, upon entering its
respective lung, divides into an infinity of small
tubes; iIm; latter terminate in small pouches,
called air-cells, and a numher of these little
aircells communicate together at the extremity
of each snmll tube. The number of air-cells in
the two lungs has been estimated at 1,744,000,000,
and the extent of the skin which lines the ceils
and tubes togethor at 1500 square feet. This col- '
cuktion of the number of air-cells, and the extent
of the lining membrane, rests, I believe, on the
authority of Dr. Addison of Malvern.''

What is the amount of atmospherical granite,
dung, and rofuse-dnst received in a given period
into the human lungs, has never, I am informed,
been ascertained even by approximation ; but ac-
cording to the above feoto it must be remething
fearful to contemplate.

After this brief recital of what ia known concern-
ing the sanitary part of dto qj^HMlMi, I proeeed to
consider the damage aii4 leVLMHisittied by streei-

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

189

doit In no one respect, perhapi, can this be
aseertftined with perfect prNSifoB, bat itfll eren
a rongh approximation to the extent of the cTil
if of Tfdne, as giring us more definite ideas on the
■abject

It will be seen, on reference to the preceding
table, that the quantity of street-refuse collected
in dry weather throughout the metropolis is be-
tween 300 and 400 cart-loads daily, or upwards
of 100,000 cart-loads, the greater proportion of
which may be termed street-dust

The damage occasioned by the street dust
arises from its penetrating, before removal, the
atmosphere both without and within our houses,
and consists in the soiling of wearing apparel, the
injury of the stock-in-trade of shopkeepers, and
of household furniture.

Washing is, of courve, dependent upon the
duration of time in which it is proper, in the
estimation of the sereral classes of society, to
retain wearing apparel npon the person, on the
bed er the Uble, without what is termed a
^change;" and this duration of time with thou-
mumU of both men and women is often deter-
mined by the presence or absence of dirt on the
garment ; and not arbitrarily, as among wealthier
people, with whom a clean shirt every morning,
and a dean table-cloth erery one, two, three, or
mora da3rB, as may happen, are regarded as things
of eouie, no matter what may be the state of the
displaced linen.

. The Boaid of Health, in one of their Beports,
speak very decisively and definitely on this sub-
ject " Common observation of the rate at which
the skin, Unen, and clothes (not to speak of paper,
booka, prints, and furniture) become dirty in the
raetropelis," say they, "as compared with the time
that elapses before a proportionate amount of
deterioration and uncleanliness is communicated in
the rural districts, will warrant the estimate, that
full OMMf the txp€nH of wuking to maintain
apattable decree of cleanlinest, is rendered ne-
cessary by the excess of smoke generated in open
fires, and the ejxeu of dust arising from the im-
petfeet scavenging qf ths roads and streets. Per-
sons engaged in washing linen on a large scale,
state that it is dirtied in the crowded parts of the
metropolis in one-third the time in which the like
degree of uncleanliness would be produced in a
rural district; but all attest the fact, that linen is
more npidly destroyed by washing than by the
wear om tiM person. The expense of the more
impid daatraction of linen most be added to the
extm expense of washing. These expenses and
ineoATenienoes, the greater portion of which arc
due to local nuUadininistnUionf ocoasiwn an extra
expenditure of upwards of two to three millions
per tttmwm exclnsiTe of the injuiy done to the
genccal health and the medical and other expenses
eeoae^Bent thereon."

Heee^ tken, we find th« evil eifecti of tibe in-
perfeet scanreng ing of the metrepelis estimated at
betwiBLn two and three millions sterling per annum,
aad tkim in tlM mere natter ei extra wasfeAng' and
its neeeaarj coMiiiltaDi extra wear Md tear of
clothea.

Aj this estimate, however, appears to me
to exaggerate the evU beyond all due boands, I
will proceed to adduce a few facts, bearing npon
the point : and first as to the expense of washing.

In order to ascertain as accurately as possible,
the actual washing expenses of labouring men and
their families whose washing was done at home,
Mr. John Bullar, the Honorary Secretary to the
Association fer the Promotion of Baths and Wash-
houses, tells us in a Report presented to Parliament,
"that inquiries were made of several hundred
families of labouring men, and it was found that,
taking t?ie wyfes labour as worth 5s. a week I the
total cost of washing at home, for a man and wife
and four children, averaged jtsrj closely on 2s, 6d.
a week, » 5d, a head. The cost of coals, soda,
soap, starch, blue, and sometimes water, waa
rather less than one-third of the amount The
time occupied was rarely less than two days, and
more often extended into a third day, so that the
value of the labour was rather more than two-
thirds of the amount

" The cost of washing to single men among the
labouring classes, whose washing expenditure
might be expected to be on a very low tifkt, inch
as hod-men and street-sweepers, was feniid to be
Hd, a head.

" The cost of washing to very email tndesmen
could not be safely estimated at nach more than
6d. a head a week.

" It may, perhaps," continues the Report, " be
safe to reckon the weekly washing expenses of the
poorer half of the inhabitants of the metropolis at
not exceeding QeL a head ; but the expenditnie for
washing rapidly increases as the inquiry assenda
into what are called the ' middle dassea.'

"The washing expenses of femilies in which
servants are employed may be eenaidcred aa
double that of the servants*, and^ therefore, aa
ranging from Is. 6d. to 5s, a week a head.

" There is considerable difficulty in ascertaining
with any exactness the washing expenditure of
private families, but the conclusion is that, taking
the whole population, the washing bills of London
arc nearly U. a week a head, or 5,000,000^. a year.

" Of course," adds Mr. Bullar, " I give this as
but a rough estimate, and many exceptions may
easily be taken to it ; but I feel pretty confident
that it is not veiyfar firom the truth."

As I before stated, I am in no way disposed
to go to the extent of the calculation here made.
It appears to me that in parliamentary investiga-
tions by the agency of select committees, or by
gentlemen appointed to report on any subject,
there is an aptitude to deal with the whole
body of the people as if they were earning the
wages of well and regulariy-employed labourers,
or even mechanics. To suppose that the starr-
ing ballast-heaver, the victim of a vicieos trudk
system, which condemns him to poverty and
drunkenness, or the sweep, or the dnstmao,
or the street-seller — all very numerous daasei —
expends Is. a week in his washing, is far beyond
the feet Still less is expended in the waehing
of these people's children. B«reB the well-eon-
ducted artizan, wMi firs cletn shifts a week

190

LONDON LABOUR AND TUB LONDON POOR.

(cotting him 6d.), with ih/b wuhing of itoekingi,
&e. (oostinff Id, or 2d.), doei not expend 1«. a
week; lo that, though the wuhing hills of many
Indies and of some gentlemen may aTorage 10«.
weekly, if we consider how few are ridi and
how many poor, the extra payment seems insuffi-
cient to lukke up the ayenge of the weekly
shilling for the washing of all ^Mses.

A prosperous and respectable master green-
grocer, who was what may be called " particuUr "
m his dress, as he had been a gentleman's serrant,
and was now k the habit of waitine upon the
wealthy persons in his neighbourhood, told me
that the followbg was the arerage of his washing
bill He was a hashslnr ; all his washing was
put out, and he conMerad his expenditure far
obove the arerage of bis chus, as many used no
^ht^hirt, but slept in the ihirU they wore during
tha day, and paid only ScL, and OTon less, per
•hilt to their washer-woman, and perhaps, and
more especially in winter, made one shirt last the
week.

Two shirts (per week)

Stockings

Nightshirt (worn two weeks ge-
nerally, average per week)

Sheets, blankets, and other house-
hold linens or woollens •

Handkerchief ....

7d.
1

01
2

lid.

Hy informant was satisfied that he had put his
expenditure at the highest I also ascertained that
an industrious wife, who was able to attend to her
household matters, could wash the clothes of a
•mall tradesman's family, — ^for a man, his wife,
and four small children, — " well," at the following
rate: —

1 lb. soap .
Soda and starch
J cwt. coals (extra)

i\d, or 5d.
Oh

S^d.

or leis than 1 \d, per head.

In this calculation it will be seen the cheapest
soap is reckoned, and that there it no attowanee
for the wifet labour. When I pointed out the
latter ciiciunstance, my informant said : " I look
on it that the wasUng labour is part of the wife's
keep, or what she gives in return for it ; and that
as she 'd have to be kept if she didn't do it, why
there shouldn't be no mention of it. If she was
working for others it would be quite different,
but washing is a family matter; that's my way
of looking at it Coke, too, is often used instead
of coals ; besides, a bit of bacon, or potatoes, or
the tearkettle, will have to be boiled, and that 's
managed along with the hot water for the suds,
and would have to be done anyhow, especially in
winter.'*

One decent woman, who had five children,
"all under eight,' told me she often sat up half,
and sometimes the whole night to wash, when
busy other ways. She was not in poverty, for

she earned " a good bit " in going ont to cook, and
her husband was employed by a pork-bntcber.

I may further add, that a great many single men
wash their owndothea. Manyofthestree^sellenin
particular do this; so do Rich of the poor ae live in
their own rooms, and occasionally the dwdlen in
the low lodging-houses. One street-seller of ham
sandwiches, whose uions, sleeves, and tiay-eloth,
were remarkably white, told me that he washed
them himself, as well as his shirt, &&, and that
it was the common practice with his class. This
washing — his aprons, tray-cloths, shirts, and stock-
ings included — cost him, every three weeks, i\d.
or 5d. for 1 lb. of soap, which is less than l^d. a
week. Among snch people it is considered that the
washing of a shirt is, as they say, *' a penn'orth of
soap, and the stockings in," meaning that a penny
outlay is sufficient to wash for both.

But not only does Mr. BuUar^s estimate exceed
the truth as regards the cost of washing among
the poorer classes, but it also ens in the propor-
tion they are said to bear to the other ranks of
society. That gentleman spedu of " the poorer
he^f of the inhabitants of the metropolis," as if
the rich and poor were equal in numbers I but
with all deference, it will be found that the ratio be-
tween the well-to-doand the needy is as 1 to 2, that
is to say, the property and ineome-tax returns teach
us there are at least two persons with an income 6«/ow
150/. per annum, to every one having an income
above it Hence, the population of London being,
within a fraction, 2,400,000 ; the numbers of the
metropolitan well-to<lo and needy would be re-
nectively 800,000 and 1,600,000, and, allowing
uie cost of the washbg of the former to average
It, per head (adults and children), and, the wash-
ing of the labouring classes to come to 2d, a head,
young and old (the expense of the materials, when
the work is done at home, average, it has been
shown, about l^d, for each member of the fiimily),
we shall then have the following statement : —

Annual cost of washing for 800,000

people, at Is. per head per week . dE2,080,000
Annual cost of washing for 1,600,000

people, at 2d, per head per week . 698,333

Total cost of washing of metropolis £2,773,888

I am convinced, low as the estimate of 2d. a
week may appear for all whose incomes are under
150^ a year, from many considerations, that
the above computation is rather over than under
the truth. As, for instance, Mr. Hawes has said
concerning the consumption of soap in the metro-
polis, — " Careful inquiry has proved that the
quantity used is much greater than that indicated
by the Excise returns ; but reducing the results
obtained by inquiry in one uniform proportion,
the quantity used by the labouring classes earning
firom 10s. to 80s. per week is 10 lbs. each per
annum, including every member of the fiunily.
Dividing the population of the metropolis into
three dasses: (1) the WMhhy; (2) the shop-
keepen and tradesmen; (8) labourers and the
poor, and allowing 15 lbs., lOI^s., ar.d 4 lbs. to

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON FOOJt

191

each lespectiTely, the confumption of the metro-
polis will be neariy 200 toni per week." The
coft of each ton of soap Mr. Hawet eitiiaatet
at 45/.

Professor Clarke, however, compntei the metro-
pelitan coDsamptlon of soap at 250 toii& per
week, and the cost per ton at 50/.

According to the above estimates,
the total quantity of soap used every
year in the metropolis is 12,000 tons,
and this, at 50L per ton, comes to . £600,000

Professor Clarke reckons the grosa
consumption of soda in the metropolis,
at 250 tons per month, costing 10/. a
ton ; hence for the year tM con-
Bomption will be 3000 too^ cost-
ing 80,000

The cost ef water, aeeofding to the
SMoe aothority, is Ss. 4<i, per head
per aniwm, and thu, lor tke wfaoU
■wtivpolis, anoonu to 400,000

Estimatinff the'cost of the coals nsed
in heating ue water to be equal to
that of the soap, we have for the
gross expense of fuel annually con-
snmed in washing 600,000

There are 21,000 laundnsses in

London, and, cakwlating that the

WMOS of these average 10s. a week

each all the year roimd, the gross

sum paid to them, woold bo ia

round numbers 550,000

Profit of employers, say ... . 550,000
Add for sundries, as starch, &c. . 50,000

Total cost of washing of metropolis £2,780,000

Hence it would appear, tbit viewed either by
the individual expense of the gnat bnlk of society,
or else by the aggregate cost of the materials and
labour used ia douwing the clothes of the people
of Londen, the total sum ssinoally expended in
the washing of the metropolis may be estimated
at the outside at two millions and three quarters
stnling per annum, or about 1/. Zs. id. per head.

And yet, theugh the data for the calculation
here given, as te the eest and quantity of the
principal matmab used in cleansing the clothes of
London, are derived from the same Report as that
in which the expense of the metropolitan washing
is estanaled at 5,000,000/. per annum, the Board
of Health do not hesitate in that document to say
that,—" Of the fairness of the estimate of the
expense of washing to the higher and middle
chisses, and to the great bulk of tho householders,
and the better class of artisans, we entertain
no doubt whatever. Whatsoever deductions, if
any, may be made from the above estimate, it is.

nevertheless, an under^tstimate for maintaining,
at the present expense of washing, a proper
amount of cleanliness in linen."

Proceeding, however, with tho calenlation ao to
the loss from the imperfect scavenging of the
metropolis, we have the following results :~^

LOSS VBOX DU8T AKD DIBT IH TBM 8TSEXT8 Of
THE XXTBOPOLIS, OWIHO VO THE XZXRA
WAMBOQ HKTAILID THSEEBT.

According to the Board of Health,
taking the yearly amount of the wash-
ing of the metropolis at 5,000,000/.,
and assuming the washing to be
doubled by street-dirt, the kw will be £2,500,000

Calcuhiting the washings kowever,
for reasons above addaced, to bo only
2,750,000/., and to bo as much again
as it might be under an improved
system of scavenging; the loss will bo Ifi75fi0%

Or calcuhitiag, as a minimum, that
the remediable loss is less than one-
half, the cost is £1,000^000

Hence it would appear that die loss from
dust and dirt is recUly enormout.

In a work entitled " Sanatory Progress," behag
the Fifth Report of tho National Phihmthropie
Association, I find a calculation as to tho losses
sustained from dust and dirt upon our clothes.
Owing to the increased wear from daily brushing
to remove the dust, and occasional scraping to
remove the mud, the loss is estimated at from
8/. to 7/. per annum for each vrell-dressed man
and woman, and 1/. for inferioriy-diessed persons,
including their Sunday and holiday clothing.

I inquired of a Westend tailor, who previously
to his establishment in business had himself been
an operatiTe, and had had experience both in
town and country as to the wear of clothes, and I
learned frtmi him the following particulars.

With regard to the clothes of the wealthy
classes, of those who could always command a
carriage in bed weather, there are no means of
judging as to the loss caused by bad seavengery.

My informant, however, obliged me with the
follqvring calculations, the results of his experience.
His trade is what I may describe as a medium
business, between the low slop and the high
fashionable trades. The garments of vhich ho
spoAce were those worn by clerks, shopmen,
students, tradesmen, town-travellers, and others
not engaged in menial or handicraft labour.

Altogether, and after consulting his books rtUr
tive to town and country customers, my informant
thought it might be easy to substantiate the fol-
lowing estimate as rega^s the duration and eost
of clothes in town and ooontry among the clasMS
I have specified.

192

LONDON LABOUR AND TOE LONDON POOR.

TABLE SHOWINQ THB COHPABATIVS COST OF CLOTHES WO&N IN TOWN

AND OOUNTBY.

G«nncnti.

(MIfiiuloost.

Town.

Country.

DUbvaioeor

■ eoiL

Duration.

Annual dott.

DuxBtlon.

Annual cott.

Coat

Waistcoat
Trowien .

£ t. d.
2 10 0
0 15 0
15 0

Tean.
2
2i

£ t. d.
15 0
0 6 0
10 0

Tean.
8
8
2

£ t. d.
0 16 8
0 5 0
0 12 6

£ M. d,

0 8 4
0 10
0 7 6

Total Suit.

4 10 0

2 11 0

1 14 2

0 16 10

Here, then, it appean that the annual outlay
for dothea in town, by the clasiet I haye ipedfied,
la about 21, lis.; while the annual' outlay in the
cwntry for the tame garment! ia' 1^ 14«. 2d, ;
fhe difference of ezpenae being 16«. 10<f. per
annum. I ooniulted another tailor on the mib-
Jaety and his estimate was a trifle abore that of
my informant.

I should remark that the proportion thus adduced
holds, wKaUver be the number qf garmtnU worn
in the year, or in a series of yean* for the calcu-
lation was made not as to indiridnal garments,
but as to the general wear, erinced by the aTerage
outlay, as shown in the tradesman's books, of the
same class of persons in town and country.

In the calculation given in the publication of
the National Philanthropic Association, the loss
on a well-dressed Londoner's clothing, arising from
excessive dust and dirt, is estimated at from 8/.
to 7/. per annum. By the abore table it will
be seen that the clothes which cost 1/. 14s. 2d.
per aiiuum in the cleanliness of a country abode,
cost 2L lis., or, within a fraction, half as much
again, in the uncleanliness of a London atmo-
sphere and roadf. If, therefore, any London in-
habitant, of the classes I have specified, expend
four times 21. \\s. in his clothes yearly, as
many do, or 10^. 4s., he loses ZL 5s. id,, or
6s. Ad. more than the minimum mentioned in
the Report alluded to.

^ Now estimating 21. 10«. as the yearly tailor's
bill among the well-to-do (boys and men), and cal-
culating that one-sixth of the metropolitan popula-
tion (that is, half of the one*third who may be
said to belong to the class having incomes aboTe
150^. a year) spend this sum yearly in clothes, we
have the following statement : —

Aaa&soATK Loss ufoh Clothes wobh xh Lohdoh.

£«.<*.

400,000 persons liying in
London expend in clothing (at
21. 10«. per annum) .... 1,000,000 0 0

400,000 persons living in bet-
ter atmospheres in rural parts,
and with the same stodc of
clothes, expend one-third less,
or 666,666 18 4

Difference 888,833 6 8

It would be pushing the inquiry to exceeding
minuteness were I to enter into calculations as to
the comparatire expense of boots, hats, and ladies'
dresses worn in town and coontir ; suffice it, that
competent persons in each of the Testiary trades
have been seen, and ayerages drawn for.the accounts
of their town and country customers.

All things, then, being duly considered, the fol-
lowing conclusion would seem to be warranted
by the &cts :—

Annual cost of clothes to 800,000 of
the metropolitan ' popubtion (those
belonging to the dais who have in-
comes eiove 1502. per annum) at 4/.
per year each £8,200,000

ibmual cost of clothes to 1,600,000
of the metropolitan population (Uiose
belonging to the cUis who have in-
comes below 150/. per annum), at 1/.
per year each 1,600,000

£4,800,000
Annual cost of the same clothes if
worn in the country 8,600,000

Extra expense annually entailed by
dust and dirt of metropolis . . . £1,200,000
In the above estimate I have included the cost
of wear and tear of linen from extra washing
when worn in London, and this has been stated
on the authority of the Board of Health to be
double that of linen worn in the country.

In connection with this subject I may cite the
following curious calculation, taken from a Parlia-
mentary Report, as to the cost of a working man's
new shirt, comprising four yards of strong calico.
MaUiial. — Cotton at 6d. per lb. d.

li lb., with loss thereupon .... 8*25
Man^facture, — d.

Spinning 2'25

Weaving 8*00

Profit -25 ,

5-50

Bleaching about

13-75
1-25

15-00

Grey (calico) 18*75(i.-f9(2. (making) -U lOK
Bleached . 15d, -f9<f. „ -2s.

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

103

Ai regardf the Iom and damage occanoned by
the injury to hontehold fiirnitare and deeorations,
and to stodu-in-trade, which ia another important
consideration connected with this subject, I find
the following statement in the Report of the Phi-
lanthropic Institution :— " The loss by goods
and furniture is incalculable: shopkeepers lose
from lOL to 150/. a-year by the spoiling of their
goods for sale; dealers in provisions especially,
who cannot expose them without bein^ de-
teriorated in value, from the dust that is in-
cessantly settling upon them. Nor is it much
better with clothiers of all kinds : — Mr. Holmes,
shawl merchant, in Regent-street, has stated that
his losses from road-dust alone exceed 150/.

per annum." " In a communication

with Mr. MiTart, respecting the expenses of mud
and road-dust to him, that gentleman stated that
the rent of the four houses of which his hotel is
composed, was 896/. ; and that he could not (con-
sidering the cost of cleaning and servants) estimate
the expense of repairing the damage done by the
dirt and dust, carried and blown into these houses,
at a less annual sum than that of his rent 1 "

An upholsterer obliged me with the following
calculations, but so many were the materials, and so
different the rates of wear or the liability to injury
in different materials in his trade, that he could
only calculate generally.

The same quality, colour, and pattern of cur^
tains, silk damasks, which he had furnished to a
house in town, and to a country house belonging
to the same gentleman, looked far fresher and
better after fire years' wear in the country than
after three in town. Both windows had a southern
aspect, but the occupant would have his windows
partially open unless the weather was cold, foggy,
or rainy. It was the same, or nearly the same,
he thought, with the carpets on the two places, for
London dust was highly injurious to all the better
qualities of carpets. He was satisfied, also, it was
the same generally in upholstery work subjected
to town dust

I inquired at seTend West-end and city shops,
and of different descriptions of tradesmen, of the
injury done to their shop and shop-window goods
by the dust, but I found none who had made any
calculations on the subject AU, however, agreed
that the duat was an excessive annoyance, and en-
tailed great expense ; a ladies* shoemaker and a
bookseUer expressed this particularly— on the ne-
cesMty of inaking the window a sort of small
glass-house to exclude the dust, which, after all,
was not sufficiently excluded. All thought, or
with but one hesitating exception, that the esti-
mation as to the loss sustained by the Messrs.
Holmes, considering the extent of their premises,
and the richness of the goods displayed in the
windows, &e., was not in excess.

I can, then, but indicate the injury to household
furniture and stock-in-tiade as a corroboration of
all that has been advanced touching the damaging
effSecte of road dirt

Of THX HoBSS-Duvo ov TBI Stbxxts of

LOVDOV.

"Faxiliabitt with streete of crowded traffic
deadens the senses to the perception of their
actual condition. Strangers coming from tiie
country frequently descri^ the streeto of London
as smelling of dung like a stable-yard."

Such is one of the statranafi in a Reportatb-
mitted to Parliament, and thert is no reason fo
doubt the fact Bvery English visitor to a French
dty, for instance, must have detected street^ours
of which the inhabitante were utterly unconscious.
In a work which between 20 and 30 years ago
was deservedly popular, Mathews's " Diary of
an Invalid," it is mentioned that an Bnglish lady
complaining of the villanous rankness of the air
in the first French town she entered — Calais, if I
remember rightly — received the comfortable as-
surance, "It is the smell of the Continent ma'am."
Even in Cologne itself, the " most stinking city
of Europe," aa it has been termed, the dtiseni
are insensible to the foul airs of their streets, and
yet possess great skill in manufacturing perfumed
and distilled waters for the toilet, pluming them^
selves on the delicacy and discrimination of their
nasal organs. What we perceive in other cities,
as strangers, those who yisit London detect in
our streets — that they smell of dung like stable-
yards. It is idle for London denisens, because
they are unconscious of the &ct, to deny the
existence of any such effluvia. I have met virith
nightmen who have told me that there vras
" nothing particular" in the smell of the cesspools
they were emptying ; they ** hardly perceived it"
One man said, " Why, it's like the sort of stuff
I 've smelt in them ladies' smelling-bottles." An
eminent tallow-melter said, in the course of his
evidence before Parliament during a sanitary in-
quiry, that the smell from the tallow-melting on
his premises was not onl^ healthful and reviving
— ^for invalids came to mhale it — ^but agreeable.
I mention these fiwU to meet the scepticism
which the official assertion as to the stable-like
odour of the streeU may, perhaps, provoke.
When, however, I stato the quantity of horse-
dung and " cattle-droppbgs " voided in the
streets, all incredulity, I doubt not, will be re-
moved.

" It has been ascertabed," says the Report of
the National Philanthropic Association, "that
four-fifths of the street-dirt consist of horse and
cattle-droppings."

Let us, therefore, endeavour to arrive at de-
finite notions as to the absolute quantity of thif
element of street^irt

And, first, as to the number of cattle and hones
traversing the streeto of London.

In the course of an inquiry in November,
1850, into Smithfield-mazke^ I adduced the fol-
lowing results as to the number of cattle entering
the metropolis, deriving the information from tha
experience of Mr. Deputy Hicks, confirmed by
returns to Pariiament, by the amount of tolls, and

I' further ratified by ^e opinion of some of tha
most experieneed "live salesmen" and "dead

106

LONDON LABOUR AND TES LONDON POOR,

Iht groM qoantitj of hone-dung dropped throuffh-
ont everj part of London — baci streets and all--
is equal to one-half of that let fiUl in the greatest
London thoroughfiues. According to this esti-
mate, all and vferj of the 24,000 London horMS
must Toid, in the course of the six hours that they
are at work hi the streets, not less than 61 lbs. of
excrement, which is at the rate of rery nearly
2 cwt in the course of the day, or voiding only
49 Ibi. in the twenty-four hours, they must remain
out altogether, and nerer return to the stable for
rest HI

Hr. Cochrane is fiur less hazardous than the
Board of Health, and appears to me to arrive at
his result in a more scientific and condnsiTe
manner. He goes first to the Stamp Office to
ascertain the number of horses in the metropolis,
and then requests the professors of the Veterinary
College to estimate the average quantity of excre-
tions produced by a horse in the course of 24
hours. All this accords with the soundest prin-
ciples of inquiry, and stands out in startling con-
trast with the unphilosophical plan pursued by the
Board of Health, who obtain the result of the
most crowded thoroughfiure, and then halving
this, frame an exaggerated estimate for the whole
of the metropolis.

But Mr. Cochrane himself appears to me to
exceed that just caution which is so necessary in
all statistical calculations. Having ascertained
that a horse voids 49 lbs. of dung in the course of
24 hours, he makes the whole of the 24,214 horses
in the metropolis drop 80 lbs. daily in the streets,
so that, according to his estimate, not only must
every horse in London be out every day, but he
must be nt work in the public thorough&res for
very nearly 15 hours out of the 24 !

The following is the estimate made by Mr.
Cochrane : —

Daily weight of manure deposited in the streets
by 24,214 horses X 80 lbs. » 726,420 lbs.,
or 824 tons, 5 cwt, 100 lbs.

Weekly weight, 2270 tons, 1 cwt., 28 lbs.

Annual weight, 118,048 tons, 5 cwt

Tons or cart-loads deposited annually, valued at
6«. X 118,048 » 85,4122. 19j. 6d,

It has, then, been here shown that, assuming
the number of horses worked daily in the streets
of London to be 20,000, and each to be out
six hours per diem, which, it appears to me,
is all that can be fiiirly reckoned, the quantity
of horse -dung dropped weekly is about 700
tons, so that, including the horses of the cavalry
regiments in London, which of course are not
comprised in the Stamp- Office returns, as well
as the animals taken to Smithfield, we may, per-
haps, assert that the annual ordure let fall in the
London streets amounts, at the outside, to some-
where about 1000 tons weekly, or 52,000 tons
per annum.

The next question becomes — what is done with
this vast amount of filth 1

The Board of Health is a much better guide
upon this point than upon the matter of quantity :
" Much of the horse-dung dropped in the London

streets, under ordinary eurcnmstances," we are told,
" dries and is pnlveroed, and with the common
soil is carried into honset as dust, and dirties
clothes and furniture. The odour arising firom
the surfiMe evaporation of the streets when they
are wet is chirav firom horse-dung. Susceptible
persons often feel this evaporation, afW partial
wetting, to be highly oppressive. The lor&ee-water
di|charged into sewers firom the streets and roofs
of^houses is found to contain as much filth as the
soil-water firom the house-drains.**

Here, then, we perceive that the whole
of the animal manure let fidl in the streets
is worse than wasted, and yet we are assured that
it is an article, which, if properly collected, is of
considerable value. " It is,'' says the Beport ^
the National Philanthrepic Association, *an
article of Agricultural and Horticultural commerce
which has ever maintained a high value with the
fiumers and market^nrdeners, wherever con-
veniently obtainable. When these cattle-droppings
can be collected unmixed, in dry weather, they
bear an acknowledged value by the grasier and
root-ffrower ;— there being no other kind of manurs
which fertilises the lanid so bounteously. Mr.
Mamock, Curator of the Boyal Botanical Society,
has valued them at from 5s. to 10s. per load ; ac-
cording to the season of the year. The United
Paving Board of St GHles and St Qeorge, since
the introduction of the Street Orderly System into
their parishes, has wisely had it collected in a state
separate from all admixture, and sold it aft highly
remunerative prices, rendering it the means of
considerably lessening the expense of cleansing
the streets."

Now, assuming the value of the street-dropped
manure to be 6s. per ton when collected free
from dirt, we have the following statement
as to the value of the horse and cattle-voidancea
let fiill in the streets of London : —
52,000 tons of cattle-droppings,

at 6i. per ton £15,600 0 0

Mr. Cochrane, who considers the quantity of
animal-droppings to be much greater, attaches of
course a greater value to the aggr^te quantity.
His computation is as fi>llow8 : —
118,043 tons of cattle-droppings,

at 6«. per ton £85,412 19 6

It seems to me that the calculations of the
quantity of horse and cattle-dung in the streets,
are based on such well-authenticated and scientific
foundations, that their accuracy can hardly be dis-
puted, unless it be that a higher average might
fairly be shown.

Whatever estimate be adopted, the worth of
street-dropped animal manure, if properly secured
and made properly disposable, is great and indis-
putable; most assuredly between 10,000^ and
20,000/. in value.

Ov Strxxt "Mao" avd othsr Mud.
First of that kind of mud known by ihename
of ♦'mac.*'

The scavengers call mud all that is siwpC from
the granite or wood pavements, in contradistinction

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

197

to " mac," which is both scraped and awept on the
macadamiied roads. The nrnd is usually carted
uart firom the " mac/' but some contractors cause
their men to shovel every kind of dirt they meet
with into the same cart.

The introduction of Mac Adam's system of road-
making into the streets of London called into
existence a new element in what is accounted street
zefuse. Until of late years little attention was
paid to " Mac," for it was considered in no way dis-
tinct from other kinds of street-dirt, nor as being
likely to noasess properties which might adapt it
lor any otoer use than that of a component part
of agricultmral manure.

" Mac " is found principally on the roads from
which it derives its name, and is, indeed, the
grinding and pounding of the imbedded pieces of
granite, which are the staple of those roads. It
If, perhaps, the most adhesive street-dirt known,
M respects the London specimen of it; for the
exceeding traffic works and kneads it into a paste
which it is difficult to remove from the texture of
any garment splashed or soiled with it

" Mae * is carted away by the scavengers in great
fjoantities, being shovelled, in a state of more or
less fluidity or solidity, according to the weather,
from the road-side into their carts. Quantities
are also swept with the rain into the drains of
the streets, and not unfrequently quantities are
found deposited in the sewers.

The following passage from "Sanatory Pro-
gTMS^" a work before alluded to, cites the opinion
of Lotd Oongleton as to the necessity of con-
tinually removing the mud from roads. I may
add that Lord Congleton*sworkon road-making is of
high anthority, and has frequently been appealed
to in parliamentary discussions, inquiries, and
reporta on the subject.

''Tho late Lord Congleton (Sir Henry Par-
ndl) stated before a Committee of the House of
Cmnmons, in June, 1888, 'a road should be
deansed from time to time, so as never to have
hstf an inch of mud upon it ; and this is particuhirly
neeesHiy to be attended to where the materials
■re wiok; for, if the surfifioe be not kept clean, so
M to admit of its becoming dry in the intervals
between showers of rain, it will be rapidly worn
away.' How truly," adds the Report, "is his
Loraship's opinion verified every day on the mac-
adamiied roads in and around London } * • •
* * * The horse-manure and other filth are
them allowed to accumulate, and to be carried
about by the horses and carriage-wheels ; the
load if formed into cavities and mud-hollows,
whidi, being wetted by the rain and the con-
•tantly plying wUerinff-carts, retain the same.
Thna, not only are vast quantities of offensive
■rad finmed, but puddles and pooU qf water also ;
whidi water, not being allowed to run off to the
lido gutter, by declivity, owing to the mtid em-
hoMimenU which surround it, naturally pereolaiet
ikroMgh the turface qf the road, diteolving and
looeening the »nft earthy matrix by which the
broken granite is surrounded and fixed."

The quantity of ** mac " produced is the next
connderation, and in endeavouring to ascertain this

there are no specific data, though there are what,
under other circumstances, might be called circum-
stantial or inferential evidence.

I have shown both the length )f the streets
and roads and the proportion which might be
pronounced macadamized ways in the Metropolis
Proper. But as in the macadamized proportion
many thoroughfares cannot be strictly considered
as yielding " mac," I will assume that the roads
and streets producing this kind of dirt, more or less
fully, are 1200 miles in length.

On the busier macadamized roads in the vicinity
of what may be called the interior of London, it ii
common, I was told by experienced men, in average
weather* to collect daily two cart-loads of what is
called mac, from every mile of road. The mass of
such road-produce, however, is mixed, though the
"mac" unquestionably predominates. It was
described to me as mac, general dirt, and drop-
pings, more than the half being " mac." In wet
weather there is at least twenty times more "mac"
than dung scavenged; but in dry weather the
dung and other street-refrue constitute, perhaps,
somewhat less than three-fourths of each cart-
load. The "mac" in dry weather is derived
chiefly from the fluid from the watering carts
mixing vrith the dust, and so forming a paste
capable of being removed by the scraper of the
scavenger.

It may be fair to assume that every mile of the
roads in question, some of them being of consider-
able width, yields at least one cart-load of " mac,"
as a daily average, Sunday of course excepted. An
intelligent man, who had the management of the
" mac" and other street collections ma contractor's
wharf, told me that in a load of " mac " carted from
the road to any place of deposit, there was (I now
use his own words) "a good deal of water; for
there 's great difference," he added, " in the tttf-
ne*$ of the "mac" on different roads, that seem very
much the same to look at. But that don't signify
a halfpenny-piece," he said, "for if the 'mac' is
wanted for any purpose, and let be for a little
time, you see, sir, the water will dry up, and leave
the proper stuff I haven 't any doubt whatever that
two iMds a mile are collected in the way you Ve
been told, and that a load and a quarter of the
two is ' nuic,' though after the water is dried up out
of it there mightn't be much more than a load.
So if you want to calcukte what the quantity of
' mac ' is by itself, I think you had best say one
load a mile."

But it is only in the more frequented ap-
proaches to the City or the West-end, such as the
Knightsbridge-road, the New-road, the Old Kent-
road, and thoroughfiguvs of similar character as re-
gards the extent of traffic, that two loads of refuse
are daily collected. On the more distant roads,
beyond the bounds traversed by the omnibuses
for instance, or beyond the roads resorted to by
the market gardeners on their way to the metro-
politan " green " markets, the supply of street-re-
fuse is hardljra quarter as great ; one man thought
it was a thml, and another only a sixth of a load
a day in quiet places.

Calculating Uien, in order to be within the mark.

198

LONJX>N LABOUR AND THS LONDON POOR.

thAt the macadamiMd roadi afford daily two
loadi of dirt per mile, and reckoning the great
nmcadamized streets at 100 niilea in leng^ we
have ^ following resulu : —

QUAKTITT OF BTBUT-RirVSB OOLLROTEP VBOM
TBM MOBB VUKQUIHTE]) MAOADAMIUO) TbO-

Loadt.

100 miles, 2 loads per day ... 200
„ Weekly amount . . . 1,200
„ Yearly amount . . . 62,400

PaopoBTXOv <w "Mac" ik the adote.
100 miles, 1 load per day .... 100

„ Weekly 600

„ Yearly 81,200

To this amount must be added th? quantity
supplied by the more distant and less frequented
roads situate within the precincts of the Metro-
polis Proper. These I will estimate at one-eighth
less than that of the roads Of greater traffic.
Some of the more quiet thorough fiires, I should
add, are not scavenged more than once a week,
and some less frequently; but on some there is
considerable traffic.

QuAKTITT OF SlBSKT-EXFOBS <!OLX.ECI£D FBOK
IBS LESS FBEQUSNTSD JUOAAAMIUD ThO-
2UU0BFA&E8.

1100 miles, \ load per day . . . 275

„ Weekly 1,650

„ Yearly 86,800

The pnypoction of mnc to the gross dirt col-
h*cted is greater in the more distant roads than
what I have already described, but to be kS» J
will adopt the same ratio.

Proportion of *' Mac."

Loads.

1100 miles of rood, j^ load per day . 187

„ Weekly ... 825

„ Yearly . . . 42,900

Yearly Total of the Gross Quaittitt of
Strrbt-Refitse, with the Proportionate
Quantity of " Mac " collected prom the
macadamized tnorocg ii fares of the me-
tropolis.

100 miles of macadamized

roods

1100 miles ditto ditto

Street
Refuse.

Cart-loads.

62,400
85,800

148,200

Loads.

81,200
42,900

74,100

Thus upwards of 74,000 cart-loads of "mac"
are, at a low computation, annua&lly scraped and
swept from the metropolitan thoroughfares.

So £ir as to the fKoji^y of " jbm ** collected,
and now as to its umi.

'"Ma<;' or MacadavL,"* jays Ma of Jfc
Cochzanc's Bcfxu'ts, "is « gsand piiM to tlie
scavenging contractor, who finds ready vend and
a high juioe lor it among the -bnildofs And book-

maketi. Those who paid for the road— and
their surveyors, j^osn^y-^mow nothing of its
value, or of their own loss by its removal from
the road ; they eonsider it in the light of dirt —
ofetuive dirt — and are glad to pajf the scavenger
for carrying it away! When the hivcm comas,
the scavenger's men take care to go deep enough ;
and many of them are, moreover, instructed to
keep the 'mac' as tree firam admlalore with
foreign anbstanoes as possible ; for, though cattle-
dung be valuable enough in itself the ' mac' loses
its value to the builder and brickmaker by being
Mixed with it. Indeed, lx»th are valuable fur
their respective uses if kept separate, net other-
wise."

On my first making inquines as to the uses and
value of " mac," I was frequently told that it was
utterly valueless, and that great trouble and ex-
pense were incurred in merely getting rid of it.
That this is the case with many contractors i«,
doubtleuly, the fsct ; for now, nnless the " mac,"
or, rather, the general load-dizt, be eidered, or a
market for it be assured, it mnat be got rid of
without a remuneration. Even when the con-
tractor can shoot the "mac" in his own yard, and
keep it there fur a eostomei; there is the cost of
re-loading and re-carting; a cost which a customer
requiring to use it at anj distance may not choose
to incur. Great qoantities of "mac," therefore, are
wasted ; and more would be wasted, were there
places to waste it in.

Let me, therefore, before speaking of tke uses
and sale of it, point oat some of the iukwu for
this wasting of the "mac" with other stceei-dirt In
the first place, the weight of a cart-load of street-
refuse of any kind is usually estimated at a ton ;
but I am assured that the weight of a cart-load
of " stiff mac " is a ton and a quarter at the least;
and this weight becomes so trying te a scavenger's
horse, as the day's work advances, that the con-
tractor, to spare the animal, is often glad to get
rid of the "mac" in any manner and without any
remuneration. Thousands of loads of " mac," or
rather of mixed street-dirt, have for this, and
other reasons, been thrown away ; and no snuili
quantity has been thrown down the gulley-holes,
to find its way into that main metropolitan sewer,
the Thames. Of this matter, however, I shall
have to speak hereafter.

There is no doubt that it is common for con-
tractors to represent the "mac" they collect as
being utterly valueless, and indeed an incum-
brance. The " mixed mac," as I have said, may
be to. Some contractors urge, especially in their
bargains with the parish bosurd, that all kinds of
street dirt are not only worthlesij, but expensive
to be got rid of. Five or six y^rs ago, this was
urged very stienuously, for then there was what
was accounted a oombination among the con-
tractors. The south-west district of St. Pancras,
until within the last six years, received bom the
contractor for the piiblic soavengery, lOOZ. for the
year's aggregation of street and bouse dirt. Since
then, however, they have had to pay him 50QL
for removing it.

JWotwithataading Iha JwlnBtanwi of some of the

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR,

199

contractors to give information on this, or indeed
any subject connected with their trade, I have
ascertained from indubitable authority, that "mac*'
is disposed of in the following manner. Some,
but this is mostly the mixed kind, is got rid of
in any manner; it has even been diluted with
water so as to be driven down the drains. Some
is mixed with the general street ordure — about a
quarter of " mac," I was told, to three-quarters of
dung and street mud — and shipped off in barges
as manure. Some is given to builders, when they
require it for the foundations of any edifices that
are " handy,*' or rather it is carted thither for a
nominal price, such as a trifle as beer-money for
the men. Some, however, is told for the same
purpose, the contractors alleging that the charge
is merely for cartage. Some, again, is given awaj
or sold (with the like allegation) for purposes of
levelling, of filling up cavities, or repairing nn-
evennesses in any ground where improvements are
being carried on; and, finally, some is sold to
masons, plasterers, and brickmakers, for the pur-
poses of their trade.

Even for such purposes as " filling up,** there
must be in the " mixed mac " supplied, at least a
considerable preponderance of the pure material,
or there would not be, as I heard it expressed, a
sufficient *' setting" for what was required.

As a set-off to what is sold, however, I may
here state that 30^. has been paid for the privilege
of depositing a barge-load of mixed street dirt in
Battenea- fields, merely to get rid of it.

The principal use of the unmixed "mac" is as a
component part of the mortar, or lime, of the
mason in the exterior, and of the plasterer in the
interior, construction of buildings, and as an in-
gredient of the mill in brick-grounds.

The accounts I received of the properties of
"mac" from the vendors of it, were very con-
tradictory. One man, until lately connected with
its sale, informed me that as far as his own ex-
perience extended, "mac" Wcos most in demand
among s&imping builders, and slop brickmakers,
who looked only to what was cheap. To a
notorious " scamper," he one morning sent three
cart-loads of " mac " at Is. a load, all to be used in
the erection of the skeleton of one not very large
house; and he believed that when it was used
instead of sand with lime, it was for inferior work
only, and was mixed, either for masons' or plaster-
ers* work, with bad, low-priced mortar. Another
man, with equal knowledge of the trade, however,
represented " mac" as a most valuable article for
the builder's purposes, it was " so binding" and this
he repeated emphatically. A working builder
told me that "mac " was as good as the best sand;
it made the mortar " hang," and without either
that or sand, the lime would '* brittle " away.

" Mac" may be said to be composed of pulverised
granite and rain water. Granite is composed of
quartz, felspar, and n)ica, each in granular crys-
tals. Hence, alumina being clay, and silex a sub-
stance which has a strong tendency to enter into com-
bination with the lime of the mortar, the pulverizing
of granite tends to produce a substance which has
necessarily great binding and indurating properties.

From this reduction of " mac " to its elements,
it is manifest that it possesses qualities highly
valuable in promoting the cohesive property of
mortar, so that, were greater attention paid to its
collection by the sciivenger, there would, in all
probability, be an improved demand for the article,
for I find that it is already used in the prosecution
of some of the best masons* work. On this head
I can cite the authority of a gentleman, at once a
scientific and practical architect, who said to
me, —

" ' Mac' is used by many respectable builders for
making mortar. The objection to it is, that it
usually contains much extraneous decaying mat-
ter."

Increased care in the collection of the material
would, perhaps, remove this cause of complaint

I heard of one \Yest-end builder, employing
many hands, however, who bad totally or partially
discontinued the use of " mac," as he had met with
some which he considered showed itself bnttU in
the plastering of walls.

" Mac," is pounded, and sometimes sifted, w^hen
required for use, and is then mixed and " worked
up" with the lime for mortar, in the same way as
sand. By the brickmakers it is mixed with the
clay, ground, and formed into bricks in a similar
manner.

Of the proportion sold to builders, plasterers,
and brickmakers, severally, I could learn no pre-
cise particulars. The general opinion appears to
be, that " mac" is sold most to brickmakers, and that
it would find even a greater sale with them, were
not brick-fields becoming more and more remote.
I moreover found it universally admitted, that
"mac" was in less demand — some said by one-
half — than it was five or six years back.

Such are the uses of "mac," and we now come to
the question of its value.

The price of the purer " mac " seems, from the
best information I can procure, to have varied con-
siderably. It is now generally cheap. I did not
hear any very sufficing reason advanced to account
for the depreciation, but one of the contractors ex-
pressed an opinion that this was owing to the
" disturbed" state of the trade. Since the passing
of the SaniUiry Bill, the contractors for the public
scavengery have been prevented " shooting " any
valueless street-dirt, or dirt "not worth carriage"
in convenient waste-places, as they were once in
the habit of doing. Their yards and wharfs are
generally full, so that, to avoid con.mitting a
nuisance, the contractor will nnt unfrcquently
sell his "mac" at reduced rates, and be glad thus to

get rid of it. To this cause especially Mr. -

attributed the deterioration in the price of " mac,"
but if he had convenience, he told me, and any
change was made in the present arrangements, he
would not scruple to store lOOO loads for the de-
mands of next summer, as a speculation. I am of
opinion, moreover, notwithstanding what seemed
something very like unanimity of opinion on the
part of the sellers of " mac," that what is given
or thrown away is usually, if not always, inixal
orinferior "mac," and that what is sold at the

No. XXXVIII.

200

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

lowest rate is only a degree or two better ; nnlcss,
indeed, it be under the immediate pressure of some
of the circumstances I have pointed out, as want
of room, &c.

On inquiring the price of " mac," I believe the
answer of a vendor will almost invariably be
found to be "a shilling a load;*' a little further in-
quiry, however, shows that an extra sum may have
to be p<iid. A builder, who gave me the inform-
ation, nsked a parish contractor the price of " mac."
The contractor at once offered to supply him with
500 loads at \s, a load, if the "mac" were ordered
beforehand, and could be shot at once; but it
would be 6(2. a mile extra if delivered a mile out
of the mac-Beller*s parish circuit, or more than a
mile from his yard ; while, if extra care were to
be taken in the collection of the "mac," it would be
2d., Zd., id,, or 6d. a load higher. This, it must
be understood, was the price of " v>ei mac."

Good ** dry mac," that is to say, "mac" ready
for use, is sold to the builder or the brick-
maker at from 2s, to 3«. the load ; 2s. Qd., or
something very near it, being now about an
average price. It is dried in the contractor's yard
by being exposed to the sun, or it is sometimes
protected from the weather by a shed, while being
dried. More wet "mac" would be shot for the
trade, and kept until dry, but for want of room in
the contractors' yards and wharfs ; for "mac" must
give way to the more valuable dung, and the dust
and ashes from the bins. The best "mac "is some-
times described ns " country mac," that is to say,
it is collected from those suburban roads where it
is likely to be little mixed with dung, &c.

A contractor told me that during the last
twelve months he hnd sold 300 lo.ads of " mac ; "
he had no account of what he had jjiven away,
to be rid of it, or of what he had sold at nominal
prices. Another contractor, I was told by his
managing man, sold lust year about 400 loads.
But both these parties are " in a large way,"
and do not supply the data upon which to found
a calculation as to an average yearly sale; for
though in the metropolis there arc, according to
the list I have given in p. 167 of the present
volume, 03 contmcts, for cleansing the metro-
polis, without including the more remote suburbs,
such as Greenwich, Lewish.ini, Tooting, Streathnm,
Ealing, Brentford, and others — still some of the
districts contracted for yield no " nnc " at all.

From what I consider good authority, I may
venture upon the following moderate computation
as to the quantity of " mac " sold last year.

Estimating the number of contracts for cleansing
the more central parishes ut 35, and adding 20
for all the outlying parishes of the metropolis —
in some of which the supply of road "mac" is very
fine, and by no means scarce- -it may be accurate
enough to suite that, out of the 55 individual con-
tracts, 300 loads of " mac " were sold by each in
the course of last year. This gives lt),500 loads
of "mac" disposed of per annum. It may, moreover,
be a reasonable estimate toconsidcrtiiis "mac," wet
and dry together, as fetching Is. Gd. a load, so that
we have for the sum realized the Ibllowing
result : —

16,500 loads of "mac," at 1*. Sd.
per load .£1237 10

It may probably be considered by the con-
tractors that Is. 6d. is too higb an average of price
per load : if the price be minimized the result
will be —

16,500 loads of "mac," at 1*. per
load £825

Then if we divide the first estimate among the
55 contractors, we find that they receive upwards
of 22/. each; the second estimate gives nearly
15/. each.

I repeat, that in this inquiry I can but approxi-
mate. One gentleman told me he thought the
quantity of " mac" thus sold in the year was twice
1600 loads ; another asserted that it was not 1000.
I am assured, however, that my calculation does
not exceed the truth.

I have given the full quantity of "mac,** as nearly,
I believe, as it can be computed, to be yielded by the
metropolitan thoroughfares ; the surplusage, after
deducting the 1600 loads sold, must be reg^cd as
consisting of mixed, and therefore useless, " mac ; "
that is to say, " mac " rendered so thin by continuous
wet weather, that it is little worth ; " mac " wasted
because it is not storeable in the contractor's
yard ; nnd " mac " used as a component part of a
baige-load of manure.

In the course of my inquiries I heard it very
generally stated that until five or six years ago
2s, 6d. might be considered a regular price for a
load of " mac," while is., 5s., or even 6*. h»ve been
paid to one contractor, according to his own ac-
count, for the better kind of this commodity.

Of the Mud of the Streets.
The dirt yielded by a macadamized road, no
matter what the composition, is always termed
by the scavengers "mac;'* what is yielded by a
granite-paved way is always " mud.'' Mixed mud
and " mac " are generally looked upon as useless.

I inquired of one man, connected with a con-
tractor's wharf, if he could readily distinguish the
difference between "mac" and other street or
mixed dirts, and he told me that he could do so,
more especially when the stuff was sufficiently
dried or spt, at a glance. " If mac was darker,"
he said, "it always looked brighter than other
street-dirts, as if all the colour was not ground
out of the stone." He pointed out the different
kinds, and his definition seemed to me not a bad
one, although it may require a practised eye to
make the distinction readily.

Street-mud is only partially mud, for mud is
earthy particles saturated with water, and in the
composition of the scavenger's street-mud arc
dung, general refuse (such as straw and vegetable
remains), and the many things which in poor
neighbourhoods are still thrown upf)n the pave-
ment.

In the busier thoroujrhfarcs of the metropolis —
apart from the City, where there is no macnnani-
ization requiring notice — it is almost impossible to
keep street "mac" and mud distinct, even if the
scaveniieri cared more to do so than is the case at
present ; for a waggon, or any other vehicle, en-

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

201

tering a Btreet paved with blocks of wrought granite
from a macadamized rond must convey *'muc"
amongst mud; both "mac" and mud, however, as
I bare stated, are the most valuable separately.

In a Report on the Supply of Water, Appendix
No. III., Mr. Holland, Upper Stamford-street,
Waterloo-road, is stated to have said, in reply to
a question on the subject : — *' Suppose the in-
habitants of one parish are desirous of having
their streets in good order and clean : unless the
adjoining districts concur, a great and unjust ex-
pense is imposed upon the cleaner parish ; because
every vehicle which passes from a dirty on to a
clean street carries dirt from the former to the
latter, and renders cleanliness more difficult and
expensive. The inhabitants of London have an
interest in the condition of other streets besides
those of their own parish. Besides the inhabit-
ants of Regent-street, for instance, all the riders
in the 5000 vehicles that daily pass through that
great thoroughfare are affected by its condition ;
and the inhabitants of Regent-street, who have to
bear the cost of keeping that street in good repair
and well cleansed, /or oUier»' henfjli as iceil as for
t/ieir oirn, may fairly feel aggrieved if they do
not experience, the benefits of good and clean
streets when they go into other districts."

In the admixture of street-dirt there is this
material difference — the dung, which spoils good
** mac," makes good mud more valuable.

After having treated so fully of the road-pro-
duce of "mac," there seems no necessity to say more
about mud than to consider its quantity, its value,
and its uses.

In the Haymarkct. which is about an eighth of
a mile in length, and 18 yards in width, a load
and a half of street-mud is collected daily (Sun-
days excepted), take the year through. As a
farmer or market-gnrdener will give 3«. a load for
common street-mud, and cart it away at his own
cost, we find that were all this mud sold sepa-
rately, at the ordinary rate, the yearly receipt
for one street alone would be 70/. is. This
public way, however, furnishes no criterion of the
general mud-produce of the metropolis. We must,
therefore, adopt some other basis for a calculation ;
and I have mentioned the Uayniarket merely to
show the great extent of street-dirt accruing in a
largely-frequented locality.

But to obtain other data is a matter of no small
difficulty where returns are not published nor even
kept, I have, however, been fortunate enough to
obtain the assistance of gentlemen whose public
employment has given them the best means of
forming an accurate opinion.

The street mud firom the Haymarket, it has
been positively ascertained, is 1 ^ load each wet day
the year through. Fleet-street, Ludgate-hill, Cheap-
side, Newgate-street, the '* off" parts of St. Paul's
Church-yard, Comhill, Lcadenhall-street, Bishops-
gate-Btreet, the free bridges, with many other
places where locomotion never ceases, are, in pro-
portion to their width, as productive of street mud
as the Haymarket.

Were the Haymarket a mile in length, it would
supply, at its present rate of traffic, to the scaven-

' ger 6 loads of street mud daily, or 36 loads for the
I hcavengcr's working week. In this yield, how-
ever, I am assured by practical men, the Hay-
market is six times in excess of the average streets ;
and when compared with even " great business"
thoroughfares, of a narrow chanicter, such as
Watling-street, Bow-lane, Old-change, and other
thoroughfares ofif Cheapside and Comhill, the
produce of the Haymarket is from 10 to 40 per
cent in excess.

I am assured, however, and especially by a
gentleman who had looked closely into the matter
— as he at one time had been engaged in preparing
estimates for a projected company purposing to
deal with street-manures — that the 50 miles of
the City may be safely calculated as yielding
daily 1^ load of street mud per mile. Narrow
streets — Thames-street for instance, which is
about three-quarters of a mile long— yield from 2.^
to 8.^ loads daily, according to the season ; but a
number of off-streets and open places, such as Long-
alley, Alderman's-walk, America-square. Monu-
ment-yard, Bridgewater-square, Austin-friars, and
the like, are either streets without horse- thorough-
fares, or are seldom traversed by vehicles. If, then,
we calculate that there are 100 miles of paved streets
adjoining the City, and yielding the same quantity
of street mud daily as the above estimate, and
200 more miles in the less central parts of the
metropolis, yielding only half that quantity, wc
find the following daily sum during the wet sea-
son : —

Loads.

150 miles of paved streets, yielding 1.^
load of street mud per mile .... 225

200 miles of paved streets, yielding ]
load of street mud per mile .... 150

Weekly amount of street mud during

the wet season

Total ditto for six months in the year

875

2,250

58,500

63,000 loads of street mud, at 3s. per
load £8776

The great sale for this mud, perhaps nine-
teen-twentieths, is from the barges. A barge
of street-manure, about one-fourth (more or
less) "mac," or rather "mac" mixed with its street
proportion of dung, &c., and three-fourths mud,
dung, &c., contains from 30 to 40 tons, or as
many loads. These manure barges arc often to
be seen on the Thames, but nearly three-fourths
of them are found on the canals, especially the
Faddington, the Regent's, and the Surrey, these
being the most immediately connected with the
interior part of the metropolis. A barge-load of
this mnnurc is usually sold at from 51. to 61.
Calculating its average weight at 35 tons, and its
average sale at 5/. 10^., the price is rather more
than '6s. a load. "Common street mud," I have
been informed on good authority, " fetches 3s. per
load from the farmer, when he himself carts it
away.'*

The price of the bargc-Ioad of manure is tolera-
bly uniform, for the quality is generally the same.

203

LONDOy LADOUR AND THE LOXDOX POOR.

Some of the bi^st, becanse the cleaneit, itreet mud i
— ns it is mixed only with horse-dung — is ob- i
tained from the wood streets, but this mode of '
pavement is so circiims^cribcd that the contractors
pay no rcgani to its manure ]>roduce, as a general
rule, and mix it carelessly with the rest. Such,
at leaiit, i^i the account they themselves give, and
they generally represent that the street manure
is, owing to the outlay for cartage and boatage,
little remunerative to them at the prices they
obtain ; notwithstanding, they are paid to remove
it from the stre*ts. Indci-d, I heard of one con-
tractor who was said to Ih' bo dissatistied with the
demand for, and the prices fetched by, his street-
manure, that he has rented a few acres not fur
from the Kegent's Canal, to tent the efticacy of
street dirt as a fertilizer, and to ascertain if to cul-
tivate might not be more ])roii table than to sell.

Of thb Scrface- Water op the Streets
or London.

Tus consideration of what Profesior Way haa
called the " street waters " of the metropolis, is
one of as great moment as any of those I have
previously treated in my details concerning street
refuse, whether " mac," mud, or dung. Indeed,
water enters largely into the composition of the
two former substances, while even the street
dung is greatly affected by the rain.

Tiie i\(dcrs of t'lie street, as regards the street
Kurface- water, are principally the rains. I will
Jirst consider the amount of surface-water supplied
by the rain desc<*nding tipon the area of the
metropolis: upon the roofs of the houses, and
the pavement of the streets and ronds.

The depth of rain fsilling in London in the
different months, according to the observations
and calculations of the most eminent meteorolo-
gists, is as follows : - -

^_,

Dei

•thofR.iin 1

,1)

^

indii'd

o

^^ ■

>•

-^

"1

Montlis.

Ifi:

^oi

&cS

^^

'Sc

til

= ** i

^■■s ,

II

n

= Sc

ficg

^•Zi

^.%

January ....

!•:•« 1

linr;

1-4H3

14-4

Fi'hriiary . .

1-4.1

HM.!

o-74ti

Winter.

15-lJ

Maroh

IWil

1-.M2

1-440

iwiy

12-7

.April

I-.W

1-719

i-7aK

14-0

M»y

l-(.7

2a'«

l-«al

Spring?.

l.V»

June

1-W

\<My\

Vim

4-H13

11-H

.rulv

2-44

2-W«

2-.Mfi

1«-1

August

237

2134

1-4.-13

Summer.

1«M

Sip: ember .

2-!>7

1-C44

2-1 M

(J-«fc>

' 12-3

OctolK-r

ii-Afi

2-«72

2-073

, if;2

November .

I'-SH

2-JJ37

2-4JH>

Autumn.

' 1.V0

DotenilKT .

1M»

2*4«9

2-4iK;

7-441

' 17-7

Tntals

24(»4 :

2 VI 711

_22;l!l!|_

24-fMM

17{)'I

of 28 years 0797-1819), as much as 25-179
inches. Mr. Daniel says that the average annual
fall is 28^j inches. The mean of the obser^-a-
tions made at Greenwich between the years 1838
and 1849 was 24*84 inches.

The following extract from an account of the
" Soft Water Springs of the Surrey Sands," by
the Hon. Wm. Kapivr, is interesting'.

" The amount of rainfall," says the Author,
" is taken from a register kept at the Koyal
Military College, Sandhurst, from the vcar 1818
to 1846.

" The avemge fall of the last 15 years, during
which time the register appears to have been
correctly kept, is 2*2 'G4 inches. I consider thif
to be a very low estimate, however, of the
average rainfall over the whole district. The fall
on the ranges of the Ilindhead must considerably
exceed this amomit. for I find in White's ' Sel-
bome,' a register f-r ten years at that ])lace;
the greatest fall being in 17S2, 60*2C inches, the
lowest, in 1788, 22i)() inches, and the avemge of
all 87-58 inches. The elevation of the Hindhcad
is about 800 feet above mean tide.

" With reference to the measurement of rain-
fall, it is difficult indeed to obtain more than n
very approximate idea for a given district of not
>*ery great extent ; the method of measurement is
so uncertain, as liable to be alFected by ctirrenU
of air and evaporation. It is well known that
elevated regions attract by condensation more
I rain than low lands, and yet a rain-gauge placed
! on the ground will register a greater fall than

■ one placed immediately, and even at a small

■ height, above it.

I •• M. A rag') has shown from 12 years' observa-
I tions at Vrvn^, that the average depth of rain on
! the terrace of the Observatory was 19 88 inches,
j while 30 y.-irds lower it was 22*21 inches. Pr.
I Heberden has shown the rainfcill on the top of
I Westminster Catl'.edral, during a certain period to
I be only 12-0l> inches, and at a lower level on the
I top of a house in the neighbourhood to be 22*Gi>S
I inches. This fact has been observed all over the
' world, and I can only account for it as arising

partly from the greater amount of condensation the
\ nearer the earth's surface, but probably aUo from

currents of air depriving a rain-gauge at a high

elevation of its fair share."

The results of the above observations, as to the

yearly qur^ntity of rain falling in the metrojwlis,

may be summed up as follows : —

Royal Society (average of 20 years)
Mr. Howard (average of 23 years) .
Professor Daniell ...
Dr. lleberden . . . ,

Indies of
Rain falling

Annually.
2404
2.rl70
22-U)9
22-008

The itiinfall in London, according to a ten
years* uveratic of the Royal Society's obsfrvations,
amounts to 23 inches : in 1848 it was as high as
28 inches, and in 1847 as low as 15 inches. The
depth of rain annually falling near London is
stated by Mr. Luke Howard to be, on an average

Mean

23-506

The " mean mcnn," or average *of all the
averages here given is within a fraction the
average of the Royal Society's Observations for
10 years, and this is the quantity that I shall

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR,

adopt in mj calculations as to the gross volume
of niin falling over the entire area of London.

I have shown, by a detiil of the respective
districts in the Registrar General's department,
that the metropolis cjntaini 74,070 statute acres.
Every square inch of thi* extent, as garden,
arable, or pasture ground, or as raal or street,
or wast«; place, or house, or inclosed yard or lawn,
of course receives its modicum of rain. Each
acre comprises 6,272,G40 square inches, and we
thus l:iid th^ whole metropoliian area to contain
a number of square inches, almost beyond the
terms of popular arithmetic, and best expressible
in ligures.

Area of m3troDolis in s(]uare inches,
464.014,444,800. Now, multiplyinar these four
liundred and sixty four thousand, six hundred and
fourteen millions, four hundred and forty-four
thousand, eight hundred square inches, by 23,
the number of inches of rain falling every year
iu London, we have the following result : —

Total quantity of rain falling yearly in the me-
tropolis, 10,GS6, 132,230,4 00 cubic inches.

Then, as a fnu:tion more than 277| cubic
inches of water represent a weight of 10 lbs.,
and an ai measurement of a gallon, we have the
following further results : —

Weight in pounds
and touR.

Yearly Riiia- ) 'JS5,3irj.7Jl ,'22i) lbs.,
fall in the I'! or

Metropolis ) | 172,ii53,447 tons.

AdiDcaiiiremcnt
in gnllonft.

'JS,5aO,fl7'2,l22 gAli,

The total quantity of water mechanically sup-
plied every day to the metropolis is siiid to be in
round numbers 55,000,000 gallons, the amount
being made up in the following manner : —

Daily MEcnAKiCAL Supply of Water to
Metropolis.

Sources of Supply.
New River .
Enst London
Chelsea

West Middlesex .
Grand Junction
Lambeth

Average No. of
(i.illon« )ier day.
. 14,149,315
. 8.829.462
. 3,J)4 0,730
. 3,334,054
. 3,532,013
3,077,260

Southwark and Vauxhall 6 313,716
Kent .... 1.079,311
Hampstead . . . 427,463

Total fr^m Companies 44,333,329

Artesian Wells . . 8,(>00.000

L-uid Spring Pumps . 3,000,000

Total daily . . 55,353,329

TSARLY MSCHAKICAL SUPPLY OP WaTEK.

Fr.im Companies . . ] 6,200,000,000 gals.
„ Artesian Wells . 1,920.000,000 „
„ Land Spring Pumps. 1,095,000,000 „

Total yearly . . 19,215,000,000 „

Hence it would appear that the rain falling in
London in the coarse of the year is r<tUier mort

than double Oiatof tlie ent'tn QuanUti/ of water an.'
nuaUif iuppUed to Hi; iintropofis hif mechanical
Meanitf the rain-water being to the other as 2'005
to lOoO.

Now, in order to ascertain what proportion of
the entire volume of riin comes under the deno-
mination of street surface-wntcr, we must first
deduct from the gross quantity falling the amount
said to be caught, and which, in contradistinction
to that mechanically supplisd to the houses of the
metropolis is termed, *' catch." This is estimated
at 1,000,000 gallons per diem, or 365,000,000
gallons yearly.

But we mnst also subtract from the gross quan-
tity of ruin-water that which f«ills on the roofs as
well as on the " back premises " and yards of
houses, and is carried olT directly to the drains
without appearing in the streets. This must be a
considerable proportion of the whole, since the
streets themselves, allowing them to be ten yards
wide on an average, would seem to occupy only
abjut one-tenth part of the entire metropolitan
area, so that the rain falling divvctlf/ upon the pub-
lic thorou;rh fires will be but a tithe of the aggre-
gate quantity. But the surface-water of the
streets is increased largely by tributary shoots
from courts and drainless houses, and hence we
may fairly assume the naiaral supply to be
doubled by such means. At this rate the volume
of rain-water annually poured into and upon the
metropolitm thoroughfares by niitural means, will
be bi^tween five and six thousand millions of
gallons, or one hundre.l times the quantity that is
daily supplied to the h^uws of the metropolis by
mechanical agency.

Still only a pnrt of this quintity ft)>pear8 in the
form of surface-water, for a considerable portion of
it is absorbed by the ground on which it falls —
especially in dry weather -serving eiUier to *' lay
the dust," or to convert it into mud. Due regard,
therefore, being had to nil thos..* considerations,
we cannot, CDUsistently with that caution which is
liccessary in all statistical inquiries, estimate the sur-
face-water of the London streets at more than one
thousand millions of gallons per annum, or twenty
times the daily mechanical supply to the houses
of the entire metropolis, and which it has been
a^iserted is suflicient to exhaust a lake covering the
area of St. James's-|tark, 30 inches in depth.

The quantity of water annually poured upon the
streets in the process of what i* termed " watering "
amounts, according to the returns of the Board of
Health, to 275,000,000 gallons per annum ! But
as this seldom or never assumes the for.n of street
surface-water, it need form no part of the present
cstinriie.

What proportion of the thousand million gallons
of "slop dirt'' produced annually in the London
streets is carried off down the drains, and what
proportion is ladled up by the scavengers, I have
no means of ascertaining, but that vast quantities
run away into the sewers and there form large
deposits of mud, everything tends to prove.

Mf . Lovick, on being asked, " How many loads
of deposit have been removed iu any one week in
the Surrey and Kent district) What is the total

204

LONDON LABOUR AKD THE LONDON POOR.

quantity of deposit rcmoTed in any one week in .
the whole of the metropolitan district 1" replied : i

" It is difficult, if not impossible, to ascertain |
correctly the quantity removed, owing to the
variety of fonns of sewers and the eTer-varying
forms assumed by the deposit from the action of
varying volumes of water ; but I have had obser-
vations made on the rate of accumulation, from
which I have been enabled roughly to approximate
it. In one week, in the Surrey and Kent district,
about 1000 yards were removed. In one week,
in the whole' of the metropolitan districts, includ-
ing the Surrey and Kent district, between 4000
and 5000 yards were removed ; but in portions of
the districts these operations were not in pro-
gress."

It is not here stated of what the deposit con-
sisted, but there is no doubt that "mac" from the
streets formed a great portion of it. Neither
is it stated what period of time had sufficed for
the accumulation ; but it is evident enough that

snch deposiu in the course of a year roust be very
great.

The street snrfiice-water has been analyzed by
Professor Way, and found to yield different con-
stituents according to the different pavenienu from
which it has been diMharged. The results are at
follows : —

"Examination qf Samplet qf Water from Strut
Drainage, taken, from the Oullies in the Severs
during the rain of 6th May, I860.

** The waters were all more or less turbid, and
some of them gave off very noxious odours, due
principally to the escape of sulphuretted hydrogen
gu.

** Some of them were alkaline to test-paper, but
the majority were neutial.

" The following table exhibits the quantity of
matter (both in solution and in solid state) con-
tained in an imperial gallon of each specimen.

« STREET WATERS.

Number

QuaUty

Quality

Residue in an Imperial Gallon.

of

Name or SraacT.

of
Paving.

of
Traffic.

Bottle.

Soluble.

Insoluble.

Both.

Orainii.

Grains.

Grains.

1

Macadam

Middling

92-80

106-96

198-76

7

Foley -street (upper part) .

*>

Little

9613

116-30

211-43

5

Gower-street ....

Granite

Middling

126-00

168 30

294-30

12

Norton-street ....

t*

Little

123-87

8-00

12687

8

Hampstead-rond (above the canal)

Ballasted

Great

9600

84-00

18000

4

Ferdinand-street

it

Middling

44-00

48-30

92-30

2

Ferdinand-placeJ

it

Little

60-80

34-30

8510

10

Oxford-street

Granite

Great

276-23

637-10

813-33

6

„ ....

Macadam

f>

194-62

890-30

684-92

11

„ ....

Wood

$t

34-00

600

39-00

" The influence of the quality of the paving on
the composition of the drainage water," says Pro-
fessor Way, " is well seen in the specimens Nos.
10, 6, and 11, all of them from Oxford-street, the
traffic being described as ' Great.*

" The quantity of soluble salts is here found to
be greatest from the granite matter from the mac-
adamized road, and very inconsiderable from the
wood pavement.

" The same relation between the granite and
macadam pavement seems to hold good in the
other instances; the granite for any quality of
traffic affording more soluble salts to the water
than the macadam.

*' The ballasted pavement holds a position in-
termediate between the macadam and the wood,
giving more soluble salts than the wood, but less
than the macadam.

" The quantity of solid (insoluble) matter in the
different samples of water, irhich is a ineofttre qf
the nuchanical waste of the diJcreiU kinds of
pauvuntf ni)ppar8 also to follow the same relation
as that of the soluble salts; that is to say, granite
greatest, next macadam, then ballasted, and,

lastly, wood pavement, which affords a quantity
of solid deposit almost too small to deserve
notice.

" The influence of the quality of traffic on the
composition of the different specimens of drainage
is well marked in nearly all cases ; the greatest
amount of matter both insoluble and soluble being
found in the water obtained from the streets of
great traffic.

" The following table shows the composition
of the soluble salts of four specimens, two of them
being from the granite, and two from the macadam
pavement.

"It appears from tho table that the granite
furnishes little or no magnesia to the '^-ater, whilst
the quantity from the macadam is considerable.

"On the other hand, the quantity of potash
is far greatest in the water derived from the
granite.

*' The traffic, as was before seen, has a very
great influence on the quantity of the soluble
salts. It seems also to influence their composi-
tion, for we find no carbonates either in the water
from the granite, or that from the macadam, where

LONDON LABOUR AND THB LONDON POOR.

the traffic i« little; whereat, when it is great,
carbonatea of lime and potaih are found in the
water in large quantity, a circumstance which is

no doubt attributable to the action of decaying
organic matter on the mineral subttances of the
paTement.

"ANALYSIS OF THB SOLUBLE MATTER IN DIFFERENT SPECIMENS OF
STREET DRAINAGE WATER.

Onini in sn Imperial Gallon.

Great TraflOc

Little Traffic.

Granite.
No. 10.

Macadam.
No. 6.

Granite.
No. 12.

Macadam.
No. 7.

Water of combination and some soluble
organic matter

Silica . ^

Carbonic Acid

Sulphuric Acid

Lime

Magnesia

Oxide of Iron and Alumina, with a little
Phosphate of Lime ....

Chloride of Potassium ....
„ Sodium ....

Potash

Soda

77-66

•51

15-84

36-49

6-65

None

2-58
None
63-84
82-76

29-07
2-81
12-23
38-23
18-38
23-51

'1-25
10-99
44-88
18-27

22-72

None
46-48
25-90
Trace

None

18-44

8-76

1-58

13-78

None

34-08

16-10

3-60

2-79

19-70

5-23

276-23

194-62

123-87

9613

** The insoluble matter in the waters consists of
the comminuted material of the road itself, with
small fragments of straw and broken dung.

''The quantity of soluble salts (especially of
salts of potash) in many of these samples of water
is quite as great, and in some cases greater, than
that found in the samples of sewer- water that
have been examined ; and it is open to question
and further inquiry, whether the water obtained
from the street-drainage of a crowded city might
not often be of nearly equal yalue as liquid ma-
nure with the sewer-water with which it is at
present allowed to mix."

With regard to the "ballasted pavement" men-
tioned by Professor Way, I may observe that it
cannot be considered a «fr;e^pavement, unless
exceptionally. It is formed princip.illy of Thames
ballast mixed with gravel, and is used in the
construction of what are usually private or plea-
sure walks, such as the "gravel walks'' in the
inclosures of some of the parks, and upon Prim-
rose-hill, &c

Of the Master Soatexgers in fobsieb Ti^es.
Deqbaded as the occupation of the scavenger
may be in public estimation ; though " I 'd rather
sweep the streets" may be a common remark
expressive of the lowest deep of humiliation among
those who never handled a besom in their lives ;
yet the very existence of a large body who are
public cleansers betokens civilization. Their
occupation, indeed, was defined, or rather was
established or confirmed, in the early periods of
our history, when municipal regulations were a
sort of charter of civic protection, of civic liberties,
and of general progress.

The noun Scavenger is said by lexicographers
to be derived from the Gkrman sduiben, to shave
or scrape, " applied to those who scrape and clear
away the filth from public streets or other phices."
The more direct derivation, however, is from the
Danish verb ikaver, the Saxon equivalent of
which is aceafarif whence the English shave.
Formerly the word was written Scavager, and
meant simply one who was engaged in removing
the Scrapeage or Raheage (the working men, it
will be seen, were termed also " rakers ") from the
surface of the streets. Hence it would appear
that there is no authority for the verb to scavenge,
which has lately come into use. The term from
which the personal substantive is directly made,
is scavage, a word formed from the verb in the same
manner as sewage and rubbage (now fashionably
corrupted into rubbish), and meaning the refuse
which is or should be scraped away from the
roads. The Latin equivalent from the Danish
verb sl:av€, is scabere.

I believe that the first mention of a scavenger
in our earlier classical literature, is by Bishop
Hall, one of the lights of the Keformation, in one
of his " Satires."

*• To see the Pone's blacke knight, a cloaked frerc.
Sweating in the channel like a scarengere,"

Many similar passages from the old poets and
dramatists might bo adduced, but I will con-
tent myself with one from the "Martial Maid"
of Beaumont and Fletcher, as bearing immediately
on the topic I have to discuss : —

** Do I not know thee for the alguasler.
Whose (lunghil alt the parish scavengers
Could never rid."

Johnson defines a scavenger to be "a petty

«06

hONDOJf LABOUR ASJi TBE XA>NDON POOR,

nuigiitrBte, whote province if to keep the streets
deun;" and in the earlier time*, certainly the
■cavenfter was an officer to whom a certain
authority was deputed, as to beadles and others, j
One or two of these officials were appointed, i
according to the municipal or by-laws of the City i
of London, not to each parish, but to each ward. .
Of course, in the gootl old days, nothing could be j
done unless under " the sanction of an o^ith," and
the scavengers wero sworn accordingly on the
Gospel, the following being the form as given in '
the black letter of the laws relating to the city in
tho time of Henry VIII.

" The Oath ij Scaw*/cr8, or Scavcujer^, <ff tke ;

Ward.

"Ycslial swear, Tkitye shuj wel and diligently
oversee that the pavements in every Ward be wel
and rightfully repaired, und not haunscd to the
noyaunce of the neighbours ; and that the Ways, .
Streets, and Lane?, be kept clean from Donge and
other Filth, f^r the Ilnnesty of the City. And
that all tho Chimneys, Kedwtses, and Furnaces, bv :
made of Stone for Defence of Fire. And if yc
know Hny such ye shall shew it to tho Alderman, j
that he may nmko due lledreas therefore. And
this ye slmll not lene. So help you God." *

To aid the scavengers in their execution of the |
duties of the odicc, the followinjj among others
were the injunctions of the livic law. They in-
dicate the tonix-r state of the streets of London '
better than any description. A " Goun^ (or dung)
fermour ' appears to be a nightman, a dung-carrier '
or Wurcr, the servant of the master ur ward I
scavriij^er.

**Nu (ioungfermour Khali s|.ill any ordure in the
Street, under p:iin of Thirteen Shiiiin<!i »iid Four
Pence.

" No Gounjjfcrmour shall cirry any ordure till
after nine of the dutk in the Ni^lit, uudtr puin of ;
Thiiteen Fhiliinus and F'uur rencc. No man '
sha!l cn^t any urine \to\'A, or ordun; boIc<«, into
the S;ri>c'ts by Day or N i},'ht, /»/y/c i/>- I/vnr of
tiihii in Mr yiif/it. And aUo he shall not cast it
out, but bring it down and lay it in the Cnnel, '
undrr Tjiin oi' Thnv iShiliinss and F'our IVnce. ■
And if lu' do flo iii8t it uiioii any Pci-kon's lit-ad,
the i\'ison to ha\e a lawful Ucconipfniie, //" At i
Artiv hi' if f/.iitf'i/. ■

'* No man tliall bury any Dung, or (loung. :
within the Libi-rties of this City, under Tain of
Forty .Shillings.*'

I will not dwell on the state of thinp:^ which '
cauni'd jjuch rnactn'.cnts to lie iiccc8>ary, or on the
barbiiriani «»f the law which crden d a lawful n-
coni]ienAe to any person assailed in the manner
intimated, only when ho had "hurt iherchy."

These laws were for the government of the city,
where a body of scavengers was sun.etiuies culled |

* •' IlniinMil '• !■» oxplaincil by StryiH* to n'tnuKy
•'iniiili- lint hi^jh," ami the •' Heilnsye}, '• tu \h' '• llert-
dou^'h >." \ II ,iM n iuff rinctl iru> that lie U lu vid these-
ltei!(i-<e«> Wire what »«ro known in some oUl loimtry- I
hoiL^e^ bn " linck-FIiKii," <ir Hue* o(Hiiuetin(; any lin- i
pr.i'.e in the <)Ut-t)»Hits uith tie main cliinuiey. The
term "lene" i<« the Teutonic Lf/iii, aud siKnitles " Itt, I
lert!>e," or literally /o«/i. j

« ** ttreet^scd." Until about the reign of ChnilM
II., however, to legiakte oonceming such matten
for the city wM to legislate for the metropolis, at
Souihwark was then more or less under the city
jurisdiction, and the houses of the nobility on the
north bank of the Thames (the Strand), would
hardly require the services of a public scavenger.

As new parishes or districts became populous,
and established outside the city boundaries, the
authorities seem to have regulated the public
•cavengery after the fashion of the city ; but the
whole, in every respect of cleanliness, propriety,
regularity, or celerity, was most grievously de-
fective.

Some time about the middle of tlie last century,
the scavengers were considered and pronounced by
the administrators or explainers of municipal law,
to be " two officers chosen yearly in each parish
in London and the suburbs, by the constables,
churchwardens, and other inhabitants,'' and their
business was declared to be, that tbey should
** hire persons called ' rakers,' with carts to clean
the streets, and carry away the dirt and filth
thereof, under a penalty of 40i."

The scavengers thus appointed we should now
term surveyors. There is little reason to doubt
that in the old times tho duly-appointed scavagers
or scavengers, laboured in their vocation them-
selves, and employed such a ntmiber of additional
hands as they Recounted necessary: but how or
when the master scavenger ceased to be a labourer,
and how or when the office became merely nominal,
I can find no information. So little attention ap-
pears to have been paid to this really important mat-
ter, that there are hardly any records concerning it.
The law was satistiiHl to lay down provisions for
stn^' t-eleansinjLT, but &> enforce these provisions
was left to chanee, or to some idle, c( rnipt, or in-
efficient officer or body.

Neither can I lind any precise account of what
was formerly done with the dirt swept and
fKrniped from the streets, which 5eeni3 always to
have been left to the dii>crction of the scavenger
to deal with ns he pleased, and such is still the
case in a great nifahure. Some of this dirt I find,
however, proniotid ** the goodly nutriment of the
kind " abiiut London, and some was " delivered in
waste ]daces apart from habitationi<.'' Tiiese waste
places si-em to have been the nuclei of the pre-
sent dust-yards, and were sometimes " prefonted."
that is, they were reported by a jury of nuisances
(or under other titles), as " places of obscene re-
sort," for lewd and disorderly persons, the lewd
and disorderly jiersons consisting chietly of the
very poor, who catne to search ainont; the rubbish
for anything that might be ^-aluable or saleable;
for there were frequent rumours of treat nro or
plate being temporarily hidden in such places by
thieves. Ji^ome outcast wretches, moreover, ^lept
within the shelter of these scavengers' place<i, and
occabionaliy a vigilant officer — even down lu our
own limes, or within these few years — jippre-
hended such wretches, charged them with destitu-
tion, and had them punished accordingly. Much
of the street refuse thus "delivered," especially the
" dry rubbish, "was thrown into the streets from

LONDON LABOUR AND TBS LONDON POOR.

207

hooiei under repair, &c^ (I now fpeak of the
pait cmtuf}',) and no tue seems to have been roadc
of any part of it unleu an}' one requiring a load
or two of rubbish chose to cart it away.

I have given this sketch to show what nuister
scavengers were in the olden times, and I now
proceed to point out what is the present condition
of the trade.

Of the Several Modes arp Chabactsbistics
OF Strekt-Cleahsiko.
^Ve here come to the practical part of this com-
plex subject We have ascertained the length of
the streets of London — we have estimated the
amount of daily, weekly, and yearly traffic — cal-
culated the quantity of mud, dung, ''mac/' dust,
and surface-water formed and collected annually
throughout the metropolis — we have endeavoured
to arrive at some notion as to the injury done by
all tTiis vast amount of filth owing to what the
lionrd of Health has termed " imperfect scaveng-
ing,"— and we now come to treat of the means by
which the loads of street refuse— the loads of
dust — loads of "mac" and mud, and the tons of
dung, are severally and collectively removed
throughout the year.

There are two distinct, and, in a measure,
diametrically opposed, methods of street^cleansing
at present in operation.

1. That which consists in cleaning the streets
when dirtied.

2. That which consists in cleaning them and
Ufpinij them clean.

These modes of scavenging may not appear, to
those who have p:iid but little attention to the
matter, to be i*e»'y widely different means of
effecting the same object The one, however, re-
moves the refiue from the streets (sooner or later)
aj'ter tl kas been Jonned, whereas the other re-
moves it at fait a$ it is foinned. By the latter
Djeihod the streets are never allowed to get dirty
— by the former they must be dirty before they
are cleansed.

The plan of street-cleansing '«•/(/« dirtiod, or the
pre-Bcavenging system, is of recent introduction,
being the mode adopted by the " street-orderlies ;"
that of cleansing after ha>'ing dirtied, or the post-
scavenging system, is (so far as the more gcne-
i-al or common method is concerned) the same as
that pursued two centuries ago. I shall speak
of each of these moiU'S in due course, beginning
with that last mentioned.

By the ordinary method of scavenging, the dirt
is stiil swept or scmp<'d to one side of the
public way, then shovelled into a cart and con-
veyed to the place of deposit In wet weather
the dirt swept or scraped to one side is so
liquified that it is known as "slop," and is
"lifted" into the cart in shovels hollowed like
sugar^spoons. The only change of which I have
he:ird in this mode of scavenging was in one of
the tools. Until about nine years ago birch, or
occasionally heather, brooms or besoms were used
by the street- sweepew, but they soon became
clogged in dirty weather, and then, as one working
scavenger explained it to me, " they scattered and

drove the dirt to the sides *8tead of making it go
right a-head as you wonts it" The material now
used for the street-sweeper's broom is known as
" bass," and consists of the stems or branches of
a New Zealand plant, a substance which has con-
siderable strength and elasticity of fibre, and both
" sweeps " and " scrapes " in the process of scaveng-
ing. The broom itself^ too, is differently constructed,
having divisions between the several insertions of
bass in the wooden block of the head, so that clog-
ging is less frequent, and cleaning easier, whereas
the birch broom consisted of a close mass of twigii,
and thus scattered while it swept the dirt. There
was, of course, some outcry on the part of the
" established-order-of-things " gentry among sca-
vengers, against the innovation, but it is now
general. As all the scavengers, no matter how
they var}' in other respects, work with the brooms
described, this one mention of the change will
suffice. No doubt the cleansing of the streets i.s
accomplished with greater efficiency and with
greater celerity than it was, but the mere pro-
cess of manual toil is little altered.

In a work like the present, however, we have
more particularly to deal with the lahojirers en-
gaged ; and, viewing the subject in this light, we
may arrange the several modes of street-cleansing
into the four following divisions : —

1. By paid manual-labourers, or men employed
by the contractors, and paid in the ordinary ways
of -wages.

2. By paid " Machine "-labourers, diflfering from
the first only or mainly in the means by which
they attain their end.

ti. liy pauper labourers, or men employed by
the parishes in which they are set to work, and
either paid in money or in food, or maintained in
the woikhoiises.

4. By street-orderlies, or men employed by
philanthropists — a body of workmen with par-
ticular regulations and more orgsmized than other
scavengers.

By one or other of these modes of scavenger}'
all the public ways of the metropolis are cU^nsed ;
and the subject is most peculiar, as including within
itself all the several varieties of labour, if we ex-
cept that of women and children — viz., manual
labour, mechanical labour, pauper labour, and phi-
lanthropic labour.

By these several varii-ties of labour the high-
ways and by-ways of the entire metropolis are
cleansed, with one exception — the Mew», con-
ceniiug which a few words here may not be out of
place. All these ItJcalities, whether they be what
are styled Private or Gentlemen's Mews, or Pub-
lic Mews, where stables, coach-houses, and dwell-
ing rooms above them, may be tiken by any
one (a good many of such places being, moreover,
public or partial thoroughfiires) ; or whether they bo
job-masters' or cab-proprietors* mews; arc scavenged
by the occupants, for the manure is valuable. The
mews of London, indeed, constitute a world of
their own. They are tenanted by one class-
coachuien and grooms, with their wives and
families — men who are devoted to one pursuit, the
care of horses and carriages ; who live and asso-

208

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

ciate one among another ; whose talk is of horses
(with something about masters and mistresses) as
if to ride or to drive were the great ends of human
existence, and who thus live as much together as
the Jews in their compulsory quarters in Borne.
The mews are also the " chambers ** of unemployed
coachmen and grooms, and I am told that the very
sicknesses known in such places have their own
peculiarities. These, however, form matter for
futtire inquiry.

(.'oncerning the private scavenging of the metro-
politan mews, the Medical Timet, of July 26,
1851, contains a letter from Mr. G. Cochrane, in
which that gentleman says : —

'' It will be found, that in all the mews through-
out the metropolis, the manure produced from each
stable is packed up in a separate stack, until there
is sufficient for a load for some market-gardener or
farmer to remove. The groom or stable-man makes
an arrangement, or agreement as it is called, with
the market-gardener, to remove it at his con-
venience, and a gratuity of 1^. or 1^. 6(f. per load is
usually presented to the stable-man. In some
places there are dung-pits containing the collect-
ings of a fortnight's dung, which, when disturbed
for removal, casts out an offensive effluvium, as
sickening as it is diflgtisting to the whole neigh-
bourhood. In consequence of the arrangement in
question, if a third party wished to buy some of
this manure, he could not get it ; and if he wished
to pet rid of any by giving it away, the stable-
man would not receive it, as it would not be re-
moved sufficiently quick by the farmer. The re-
sult is, that whilst the air is rendered olTensive and
inaalubrious, manure lK>comes difficult to be re-
moved or dij*i)<)Sod of, and frequently is washed
away into the sewer.

•• Uf this manure there are always (at a mode-
rate coniputaiion) rciuaining daily, in the mews
and stiihle-yards of the metropolis, at least 2u00
cart-loads.

'• To remedy these evils, I would suggest that
a brief Act of Purliamcnt should be passed, giving
municipal and parochial authorities the same com-
plete control over the manure as they have over
the 'atiies,' with the provision, that owners
Bhou'd have the rijjht of removing it themselves
for their own use ; but if they did not do so
daily, then the control to return to the above
authorities, who should have the right of selling
it, and placing the proceeds in the parish funds.
By this simple means immense quantities of
valuable manure would be saved for the purposes
of agriculture — food would be rendered cheaper
and more abundant — more people would be em-
ployed— wliilst the metropolis would be rendered
clean, sweet, and healthy."

I may dismiss this part of the subject with the
remark, that I was informed that the mews' ma-
nure was in regular demand and of ready sale,
being remf)ved by the mjirket-gardeners with
greater facility than can street-dirt, which the
contractors with the parishes prefer to vend by the
barge-load.

Having enumerated the four several modes of
street-cleansing, I will now proceed to point out

briefly the characteristics of each class of cleansing.
This will also denote the quality of the employers
and the nature of the employment.

1. Th€ Paid Manual Labourers constitute the
bulk of those engaged in scavenging, and the
chief pay-masters are the contractors. Many of
these labourers consider themselves the only
" regular hands,** having been " brought up to the
business;" but unemployed or destitute labourers
or mechanics, or reduced tradesmen, will often
endeavour to obtain employment in street-sweep-
ing; this is the necessary evil of all vfuHUed
labour, for since every one can do it (without pre-
vious apprenticeship), it follows that the beaten-
out artisans or discarded trade assistants, beg^
gared tradesmen, or reduced gentlemen, must
necessarily resort to it as their only means of in-
dependent support; and hence the reason why
dock labour and street Ubour, and indeed all the
several forms of unskilled work, have a tendency to
be overstocked with hands — the untkilled occupa-
tions being, as it were, the sink for all the refuse
tkilUd labour and beggared industry of the coun-
try.

The "contractors,** like other employers, are
separated by their men into two classes — such as,
in more refined callings, are often designated the
" honourable " and ** dishonourable '* traders — ac-
cording as they pay or do not pay what is reputed
" &ir wages.**

I caimot say that I heard any especial appella-
tion given by the working scavengers to the
better-paying class of employers, unless it were
the expressive style of " good-'uns." The inferior
paying class, however, are very generally known
among their work-people as " scurfs."

2. T/ie Street-sicf'ping Machine Idihoura's. —
Of the men employed as "attendant" scavengers,
for so they may be termed, in connection with
these mechanical and vehicular street-sweepers,
little need here be said, for they are generally of
the class of ordinary scavengers. It may, how-
ever, be necessary to explain that each of those
machines must have the street refuse, for the
*• lick-in" of the machine, swept into a straight
line wherever there is the slightest slope at the
sides of a street towards the foot-path; the same,
too, must sometimes be done, if the pavement be
at all broken, even when the progress of the
machine is, what 1 heard, not very appropriately,
termed ** plain sailing." Sometimes, also, men
follow the course of the street-sweeping machine,
to " sweep up " any dirt missed or scattered, as
the vehicle proceeds on a straightforward course,
for at all to diverge would be to make the labour,
where the machine alone is used, almost double.

3. The Pauper, or Parish-employed Scavengers
present characteristics peculiarly their own, as re-
gards open-air labour in London. They are em-
ployed less to cleanse the streets, than to prevent
their being ch.irgeable to the poor's rate as out-
door recipients, or as inmates of the workhouses.
When paid, they receive a lower amount of wages
than any other scavengers, and they are some-
times p<iid in food as well as in money, while a
difference may be made between the wages of the

LOJfDOy LABOUR AND TEE LONDON POOR,

200

BUirried and af the unmazTied men, and even be-
tween the married men who liave and have not
children; some, again, are employed in Bcavenging
without any money receipt, their maintenance in
the workhouse being considered a sufficient re-
turn for the fruits of their toil.

^ome of theso men are feeble, some are un-
skilful (even in tasks in which skill is but little
of an element), and most of them are dissatisfied
workmen. Their ranks comprise, or may com-
prise, men who have filled very different situa-
tions in life. It is mentioned in the second
edition of one of the publications of the National
Philanthropic Association, "Sanatory Progress"
(1850), " that the once high-salaried cashier of a
West-end bank died lately in St. Pancros-
workhouse ; — that the architect of several of the
most fa&hionable West-end club-houses is now
an inmate of St. James's-workhouse ; — and that
the architect of St. Pancros* New Church lately
died in a back garret in Somcrs-town. ** Theso
recent instances (a few out of mnny) '' says the
writer, "prove that * wealth has wings/ and that
Genius and Industry have but leaden feet, when
overtaken by Adversity. A late number of the
Olobe newspaper states that, * among the police
constables on the Great Western Kail way, there
are at present eight members of the Uoyal College
of Surgeons, and three solicitors;' — and the
Limerick Examiner, a few weeks ago, announced
the fact, that * a gentlewoman is now an inmate
of the workhouse of that city, whose husband, a
few years ago, filled the office of High Sheriff of
the county.* '*

I do not know that either the cashier or the
architect in the two workhouses in question was
employed as a stree^sweeper.

This second class, then, are situated differently
to the paid street-sweepers (cr No. 1 of the present
division), who may be considered, more or lesi*,
independent or self-supporting labourers, while the
paupers are, of coarse, dependent.

4. TIte "iitrtet OrdtrlitJt." — These men present
another distinct body. They are not merely in the
employment, but many of them are under the care,
of the National Philanthropic Association, which
was founded by, and is now under the presiilciicy
of, Mr. Cochrane. The objects of this society, as
far as regards the street orderlies' existence as a
class of scavengers, are sufficiently indicated in its
title, which declares it to be " For the Promotion
of Street Cleanliness and the Employment of the
Poor; so that able-bodied men may be prevented
from burthening the parish rates, and preserved
independent of workhouse alms and degradation.
Supported by the contributions of the benevolent.*

The street orderlies, men and boys, are paid a
fixed weekly wiwe, a certain sum being stopped
from those single men who reside in houses
rented for them by the association, where their
meals, washing, Kc, are provided. Among them
arc men of many callings, and some educated and
accomplished persons.

The system of street orderlyism is, moreover,
distinguished by one attribute unknown to any
other mode ; it is an effort, perserered in, despite

of many hindnncei and difficulties, to amend oar
street acavengery, indeed to refonn it altogether ;
so that dust and dirt may be checked in their very
origination.

The corporation, if I may so describe it, of
the street orderiies, presents characteristics, again,
varying from the other orders of what can only
be looked upon either as the self-supporting or
pauper workers.

These, then, are the several modes or methods of
street-sea vengery, and they show the following: —

Classes of Strebt-Sh'beping Employers.

(1.) Traders, who undertake contracts for
Bcavengery as a speculation. Under this de-
nomination may be cUssed the contractors with
parishes, districts, boards, liberties, divisions and
subdivisions of parishes, markets, &c.

(2.) Pariihes, who employ the men as a matter
of parochial policy, with a view to the reduction
of the rates, and with little regard to the men.

(8.) PhUantliropi»tt, who seek, more particu-
larly, to benefit the men whom thoy employ,
while they strive to promote the public good by
increasing public cleanliness aud order.

Under the head of "Traders" are the con-
tractors with the parishes, &c., and the proprietors
of the sweeping-machines, who are in the same
capacity as the "regular contract* rs" respecting
their dealings with labourers, but who substitute
mechanical for manual operations.

Of these several classes of masters engaged in

the scavengery ot' the metropolis I have much to

i say, and, for the clearer Sitying of it, I shall treat

I each of the several varieties of labour separately.

Of tue Contractoks fok Scavenoeuy.
Tub scavenging of tlie streets of the mctmpoUs is
performed directly or indirectly by the authorities
of the several parishes " without the City," who
have the power to levy rates for the cleansing of
the various districts; within the City, however,
the office is executed under the direction of the
i Court ot" iSewers.

i When the clenii&iiig of the streets is performed
! indirectly by either the parochial or civic authori-
: ties, it is effectt^d l)ycontritctori<, that is to siiy, by
, traders who under;ako f^r a certain sum to re-
1 move the stieet-reliise at stated intervals and
i under express condition:*, and who emphiy paid
servants to execute the work for then). When it
is performed directly, the authorities employ la-
bourers, genendly fioni the workhouse, and usually
enter into an agreement with tmine contractor for
the use of his carta and appliances, together with
the ri^ht to deposit in his whaif or yard the refuse
removed from the streets.

I shall treat first of the indirect mode of
scavenging — that is to say, of cleansing the streets
by contract — bejiinning with the contractors,
setting forth, as ne:ir ns possible, the receipts and
expenditure in connection with the tnide, and
then proceeding in due order to treat of the
labourers emiloyed by them in the performance
of the task.

Some of the contractors agree with the parochial

210

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

or district authorities to remove the dust from the
house-bins as well as the dirt from the streets
under one and the same contract; some undertake
to execute these two offices under separate con-
tracts ; and some to perform only one of them.
It is most customary, however, for the same con-
tractor to serve the parish, especially the hirger
parishefl, in both capacities.

There is no established or legally required
foriK of agreement between a contractor and his
principals; it is a bargain in which each side
strives to get the best of it, but in which the
parish representatives have often to contend
against something looking like a monopoly; a
Tety common occurrence in our day when capital-
ists choose to combine, which u legal, or unno-
ticed, but very heinous on the part of the
working men, whoso capital is only in their
strength or skill. One contractor, on being ques-
tioned by a gentleman officially connected with a
brgc district, as to the existence of combination,
laughed at such a notion, but said there might be
" a sort of understanding one among another," as
among people who " must look to their own in-
teresU, and see which way the cat jumped ; "
concluding with the undeniable assertion that
" no man ought reasonably to be expected to ruin
himself for a parish."

There does not appear, however, to have been
any countervailing qualities on the part of the
parishes to this understanding among the con-
tractors ; for some of the authorities have found
themselves, when a new or a renewed contract
was in question, suddenly " on the other side of
the hcdiro." Thus, in the south-west district of
St. raiunis, the contractor, live or six years ago,
paid lOO/. per annum for tho removal and possession
of the street dirt. \c. : but the following year the
district aiithoj-ities had to pay him 500/. for the
snnic labour and with tho same privileges! Other
changi^s took place, and in l.sis-U a contractor
again j»aifl the district PiV. I have shown, too,
that in ShaJwell the dust-contractor now nr^iv^s
45ui. |H'r annum, whereas he formerly ;)tt/(/ 240/.
To prove, however, that a spirit of combination
does in:tuti,imllii exist among these contractors, I
HKiy cite tho following minute fmm one of the
parish liouks.

Kjtroct from MinuU-hool; Xnr. 7, 1839.
Litter C, Folio 4U7.

" Commissioner's Office,
" 30, llowland-street,
"Nov. 7, 1839.
" Report of the Paving Committee to the (jcneral
Board, relating to the watering the district for
tbi* t>ast \Qivc.

" Your C(»mmitteo beg leave to report tKit for
the past three years the sums paid by ontract for
watering were respectively : —

"For]S30 £230

„ liS37 220

,,1833 200

" That in the month of Fcbniary in the present
year the Board advertised in the usual manner for

tenders to water the district, when the following
were received, via. : —

"Mr. Darke £815

„ Gore 818

„ Nicholls .... 312

„ Btarkey 285

which was the lowest

** Tour Committee, onxions to prevent any in-
crease in the watering-rate firom being levied, and
considering the amount required by the contrac-
tors for this service as excessive and exorbitant,
and even evincing a spirit of combination, resolved
to make an inrMd upon this sptem, and after
much trouble and attention adopted other mea-
sures for watering the district, the results of
which they have great pleasure in presenting to
the Board, by which it will be seen that a saving,
over the very lowest of tbe above tenders of
102/. 8«. has been effected ; the sum of 18/. 18^.
has been paid for pauper labour at the same time.
Your Committee regret that, notwithstanding the
efforts of themselves and their officers, the state of
insubordination and insult of most of the paupers
(in spite of all encouragement to industry) was
such, that the Committee, on the 12th of July
lost, were reluctantly compelled to discontinue
their services. The Committee cannot but con-
gratulate the Board upon the result of tlieir
experiment, which will have the effect of breaking
up a spirit of combination highly dangerous to the
community at large, at the same tune that their
labours have caused a very considerable saving to
the ratepayers; and they trust the work, con-
sidering all the numerous disad\'antages under
which they have laboured, has been performed in
a satisfactory manner.

*'P. CuHNUfOHiJff,

*' Surveyor,
" 30, Ilowland-street, FifcBroy-sqimre."

The following regulations sufficiently show the
nature of the agreements made between the con-
tractors and the authorities as to the cleansing of
the more important thoroughfares especially. It
will be seen that in the reguUtions I quote every
street, court, or alley, must now be swept flail >/, a
])ractice which has only been adopted within those
few ycsurs in the City.

" Pewebs' Office, Guildhall, Lokpon, IIakkrij'
Duties,* Midsummer, 1851, to Midsummer,
1852.

*' Cleansing.
"The vhoU surface of every Carriage-way,
Court, and Alley shall be swept tireri/ dat/ (Sundays
, excepted), and all mud, dust, filth, and rubbish,
all frozen or partially frozen matter, and snow,
1 animal and vegetsible matter, and everything
i offensive or injurious, shall be properly pecked,
■ scraped, swept up, and carted away therefrom ;
I and the iron gutters laid across or olong the foot-
ways, the air-grates over the sewers, the gulley-

* The reader will remember that in the historical
sketch (Oven of the profptiss of public scavenffcry, the
word " Rakcn** occurred in cfmnection with the sworn
master scavengers, &c, fte. ; the word in now unknown
to the trade, except that it appears on city documents.

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

211

grates in the carriage-way of the streets respec-
tively ; and all puhlic urinals are to be daily raked
out, swept, and made clean and clear from all
obstructions; and the Contractor or Contractors
shaU, in time of frost, continually keep the
channels in the Streets and Places clear for water
to run off: and cleanse and cart away refuse
hogaii or gravel (when called upon by the Inspector
to do so) from all streets newly paved.

" The Mud and Dirt, &c., is to be carted away
immediately that it is swept up.

" N.B. the Inspector of the District may, at
any time he may think it necessar}', order any
Street or Place to be cleansed and swept a second
time in any one day, and the Contractor or Con-
tractors are thereupon bound to do the same.

" The Markets and their approaches are also to
be thus cleansed DAILY, and the approaches
thereto respectively are also to be thus cleansed at
such an hour in the night of Saturday in each
week as the Inspector of the District may direct.
" Every Street, Lane, Square, Yard, Court,
Alley, Passage, and Place (except certain main
Streets hereinafter enumerated), are to be thus
cleansed within the following hours Daily :
namely —

"In the months of April, May, June, July,
August, and September. To be begun not
earlier than 4 o'Clock in the morning, and
finished not later than .1 o'Clock in the after-
noon.
" In the months of October, November, December,
January, Fcbniar}', and March. To be begun
not earlier than 5 o*Clock in the morning, and
finished not later than 2 o'Clock in the after-
noon.

" The following main Streets are to be cleansed
DAILY throughout the year (except Sundays),
to be begun not earlier than 4 o'Clock in the
morning, and finished not later than 9 o'Clock in
the morning.

Fleet Street

Ludgate Hill and Street

St. Paul's Church Yard

Cheapside

Newgate Street

Poultry

VTatling Street, Budge
Row, and Cannon St.

Mansion House Street

Comhill

Leadenhall Street

Aldgate Street and Aid-
gate

KingWilliam Streetand
London Bridge

Fenchurch Street

Holbom

Holbom Bridge

Skinner Street

Old Bailey
Lombard Street'
New Bridge Street
Farringdon Street
Aldersgate Street
St. Martin-le-grand
Prince's Street
Moorgate Street
The Street called ' The

Pavement'
Finsbur}' Place, South
Gracechurch Street
Bishopsgate St, within

and without
The Minories
Wood Street
Gresham Street
Coleman Street

" N.B. In times of frost and snow these hours
of executing the work may be extended at the
discretion of the Local Commissioners."

The other conditions relate to the removal of
the dust from the houses (a subject I have already

treated), and specify the fines, varying from 1/. to
5/., to be paid by the contractors, for the violation
or neglect of any of the provisions of the contract
It is further required that " Each Foreman,
Sweeper, and Dustman, in the employ of either of
the Contractors," (of whom there arc four, Messrs.
Sinnott, Rooke, Reddin, and Gould), " will be re-
quired to wear a Badge on the arm with these
words thereon, —

" ' London Sewers,
N».-
Guildhall,'
by which means any one having cause of complaint
against any of the men in the performance of their
several duties, may, by taking down the number
of the man and applying at the Sewers' Office,
Guildhall, have reference to his name and em-
ployer.

" Any man working without his Badge, for
each day he offends, the Contractor is liable to
the penalty of Five Shillings.

'' All the sweepings of the Streets, and all the
dust and ashes from the Houses, are to be entirely
carted away from the City of London, on a
Penalty of Ten Pounds for each cart-load."

These terms sufficiently show the general nature
of the contracts in question ; the principal differ-
ence being that in some parts, the contractor is not
required to sweep the streets more than once, twice,
or thrice a week in ordinary weather.

The number of individuals in London styling
themselves Master Scavengers is 34. Of these,
10 are at present without a contract either for
dust or scavenging, and 5 have a contract for
removing the dust only ; so that, deducting these
two numbers, the gross number 34 is re-
duced to 19 scavenging contractors. Of the
latter number 16 are in a large way of busi-
ness, having large yards, possessing several carts
and some wnggons, and employing a vast number
of men daily in sweeping the streets, carting
rubbish, &c. The other 3 masters, however,
are only in a small way of business, being persons
of more limited means. A large master scavenger
employs from 3 to 18 carts, and from 18 to
upwards of 40 men at scavengery alone, while
a small master employs only from 1 to 3 carts
and from 3 to C men. By the table I have
given, p. 186, vol. ii., it is shown that there are
52 contracts between the several district authori-
ties and master scavenger.-*, and nineteen contrac-
torg, without counting members of the same family,
as distinct individuals ; this gives an average of
nearly three distinct contracts per individual.
The contracts are usually for a twelvemonth.

Although the table above referred to shows
but 19 contractors for public scavenging, there
are, as I have said, more, or about 24, in Lon-
don, most of them in a •* large way," and next year
some of those who have no contracts at present
may enter into agreements with the parishes. The
smallness of this number, when we consider the
vast extent of the metropolis, confirms the notion
of the sort of monopoly and combination to which
I have alluded. In the Post-Office Directory for
1851 there are no names under the heads of.

212

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

Scavenscrs or Dustmen, but undi*r the head of
" Biibbuh Carters," i!8 ore given, 0 iisunes being
marked ns '* iJuat Contractor!" and 10 as "Kiglit-
luen."

Of hirec contractorB, however, there arc, as I
have Kiid, about 24, but they may not all obtain
contracts every year, and in this number aro in-
cluded diiVcrent members of tlie same family or
firm, who may undertake fspccitic contracts, al-
though in the trade it is looked upim as " (int>
concern." The smaller contractors were rcjre-
sentcd to me as rather more numerous than the
others, and p<.'rha{)S numbered 40, but it is not
easy to define what is to be accounted a contractor.
In the table given iu pp. 21'^ 214, 1 cite only 7 as
being the better known. The others may 1h» con-
sidered iLA small rubbish-carters and tiyiu'i-dnstmcn.

There are yet other tnin-.-sctions in which the
contractors aro engaged with the piri^h'.-d, inde-
pendently of their undertaking the whole labour
of street and hou.-jc cleansing. In tlje I'ariitlios
where paupir, or " poor* labour is resortid to —
for it is n<»t alwnys that the men employed by
the parishes arc |o.iitive ** piiuj»orf," but rnther
the unemplftyed jroor of the jtarish — in tuih
parishes, I say, an ii^jreement i> entered into with
a contractor for the deposit of the collected street
dirt at hi:* yard or wharf. For Mich (lepitsit the
contractor must of curse \w {-aid, as it is really
im occnpat.o i and renting ot a portion of his
premises for :i Kppcit'ic purpose. The street dirt,
however, i^ usn.il;y left to the disposal of the con-
tra<ti)r, for his own profit, ami where he cme
paid r»0/. lor tlie possession of the strret collected
dirt of aiHiiish, colli-ctod by labour ^\hich was no
coit to him. 1,0 may ii..Wi. .»./'. half of hiuh T*"/,,
or whatoxor the ti-rnis of tlie jignemeut nj.ty he.
I heard of one contrattwr who latidy received 2;>/.
v.'liero he once j»aid 60/.

In another way. too, contractors j:rc employed
by parishes. Where jiaup.'r or poor labour in
fiirectclttansiiig is the practice, a con tractor's hordes,
cart*, and c.irt-drivers are hired l'»r the convey-
ance of the din from the streets. This of course
is for a specific j)ayment, and is in reality tliewo:k
of the tradesmen wh«» in ihe Tost Ullice Directory
are doscriU'd as " Kubbish Carters," and of whom
I shall Inve to speak afterwards, t^ome jiarishe*
or paving boards have, however, their own !ii>rses
atid vehicles, but in the other respects they have
dejiliniis wiih the contractors.

To come to as correct a conclusion as pr»ssible
in this complicated and invohed matter, I have
obtained the aid of some gentU-men long familiar
with such procedures. One of them said that to
procure the accounts of such transactions for a
series r,f years, with all their chops and changes,
or to olitain a petiectly pneifc return, (or any
threi." year.<«, aifoctii.g the whole metrojjolis, would
be tile wosk of a parliamentary commission with
full powers " to send for j-apers," &c., «S:c., r.nd
that even Uri*. ih-- result might not be satisfactory
as a cl.'ar expo:,iii<in. However, Avith the aid of
the g.-ntleiuen alluded to, I venture upon the
following approximation.

As my present inquiry relates only to the

I Scavenging Contractors in the metropolis, I will
i take the number of districts, markets, kc, which
are specified in the table, p. ISG, vol. ii. These
are S3 in number, of which 21) are shown to be
scavenged by the "parish." I will not involve in
this computation any of the more rural places
which may h:i]<pcn to be in the outskirts of the
metropolitan area, but I will take the contracts as
51. wheri* the contiactors d) the entire work, and
as '20 whore they are but the rubbish-carters and
dirt receivers of the parishes.

I am assured that it is a fair calculation that
the scavengery of the streets, apart from the re-
moval of the dust from the houses, costs iu pay-
ments to the contract-irs, 150/. as an average, to
each of the several £4 districts; and that in the
2l> localities in which the i>trects ore cleansed by
))arish labour, the sum paid is at the rate of 501.
per locality, some of them, as the five districts of
Marylebone for instance, being very large. This
is calculated legardlessof the coses where parishes
may have their own horses and vehicles, for the
cost to the ratejKiycrs moy not be very materially
different, between paying for the hire of carts and
horsi.s, and investing capital in their purchase and
incurring the ex|»ense of wear and tear. The ac-
count t'len stands thus : —

Parish payment on 54 contracts, 150/.
each . * iSlOO

Parish ])ayment on 29 contracts, 50/.
each . * 1450

Yearly total sum paid for Scavenging of
the Metropolis £9550

or, apportioned among 10 contractors, upwards of
iiUf^l. each; and amoni; S3 cuhtraUs, about 115/.
|>er vimfriK-f. Kven it' other contractors are em-
ployed where j»ar".sh labour is pursued, the cost
to the rate-payers is the s.nme. This calculation
is made, as tar as possible, as regards scavengery
alone ; and is independent of the value of the
refuse collected. It is about the scavenger)' that
the grand fight takes pi ice between the ])arishcs
and contractors; the house dust, being uninjured
by rain or street surface-water, is more available
for trade p:ir})Oses.

From this it would nj'pear that the cost of
cleansing the streets of London may be estim itcd
in round numbers at 10,(»00/. per annum.

The next jioint in the inquiry i*, What is the
value of the str«et dirt annually collected I

The price I have adduced for the dirt gained
from the streets is 3.'. per load, which is a very
reasonable averagrj. If the load be dung, or even
chielly dung, it is worth 5*. or 6*. With the
]»roportinn of dung and street refuse to be found
in such a thoroughfare as the Ilnymarket, in dry,
or comparatively dr\' weather, a load, weighing
about a ton, is worth a'lout 3.«. in the purchaser's
own cart. On the other hand, as I liave shown
that quantities of mixed or slop "mac " have to be
wasted, that some is sidd at a nominal price, and
a good deal at 1^. tlie load, 3s. is ceruinly a fair
average.

Thus the annual sum of the street-dirt, ai re-

LONl

>0N Lj

^G T
OLLE
ITINC
BOYS
rROP(

iBOUR AND TUB LONDON POOR.

213

EM-

D AT

MEN,

THE

A TABLE SHOWI!
TLOYED IN C
RUBBISH CAI
WOMEN, AND
SEVERAL ME*]

HE NUMBER OF MEN AND CARTS
:CTING DUST, IN SCAVENGERY, AN
\, AS WELL AS THE NUMBER OF
WORKING IN THE DUST-YARDS OF
3LITAN CONTRACTORS.

Dust.

Scavengery. t Rubbish Carting. | Working iii the

Vaid.

Number
of Boys
work-
ing.

Contractors (Large).

ployed.! "«ed.

1

Number
of Men

em-
ployed.

Number

of Carts, Number

Wag- of Men
gons, ori em-
Ma- ployed.

chines •^

used.

1

1

„ . 1 Number

o^asi-^^eisr"

"«^- 1 ployed.
1

Number
of Wo-

men ciD-
ployed.

Mr. Dodd

„ Gould

„ Redding

>, Gore

„ Rooko

„ Stapleton&Holdsworth
„ Tame

20 10
20 10
32 16
32 16
16 i 8
10 5
20 10

26
28
41
18
16
11

5
22
23

4

6
16
18
18

7

4
none.

13 1 20
11 ' 11
18 1 22

7 : none.
6 16

8 10

1 12

8 none.
10 i 8

2 1 20

2 none.
6 ditto.

9 ditto.

3 ditto.
2 1 20
1 i 0

none. 1 7

20

11

22
none.

16

10

12

none.

8

20

none,
ditto,
ditto,
ditto.

20
6
7

9
5
5
4
2
4
4
4
4
2
5
none.
3
2
3
3
2

12
15
12
20

6

8

8
12

8

G

15

none.

9

6

9

9

6

4
4
4
6
3
2
2
3
2
2
5
none.
2

\

3
2

„ Starkey

10 5

8 1 4

10 ; 5

28 ; 14
8 1 4
10 6
10 . 5
18 9
20 10

„ Newman

„ Pratt and Sewcll

„ W. Sinnott, Sen

„ J. Sinnott

„ Westley

i, Panons

„ Hcarne

„ Humphries

„ Calvert

6 3

Contractors (Small).

Mr. North

„ Milton

„ Jenkins

.278

4
6
2

139

2
3

1
5
1
2
2

262

2
none.

none.

6
none,
ditto.

107

1
none.

1
none.

3
none,
ditto.

5

152

4

none,
ditto,
ditto,
ditto.

5

6

152

4
none,
ditto.

61

1
3
1

161

2
G
2

9
2

3

2

48

1
2

!

1

„ Stroud

10
2
4
4

ditto, j 4
ditto. 1 1

5 ; 1

6 . 1

1

„ Martin

„ Clutterbuck

„ W. Sinnott, Jun

Contractors, but not having
any contract at present,
only carting rubbish, &c.

Mr. Darke

82 10 13

i

i

1 1

"* i ".; :::

15

15 ' 12

36 j

6 !

8
12

6

26

10
a

„ Tomkins

::: i i

... 8
... ! 12
... i 6

4
6

10

„ J. Cooper

::: i ::: :::

.. T. CooDcr. Sen

„ Athill

„ Bamett (lately sold off)
„ Brown

!

...

4

6

10

6

„ Ellis

„ Limpos

„ Emmerson

6

1

94

94

2H

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDOy POOR.

Machines.

Woodf and Foreats

Regent-street and Fall-mall.
St. Martin's

Parishes.

Kensington*

Chelsea*

St. George's, Hnnover-sq.*
StMargaretyWestminstcr*

Piccadilly*

St Ann's, Soho*

Paddington *

StMarylebone *(5 Districto)
St James's, Westminiter..

Hampstcad i

Highgate

Islington*

Hackney

St Clement Danes *

Commercial-road, East* ..

Poplar .-

Bermondsey

Newington

Lambeth *

Ditto (Christchurch)

"Wandsworth

Camberwell and Walworth

Rothcrhithe

Greenwich

Deptford

Woolwich

Lewisham

Dust.

Scavcnf^n.

Men.

none,
ditto,
ditto.

Carts. Men.

none,
ditto,
ditto.

No parochial re- ) .
mo vol of dust j

ditto.

4

6
8

"i

4

8

G

4

4
none,
ditto.

Total for Parishes

Total for large contractors .
Total for small contractors .

Total for niiichinofl

Total for street orderlies ...

Gross tut«il

56

278
32

866

4

3

2

2
none,
ditto

28

139
16

183

Rubbish.

CarU.

Employed in Yard.

2 machines, none.
2 „ :ditto.
4 ,, ditta

8

218

1

1

1

3 waggons.

3 carts.

1

3

2

3

3

1

2

o

ii :.

50 carts.
3 waggons.

262 ,107 jli:;2

13 I 5 I 15

25 S machines, j

60 9 !

none,
ditto,
ditto.

Men. Women. Children.

none,
ditto,
ditto.

578 jl79 carts. 167

I 3 waggons. I

15

167

16

89

none,
ditto,
ditto.

46

161
26

233

none,
ditto,
ditto.

16

48
10

Men. Carts.

Total employed at dust 366 183

„ „ scavenging 578 179

„ „ rubbish carting 167 167

„ (men, women, and children), in yard 396

Total employed in the removal of house and street refuse 1507 629

* The parishoft marked thus * h.ivc their dustmen and dust-earts, ta well as the. rubbish carting and the indi-
viduals in the dust-yard, reckoned in the numbers employed by the contractors.

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

215

gardi tlie quantity collected by the contracting
scaTengen (as shown in the table given at page
186), is, in round numbers, 89,000 cart-loads;
that collected by parish labour, with or without
the aid of the street-sweeping machines, at 52,000
cart-loads, or a total (I do not include what is
collected by the orderlies) of 141,000 loads.

This result shows, then, that the contractors
yearly collect by scaTenging the streets with their
own paid labourers, and receive as the produce of
pauper labour, as follows : —

Loads of
Street Dirt

Per
Load.: Total.

By Contractors
By Parishes . .

89,000
52,000

3*. £13,350
3*. 7,800

Total . .

141,000

I £21,150

or a value of rather more than 1113Z. as the re-
turn to each individual contractor in the table, or
about 255/. as the average on each contract.
As, however, the whole of the parish-collected
manure does not come into the hands of the
contractors, it will be fiiir, I am assured, to
compute the total at 19,000/., a sum of 1000/. to
each contractor, or nearly 229/. on each contract.

It would appear, then, that the total receipts of
the contractors for the scavenging of London
amount to very nearly 80,000/. ; that is to say,
10,000/. as remimeration for the office, and
20,000/. as the value of the dirt collected. But
against this sum as received, we have to let the
gross expense of wages paid to men, wear and
tear of carts and appliances, rent of wharfs,
interest for money, Ax.

Concerning the amount paid in wages, it ap-
pears by the table at pp. 186, 187, that the men
employed by the scavenging contractors in wet
weather, are 260 daily (being nearly half of
the whole force of 531 men, the orderlies
excepted). In dry weather, however, there are
only 194 men employed. I will therefore calcu-
late upon 194 men employed daily, and 66 em-
ployed half the year, making the total of 260. By
the table here given, it will be seen that the total
number of scavengers employed by the large and
small contractors, is 275.

Number of Men.

Weekly Wage.

Yearly.

194 (for 12 months)
66 (for 6 months)

16*. •
16*.

£8070 8*.
1372 16*.

Total . .

£9443 4*.

There remams now to show the amount of
capital which a large contractor mnst embark in
his business : I include the amount of rent, and the
expenditure on what must be provided for busi-
ness purposes, and which is subject to wear and
tear, to decay, and loss.

* I have computed all the weekly wages at 16*.,
though sonie of the men are paid only 14«. My object in
this & to give the coDtiacton the benefit of the difference

There are not now, I am told, more than twelve
scavengers' wharfs and 20 yards (the wharf being
also a yard) in the possession of the contractors in
regular work. These are the larger contractors,
and their capital, I am assured, may be thus esti-
mated : —

Capital op the Master Scavengers.

£

*.

d.

179 Carts, 21/. each

. 3,759

0

0

3 Waggons, 32/. each .

96

0

0

230 Horses, 25/. each

. 5,750

0

0

230 Sets of harness, 2/. each

. 460

0

0

600 Brooms, 9</. each

22

10

0

300 Shovels, Is. each

15

0

0

100 Barges, 50/. each

. 5,000

0

0

Total .

15,102

10

0

I have estimated according to what may be the
present value, not the original cost, of the imple-
ments, vehicles, &c A broom, when new, costs
1*. 2e/., and is worn out in two or three weeks.
A shovel, when new, costs 2*.

The following appears to be the

Tearlt Expenditure of the Master
soayskoirs.

£ s. d.

Wages to working scavengers (as
before shown) 9,443 0 0

Wages to 48 bargemen, engaged in
unloading the vessels with street-dirt,
4 men to each of 12 wharfs, at 16*.
weekly wage 1,996 0 0

Keep of 300 horses (26/. each) . 7,800 0 0

Wear and tear (say 15 per cent,
on. capital) 2,250 0 0

Rent of 20 wharfs and yards
(average 100/. each) . . . 2,000 0 0

Interest on 15,000/. capital, at 10
per cent 1,600 0 0

£24,989 0 0

I have endeavoured in this estimate to confine
myself, as much as possible,|to the separate subject
of scavengery, but it must be borne in mind that
as the large contractors are dustmen as well as
scavengers, the great charges for rent and barges
cannot be considered as incurred solely on account
of the street-dirt trade. Including, then, the pay-
ments from parishes, the account will stand
thus : —

Yearly Rbceipts op Master Scavengers.
From Parishes .... £9,450
From Manure, &c. . . . 19,000

Total Income .

Deduct yearly Expenditure

Profit

£28,450
25,000

£3,450

This gives a profit of nearly 182/. to each con-
tractor, if equally apportioned, or a little more
than 41/. on each contract for street-scavenging

216

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

alone, and a profit no doubt affected by circam-
stances which cannot verj well be reduced to
figures. The profit may appear small, but it should
be remembered that it is indeptndent of the profits
on the dust

Ov THE CoarTRACTOBs' (oR Emplotsbs')
Fbexises, &c.
At page 171 of the present volume I have do-
scribed one of the yards devoted to the trade in
house-dust, and I have little to say in addition
regarding the premises of the contracting or em-
ploying scavengers. They are the same places,
and the industrious pursuits carried on there, and
the division and subdivision of labour, relate far
more to the dustmen's department than to the
scavengers'. ^Vhen the produce of the sweeping
of the streets has been thrown into the cart, it is
■0 fiir ready for use that it has not to bo sifted or
prepared, as has the house-dust, for the formation
of brieze, &c., the ''mac " being sifted by the
purchaser.

These yards or wharfs are fiir less numerous
and better conducted now tlian they were ten
years ago. They are at present fast disappearing
from the banks of the Thames (there is, how-
ever, one still at Whitefriars and one at Milbank).
They arc chicHy to be found on the banks of the
canals. Some of the principal wharfs near
Maiden-lane, St. Pancras, arc to be found among
unpaven, or ill-paved, or imperfectly nmcadamized
roads, along which run rows of what were once
evidently pleasant suburban cottages, with their
green porches and their trained woodbine, clematis,
jasmine, or monthly roses; these tenements, how-
ever, arc now occupied chiefly by the labourers at
the adjacent stone, coal, lime, timber, dust, and
genenil wharfs. Some of the cottages still pre-
sented, on my visiti«, a blooming difcplay of dahlias
and other autumnal flowers ; and in one corner of
a very l.nrge and very black-looking dust-yard, in
which rose a hi:ge mound of dirt, was the cottage
residence of the man who remained in charge of
the wharf all night, and whose comforUible-look-
ing abode was embedded in flowers, blooming
luxuriantly. The gay-tinted holly-hocks and
dahlias are in striking contrast with the dinginess
of the dust-yards, while the canal flows along,
dark, sluggish, and muddy, as if to be in keep-
ing with the wharf it washes.

The dunt-yards must not be confounded with
the " night-yard?," or the places where the con-
tents of iho cesspools are deposited, places which,
since the passing of the Sanatory Act, are rapidly
disappearing.

Upon entering a dust-yard there is generally
found a heavy oppressive s« rt of atmosphere,
more especially in wet or damp weather. This is
owing to the tendency of charcoal to absorb gaseii,
and to part with them on being saturated with
moisture. The cinder-heaps of the several dust-
yards, with their million porea, are so many huge
gasometers retaining all the offensive gases arising
from the putrefying organic matters which usually
accompany them, and parting with such gases imme-
diately on a fall of rain. It would be a curious

calculation to estimate the quantity of deleterious
gas thus poured into the atmosphere after m
slight shower.

The question has been raised as to the propriety
of devoting some special locality to the purposes^
of dust-yards, and it is certainly a question de-
serving public attention.

The chief disposal of the street manure is from
barges, sent by the Thames or along the canals,
and sold to fiuiners and gardeners. In the larger
wharfs, and in those considered removed from
the imputation of " scnrfdom," six men, and often
bnt four, are employed to load a barge which
contains from 30 to 40 tons. In such cases the
dust-yard and the wharf are one and the same
place. The contents of these baiges are mixed,
about one-fourth being " mac," the rest street-mud
and dung. This admixture, on board the vessel,
is called by the bargemen and the contractors*
servants at the wharfs Leicester (properly La»ta,
a load). We have the same term at the end of
our word htX-lcut,

I am assured by a wharfinger, who has every
means of forming a correct judgment, it may
be estimated that there are dispatched from the
contractors' wharfs twelve barges daily, freighted
with strec;t-manure. This is independent of the
house-dust barged to the country brick-fields.
The weight of the eargo of a barge of manure
is about 40 tons; 36 tons being a low average.
This gives 3744 barge-loads, or 182,784 tons,
or loads, yearly ; for it must be recollected
that the dirt gathered by pauper labour is dis-
patched from the contractors* yards or wharfip,
as well as that collected by the immediate servants
of the contractors. The price per barge-load at
the canal, basin, or wharf, in the country parts
where agriculture flourishes, is from 5/. to 6/.,
making a total of 20,594/. The difference of that
sum, and the total given in the table (21,147/.)
may be accounted for on the supposition that the
remainder is sold in the yards and carted away
thence. The slop and valueless dirt is not included
in this calculation.

Of thh Working SoA.y£5GKRs uinsER tub

COSTRACTOBS.

I HAVE now to deal with what throughout the
whole course of my inquiry into the state of
London Labour and the London Poor I have con-
sidered the great object of investigation — the
condition and characteristics of the working men ;
and what is more immediately the '* labour ques-
tion," the relation of the labourer to his employer,
as to rates of payment, modes of payment, hiring
of labourers, constancy or inconstancy of work,
supply of hands, the many points concerning
wages, perquisites, family work, and parochial or
club relief.

First, I shall give an account of the class em-
ployment, together with the labour season aud
earnings of the labourers, or "economical" part of
the subject. I shall then pass to the social points,
concerning their homes, general expenditure,
&c., and then to the more moral and intellectual
questions of education, literature, politics, religion.

MMTDON LABOUR AND TBX LONJH>N POOM.

217

nmrriage, and eoncabinage of ike men and of their
faxnUiei. All this will refer, it should be remem-
bered, only to the working scaTngers in the
hononrable or better -paid trade; the cheaper
hbourers I shall treat separately as a distinct
dass; the details in both cases I shall illostiate
with the statement of men of the dui de-
scribed.

The first part of this multifarious subject apper-
tains to the division of labour. This in the
scavaging trade consists lather of that kind of
" gang- work " whicli Mr. Wakefield styles "simple
co-operation,^ or the working together of a number
of people at the same thing, as opposed to ''complex
co-operation,'* or the working together of a number
at different branches of the same thing. Simple
co-operation is of course the ruder kind ; but even
this, rude as it appears, is far from being bar-
baric "The savages of New Holland," we are
told, '* never help each other even in the most
simple operations ; and their condition is hardly
superior — ^in some respects it is inferior — to that
of the wild animals which they now and then
catch."

As an instance of the advantages of 'Simple
co-operation," Mr. Wakefield tells us that " in a
Tast number of simple operations performed by
human exertion, it is quite obvious that two men
working together will do more than four, or fonr
thnes four men, each of whom should work alone.
In the lifting of heavy weights, for example, in
the felling of trees, in the gathering of much hay
and com during a short period of fine weather,
in draining a large extent of land during the
short season when such a work rony bo properly
conducted, in the pulling of ropes on boni^ ship,
in the rowing of large boats, in some mining
operations, in the erectloii of a scaffolding for a
bm'lding, and in the breaking of stones for the
repair of a road, so that the whole road shall
always be kept in good repair— in all these
simple operations, and thousands more, it is
absolutely necessary that many persons should
work together at the same time, in the same place,
and in the same way."

To the above instances of simple co-operation,
or gang-working, as it may bo briefly styled in
Saxon English, Mr. Wakefield might have added
dock labour and scavaging.

The principle of complex co-operation, however,
is not entirely unknown in the public cleansing
trade. This business consists of as many branches
as there are distinct kinds of refuse, and these
appear to be four. There are,(l) the wet and (2)
the dry AotMe-Ssluse (or dust aid night-soil),
and (3) the wet and (4) the dry «frecr refuse (or
mad and rubbish) ; and in these four different
branches of the one general trade the principle
of complex co-operation is found commonly,
though not invariably, to prevail.

The diffsrence as to the chiss employments of
the general body of public cleansers — the dust-
men, street-sweepers, nightmen, and rubbish
carters — seems to be this: — any nightman will
work as a dnstman or scavager ; but it is not all
the dmttmai and scavagers who will work as

nightmen. The retson is almost obvious. The
aVMations of the dustman and the nightman are
in some degree hereditary. A rude man provides
for the fotore ipaintenanee of his sons in the way
which is most patent to his notice; he makes the
boy share in his own labonr, and grow np unfit
for anything else.

The regular working scavagers are then gene-
rally a distinct class from the working dustmen,
and are all paid by the week, while the dustmen
are paid by the load. In very wet weather, when
there is a great quantity of " slop " in the streets,
a dustman is often called upon to lend a helping
hand, and sometime when a working scavager
is out of employ, in order to keep himself firam
want, he goes to a "job of dust work," but sel-
dom from any other cause.

In a parish where there is a crowded popuUi-
tion, the dustman's labours consume, on an
average, from six to eight hours a day. In
scavagery, the average hours of daily work are
twelve (Sundays of course excepted), but they some-
times extended to fifteen, and even sixteen hours,
in places of great business trafiic; while in very
fino dry weather, the twelve hours may be
abridged by two, three, four, or even more. Thus
it is manifest that the consumption of time alone
preventi the same working men being simnltsp
neously dustmen and scavagers. In the more
remote and quiet parishes, however, and under the
management of the smaller contractors, the oppo-
site arrangement frequently exists; the operative is
a scavager one day, and a dustman the next This
is not the case in the busier districts, and with the
large contractors, unless exceptionally, or on an
emergency.

If the scavagers or dustmen have completed
their street and house labours in a shorter time
than usual, there is generally some sort of em-
ployment for them in the yards or wharfs of the
contractors, or they may sometimes avail them-
selves of their leisure to enjoy themselves in their
own way. In many parts, indeed, as I have
shown, the street-sweeping must bo finished by
noon, or earlier.

Concerning the division of labour, it may be
said, that the principle of complex co-operation in
the scavaging trade exists only in its rudest form,
for the characteristics distinguishing the labour of
the working scavagers are far from being of that
complicated nature common to many other callings.

As regards the act of sweeping or scraping the
streets, the labour is performed by the (jangaman
and his gang. The gangsman usually loads the
cart, and occasionally, when a number are em-
ployed in a district, acts as a foreman by superin-
tending them, and giving directions; he is a
working scavager, but has the office of over-
looker confided to him, and receives a higher
amount of wage than the others.

For the completion of the street-work there are
the one-horse carmen and the two-hor^ carmen,
who are also working scavagers, and so called
from their having to load the carts drawn by one
or two horses. These are the men who shovel
into the cart the dirt swept or scimped to one

No. XXXIX.

218

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOSL

^de of tbe public way by tbe gang (•ome of it
mere slop), and then drive the cart to its diMi-
nation, which is generally their masters yard.
Thus &r only does the streat-IaboV extend. The
carmen have the care of the vehicles in cleaning
them, greasing the wheels, and such like, but the
horses are usually groomed by stablemen, who are
not employed in the streets.

The division of labour, then, among the wink-
ing scavagers, may be said to be as follows : —

1st. The ffanffWf whose office it is to superin-
tend the gang, and shovel the dirt into the cart.

2nd. Thp gang, which consists of from three to
ten or twelve men, who swefp in a row and collect
the dirt in heaps ready for the ganger to shovel
into the cart.

8rd. The carman (one-horse or two-horse, as
the case may be), who attends to the horse and
eart, brushes the dirt into the ganger's shovel, and
assists the ganger in wet sloppy weather in cart-
ing the dirt, and then takes the mud to the place
where it is deposited.

There is only one mode qf payment for the above
labours pursued among the master scavagers, and
that if by the week.

Ist. The ganger receives a weekly salary of
18«. when working for an ** honourable " master ;
with a '* scurf," however, the ganger*s ft^ is but
ICt, a week.

2nd. The gang receive in a large establishment
Meh 16s. per week, but in a small one they usually
Mt from lis. to 15i. a week. When working
for a small master they have often, by working
over hours, to "make eight days to the week
instead of liz."

8rd. The one-horse carman receives 16s. a week
in a large, and 1 5s. in a small establishment.

4th. The two-horse carman receives IBs. weekly,
but is employed only by the larger masters.

On the opposite page I givo a table on this
point.

Some of these men are paid by the day, some
by the week, and some on Wednesdays and
Saturdays, perhaps in about equal proportions,
the " casuals " being mostly paid by the day, and
the regular hands (with some exceptions among
the scurfs) once or twice a week. The chance
hands are sometimes engaged for a half day,
and, as I was told, "jump at a bob and a joey
{Is. id.), or at a bob." 1 heard of one contractor
who not unfrequently said to any foreman or
gangsman who mentioned to him the applications
for work, '* 0, give the poor devils a turn, if it 's
only for a day now and then."

Ptece-ieork, or, as the scavagers call it, " by the
load," did at one time prevail, but not to any great
extent The prices varied, according to the nature
and the state of the road, from 2s. to 2s. 6d. the
load. The system of piece-work was never liked
by the men ; it teems to have been resorted to
less as a system, or mode of labour, than to insure
assiduity on the part of the working scavagers,
when a rapid street-cleansing was desirable. It
was rather in the favour of the working man's
individual emoluments than otherwise, as may be
shown in the following way. In Battle-bridge,

four men eoHeet five loads in dry, and six men
seven loads in wet weather. If the average
piece hire be 2«. 8<£. a load, it is 2*. 9|<£. for each
of the five men's day's work ; if 2s. 2d. a load, it
is 2s. Z\d. (the regular wage, and an extra half-
penny) ; if 2s., it is 2s. 6d, ; and if less (which
has bMB paid), the day's wage is not lower than
2s. At the lowest rates, however, the men, I
was informed, could not be induced to take the
necessary pains, as they vxtuld struggle to " make
up half-a-crown ; " while, if the streets were
scavaged in a slovenly maitner, the contractor
was sure to hear from his friends of the parish
that he was not acting np to his contract I
could not hear of any men now set to piece-work
within the precincts of the places specified in the
table. This extra work and scamping work are
the two great evils of the piece system.

In their payments to their men the contractors
show a superiority to the practices of some traders,
and even of some dock-companies — the men are
never paid at public-houses ; the payment, more-
over, is always in money. One contractor told
me that he would like all his men to be tee-
totallers, if he could get them, though he was not
one himself.

But these remarks refer only to the nominal
wages of the scavagers ; and I find the nominal
wages of operatives in many cases are widely dif-
ferent (either from some additions by way of
perquisites, &e., or deductions by way of fines,
&c., but oftener the latter) from the O/ctnal
wages received by them. Again, the average
wages, or gross yearly income of the casually-
employed men, are very diflSerent from thoae of
the constant hands; so are the gains of a par-
ticular individual often no criterion of the general
or average earnings of the trade. Indeed I find
that the several varieties of wages may be classi-
fied as follows : —

1. Nominal Wages. — Those said to be paid in
a trade.

2. Actual Wanes. — Those really received, and
which are equal to the nominal wages, jtlus
the additions to, or miatci the deductions from,
them.

3. Casual H'a^j.— The earnings of the men
who are only occasionally employed.

4. Average Casual or Consiant Wages. — Those
obtained throughout the year by such as are
either occasionally or regularly employed.

6. Individual Wages. — Those of particular
hands, whether belonging to the scurf or honour-
able trade, whether working long or short hours,
whether partially or fully empWfsd, and the like.

6. General Wages.—Or the average wages of
the whole trade, constant or casual, fully or par-
tially employed, honourable or scurf, long and
short hour men, &c., &c, all lumped together and
tbe mean taken of the whole.

Now in the preceding account of the working
scavagers' mode and rate of payment I have
spoken only of the nominal wages ; and in order
to arrive at their actual wages we must, as we
have seen, ascertain what additions and what
deductions are generally made to and kom this

mNDOS J^BOUR AND THE LONDON POOH

219

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220

LONDOSr LABOUR AND THE LOWBOF PO&k.

amount. Tlie deduction! in the honourable tnde
are, m usual, inconvidenible.

All the tooU used by operatifv scavagers are
supplied to them by their employers — the tools
beins^ only brooms and ehovels; and for this
•upply there are no stoppa^ to cover the ex-
pense.

Neither by Jina nor by way of McunVy an
the men's wnges reduced.

The truck sifsUvt, moreover, is unknown, and
bos never prevailed in the trade. I heard of only
one instance of an approach to it. A yard fore-
man, tome years ago, who bad a great deal of
influence wiih his employer, hnd a chandler's-
■hop, managed by his wife, and it was broadly
intimated to the men that they must make their
purchases there. Complaints, however, were
made to the contractor, and the foreman dis-
missed. One man of whom I inquired did not
even know what the " truck system** meant ; and
when informed, thought they were " pretty safe "
from it, as the contractor had nothing which he
eoiUd truck with the men, and if *' he polls us
hiaself," the man said, '*he's not likely to let
anybody else do it."

There are, moreover, no trade-payments to which
the men are subjected ; there are no trade-societies
among the working men, no benefit nor sick clubs ;
neither do parochial relief and family labour
characterize the regular hands in the honourable
trade, although iu sickness they may have no other
resource.

Indeed, the working scavagers employed by
tlie more honourable portion of the trade, instead
of having any deductions made from their nominal
wages, have rather additions to them in the form of
perquisites coming from the public. These perqui-
sites consist of allowances of beer-money, obtained
in the same manner as the dustmen — not through
the medium of their employers (though, to say
the least, through their sulFerance), but from the
householders of the parish in which their labours
are prosecuted.

The scavagers, it seems, are not required to
sweep any places considered " private," nor even
to sweep the puMic fuot-paths ; and when they do
sweep or carry away the refuse of a butcher's
premises, for instanoe — for, by law, the butcher is
required to do so himself — they receive a gratuity.
In the contract entered into by the city sca-
vagers, it is expressly covenanted that no men
employed shall accept gratuities from the house-
holders; a condition little or not at all reg:irded,
though I am told that these gratuities become less
every year. I am informed also by an ex-
perienced hutchor, who had at one time a private
slaughter-house in the Borou;»h, that, until within
these six or seven years, he thought the sca-
vagers, and even the dustmen, would carry away
entrails, &c., in the carts, from the butcher's and
the knacker's premises, for an allowance.

I cannot learn that the contractors, whether of
the honourable or scurf tnidc, take any advantage
of these " allowances." A working scavager re-
ceives the same wage, when he enjoys what I
heard called in another trade "the height of

perquisiteey** or is employed in a locality when
then an no such additions to his wages. I
believe, however, that the contracting seavagen
let their best and steadiest hands have the best
perquisited work.

Thaw perquisites, I am assured, annwe from Is.
to 2«. a week, but one butcher told me he thought
It. 6d, might be rather too high an avenge, for a
pint of beer {2d.) was the customary ram given,
and that was, or ought to be, divided among the
gang. ** In my opinion," he said, " then 11 be
no allowances in a year or two." By the amooBt
of these perquisites, then, the scavagers' gaini an
so far enhanced.

The wages, therefore, of an operative scavager
in full employ, and workbg for the " honouEable"
portion of the trade, may he thus expressed : —

Nominal weekly wages . .18s.

Perquisites in the form of alloMrancet
for beer fnm the public . . . . 2i.

Actual weekly wages .

18*.

Of TBI " Casual Eavds " amoso thi

SOATAOEBS.

Or the scavagers proper then an, as in all
classes of un^Lilled labour, that is to say, of
labour which nquires no pnvious appnnticeship,
and to which any one can " turn his hand " on an
emei^ncy, two distinct orders of workmen, " the
reffulars and casuals " to adopt the trade terms ;
that is to say, the labourers consist of those
who have been many yean at the trade, con-
stantly employed at it, and those who have but
Kcently taken to it as a means of obtaining a
subsistence after their ordinary resources have
failed. This mixture of constant and casual hands
is, moreover, a necessary consequence of ail trades
which depend upon the seasons, and in which an
additional number of labourers an required at
different periods. Such is necessarily the case
with dock labour, where an easterly wind pre-
vailing for several days deprives thousands of
trort, and when the change from a foul to a fair
wind causes an equally inordinate demand for
workmen. The same temporary increase of employ-
ment takes place in the agricultural districts at
harvesting time, and the same among the hop
growers in the picking season ; and it will be
hereafter seen that there are the same labour
fluctuations in the scavaging trade, a greater or
lesser number of hands Wing required, of course,
according as the season is wet or dry.

This occasional increase of employment, though
a benefit in some few cases (as enabling a man
suddenly deprived of his ordinary means of living
to obtain " a job of work " until he can " turn
himself round"), is generally a most alarming
evil in a State. What an the casmil hands to do
when the extra employment ceases 1 Those who
have paid attention to the subject of dock labour
and the subject of casual labour in general, may
form some notion of the vast mass of misery
that must be generally existing in London. The

MVDOir JUBOUR AND THE LONDON POOB.

221

gofajeet of liop-pidLing again belongs l» IIm nme
question. Here are thouiands of the very purest
emplojed only for a few days in the year. iT^hat,
the mind naturally asks, do they after their
short term of honest independence has ceased?
With dock labour the poor man's bread depends
upon the rery winds ; in scaTUging and in
street life generally it depends upon the rain; and
in market-gardening, harvesting, hop^iieking^ and
the like, it depends upon the sunshine. How-
many thousands in this huge metropolis have to
look immediately to the very elements for their
bread, it is overwhelming to contemplate; and
yet, with all this fitlulness of employment we
wonder that an extended knowledge of reading
and writing does not produce a decrease of crime !
We should, however, ask ourselves whether men
can stay their hunger with alphabets or grow fat
on spelling books ; and wanting employment, and
consequently food, and objecting to the incarcera-
tion, of the workhouse, can we be astonished —
mdeed is it not a natural law — that they should
help themselves to the property of others 1

Concerning the " regular hands '* of the con-
tracting scavagers, it may, perhaps, be reasonable
to compute that little short of one-half of them
have been '' to the manner bom." The others
are, as I have said, what these regular hands
can " casuals," or " casualties." As an instance
of the peculiar mixture of the regular and casual
hands in the scavaging trade, I may state that
one of my informants told me he had, at one
period, under his immediate direction, fourteen
men, of whom the former occupations had been
aa follows : —

7 Alvrayi Scavagers (or dustmen, and six
of them nightmen when required).

1 Pot-boy at a public-house (but only as a boy).

1 Stable-man (also nightman).

1 Formerly a pugiUst, then a showman's as-
sistant

1 Navvy.

1 Ploughman (nightman occasionally).

2 Unknown, one of them saying, but gaining

no belief that he had once been a gentle-

14

In my account of the street orderlies will be
given an interesting and elaborate statement of
the former avocations, the habits, expenditure,
&c., of a body of street-sweepers, 67 in number.
This table will be found very curious, as showing
what dasset of men have been driven to street-
sweeping, but it will not furnish a criterion of
the character of the '* regular hands " employed
by the contractors.

The "casuals" or the "casualties" (always called
among the men " cazzelties "), may be more pro-
perly described as men whose employment is ac-
cidental, chanceful, or uncertain. The regular
hands of the scavagers are apt to designate any
new comer, even for a permanence, any sweeper

not reared to or rersed in the business, a casual
("easier). I shall, however, here deal with the
" casual hands," not only as hands newly intro<
duced into the trade, but as men of chanceful
and irregular employment

These persons are now, I understand, numerous
in all branches of unskilled labour, willing to un-
dertake or attempt any kind of work, but perhaps
there is a greater tendency on the part of the
surplus unskilled to turn to scavaging, from the
bici that any broken-down man seems to aeoount
himself competent to sweep the streets.

To ascertain the number of these casual or out-
side kboureta in the scavaging trade is difficult,
for, as I have said, they are willing in their need
to attempt any kind of work, and so may be
"casuals" in dirers departments of unskilled
labour.

I do not think that I can better approximate
the number of casuals than by quoting the opinion
of a contracting scavager familiar with his work-
men and their ways. He considered that there
were always nearly as many hands on the look-out
for a Job in the streets, as there were regularly
employed at the business by the large contractors;
this I have shown to.be 262, let us estimate there-
fore the number of casuals at 200.

According to the table I have given at pp. 218,
214, the number of men regularly or constantly
employed at the metropolitan trade is as fol-
lows : —

Scavagers employed by large contractors . 262
Ditto small contractors . . • 18

Ditto machines 25

Ditto parishes 218

Ditto street-orderlies .... 60

Total working scavagers in London . 578 •

But the prior table given at pp. 186, 187,
shows the number of scavagers employed through-
out the metropolis in wet and dry weather (sv-
dtuive qf the gtreet-orderliet) to be as follows :—

Scavagers employed in wet weather
Ditto in dry weather •

Difference

581
858

178

Hence it would appear that about one-third less
hands are required m the dry than in the wet
season of the year. The 170 hands, then, dis-
charged in the dry season are the casually em-
ployed men, but the whole of these 170 are not
turned adrift inMnediately they are no longer
wanted, some being kept on " odd jobs" in the
yard, &c ; nor can that nnmber be said to repre-
sent the entire amount of the surplus labour in
the trade ; but only that portion of it which does
obtain even casual employment After much
trouble, and taking the average of various state-
ments, it would appear that the number of
casualty or quantity of occasional surplus labour
in the scavaging trade may be represented # -
between 200 and 250 hands.

The scavaging trade, however, is not, I am in-
formed, so overstocked with labooren now aa it

822

LONDOy LABOUR AND TEB LONDON POOR,

was fonnerly. Seven yean ago, and firom that to
ten, there were uanallj between 200 and 800
bands out of work ; this was owing to there being
a less extent of pared atreeti, and comparatively
few contractort; the tcaTngtag work, moreover,
waa ** icamped,** the men, to use their own
phrase, •' licking the work over any how," so that
fewer hands were required. Now, however,
the inhabitants are more particular, I am told,
'' about the crooks and comers," and require the
itreets to be swept oftener. Formerly a gang of
operative scavagers would only collect six loads
of dirt a day, but now a gang will collect nine
loads daily. The causes to which the surplus of
labourers at present may be attributed are, I
find, as follows : — Each operative has to do nearly
double the work to what he formerly did, the extra
cleansing of the streets having tended not only to
employ more hands, but to make each of those
employed do more work. The result has, how-
ever been followed by an increase in the wages of
the operatives ; seven years ago the labourers re-
ceived but 2«. a day, and the ganger 2t, 6d,, but
DOW the labourers receive 2t, Bd, a day, and the
ganger 8#.

In the city the men have to work Tery long
hours, sometimes as many as 18 hours a day with-
out any extra pay. This pmctice of overworking
it, I find, carried on to a great extent, even with
those master scavagers who pay the regular
wages. One man told me that when he worked
for a certain hirge master, whom he named, he has
many times been out at work 28 hours in the wet
(saturated to the skin) without having any rest.
This plan of overworking, again, is generally
adopted by the small masters, whose men, after
they have done a regular day's hibour, are set to
work in the yard, sometimes toiling 18 hours a
day, and usually not less than 16 hours daily.
Often so tired and weary are the men, that when
they rise in the morning to pursue their daily
labour, they feel as fatigued as when they went to
bed. '• Fpcquently," said one of my informants,
"have I gone to bed so worn out, that I haven't been
able to sleep. However " (he added), " there is the
work to be done, and we must do it or be off."

This system of overwork, especially in those
trades where the quantity of work to be done is
in a measure fixed, I find to be a far more in-
fluential cause of surplus hibour than " over
population." The mere number of labourers in a
trade is, ptr le, no criterion as to the quantity of
labour employed in it ; to arrive at this three
things are required : —

(1) The number of hands ;

(2) The hours of labour;

(3) The rate of labouring ;

for it is a mere point of arithmetic, that if the
hands in the scavaging trade work 18 hours a day,
there must bo one-third less men employed than
there otherwise would, or in other words one-
third of the men who are in work must be thus
^prived of it This is one of the crying evils of
the day, and which the economisU, filled as they
are with their over-population theories, have en-
tirely overiooked.

Thera «re 262 men employed in the Hetropo*
litan ScaTaging Trade ; one-half of these at the
least may be said to work 16 hours per diem in-
stead of 12, or one-third longer than they should ;
so that if the hoars of labour in this trade were
restricted to the usual day's work, there would be
employment for one-iixth more bands, or nearly
50 individuals extra.

The other causes of the present amoont of tur-
plus labotur are —

The many hands thrown out of employment by
the discontinuance of railway works.

A less demand for unskilled labour in agricul-
tural districts, or a smaller remuneration for it

A less demand for some branches of labour (as
ostlers, &c), by the introduction of machinery
(applied to roads), or through the caprices of
fiuhion.

It should, however, be remembered, that men
often found their opinions of such causes on pre-
judices, or express them according to their class
interests, and it is only a few employers of un-
skilled labourers who care to inquire into the
antecedent drcumstancet of men who ask for
work.

As regards the population part of the question,
it cannot be said that the surplus labour of the
scavaging trade is referable to any inordinate in-
crease in the fiunilies of the men. Those who are
married appear to have, on the avenge, four chil-
dren, and about one-half of the men have no family
at all. Karly marriages are by no means usual
Of the casual hands, however, full three-fourths
are married, and one-half have fiunilies.

There are not more than ten or a dozen Irish
labourers who have taken to the scavaging, though
several have " tried it on ;" the regular hands say
that the Irish are too lazy to continue at the trade;
but surely tlie labour of the hodman, in which
the Irish seem to delight, is sufficient to disprove
this assertion, be the cause what it may. About
one-fourth of the scavagen entering the sca-
vaging trade as casual hands have been agricul-
tural labouren, and have come up to London from
the several agricultural districts in quest of work ;
about the some proportion appear to have been
connected with horaes, such as ostlers, carmen,
&c.

The hiisl: and slack ttasons in the scavaging
trade depend upon the state of the weather. In
the depth of winter, owing to the shortness of
the days, more hands are usually required for
street cleansing; but a "clear frost" rcndera the
scavager's labour in little demand. In the win-
ter, too, his work is generally the hardest, and
the hardest of all when there is snow, which soon
becomes mud in London streets; and though a
continued frost is a sort of lull to the scavagen'
labour, after " a great thaw " his strength is taxed
to the uttermost; and then, indeed, new hands
have had to be put on. At the West End, in the
height of the summer, which is usually the height
of the fashionable season, there is again a more
than usual requirement of scavaging industry in
wet weather ; but perhaps the greatest exercise of
such industry is after a series of the fogs peculiar

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

223

to the London atmosphere, when the men cannot
t«e to sweep. The table I have given shows the
influence of the weather, as on wet days 631 men
are employed, and on dry days only 358; this, how-
eirer, does not inflQcnce the Street-Orderly system,
as under it the men are employed every day, un-
lets the weather make it an actual impossibility.

According to the rain table given at p. 202,
there would appear to be, on an average of 23
years, 178 wet days in London out of the 365,
that is to say, about 100 in every 205 days are
** rainy ones." The months having the greatest
and least number of wet days are as follows : —

No. ofdavsin
the month in

which rain

falls.

December . . . .

17

July, August, October .

16

February, May, November

15

January, April

14

March, September .

12

June

11

Hence it would appear that June is the least and
December the most showery month in the course
of the year ; the greatest quantity of rain fiiUing
in any month is, however, in October, and the
least quantity in March. The number of wet
days, and the quantity of rain fiUling in each half
of the year, may be expressed as follows : —

Total

Total In depth

No. of of rain

wet fallinf;

days, in inches.

The first six months in the year

ending Jnne there are . .84 10
The second six months in the

year ending December there are 93 14
Hence we perceive that the quantity of work for
the scavagers would fluctuate in the first and
last half of the year in the proportion of 10 to 14,
which is very nearly iiTthe ratio of 358 to 581, which
are the numbers of liands given in table pp. 186,
187, as those employed in wet and dry weather
throughout the metropolis.

If, then, the labour in the scavaging trade
varies in the proportion of 5 to 7, that is to say,
that 5 hands are re<^iured at one period and 7 at
another to execute^ the work, the question con-
sequently becomes, how do the 2 casuals who
are discharged (mt of every 7 obtain their living
when the wet season is overl

When a scavager is out of employ, he seldom
or never applies to the parish ; this he does, I am
informed, only when he is fiiirly "beaten out"
through sickness or old age, for the men " hate
the thought of going to the big house " (the union
workboose). An unemployed operative scavager
wiU go from yard to yard and offer his services
to do anything in the dust trade or any other
kind of employment in connection with dust or
scavaging.

Qenerally speaking, an operative scavager who
is easoally employed obtains work at that trade
for six or eight months during the year, and the re-
maimng portion of hit time is occupied either at

rubbish-carting or brick-carting, or else he geti a
job for a month or two in a dusVynrd.

Many of these men seem to form a body of
street-jobbers or operative labourers, ready to work
at the docks, to be navvies (when strong enough),
bricklayers' labourers, street-sweepers, carriers of
trunks or parcels, window-cleaners, errand-goers,
porters, and (occasionally) nightmcn. Few of
the cUiss seem to apply themselves to trading, as
in the costermonger line. They are the loungers
about the boundaries of trading, but seldom take
any onward steps. The street-sweeper of this
week, a "casual" hand, maybe a rubbish-carter
or a labourer about buildings the next, or he may
be a starving man for days together, and the more
he is starving with the less energy will he exert
himself to obtain work : "it 's not in" a starving
or ill-fed roan to exert himself otherwise than
what may be called passively ; this is well known
to all who have paid attention to the subject. The
want of energy and carelessness begotten by want
of food was well described by the tinman, at p.
355 in vol. i.

One casual band told me that last year he was
out of work altogether three months, and the year
before not more than six weeks, and during the six
weeks he got a day's work sometimes nt rubbish
carting and sometimes at loading bricks. Their
wives are often employed in the yards as sifters,
and their boys, when big enough, work also at
the heap, either in carrying off, or else as fillers-
in ; if there are any girls, one is generally left at
home to look after the rest and get the meals
ready for the other members of the family. If
any of the children go to school, they are usually
sent to a ragged school in the neighbourhood,
though they seldom attend the school more than
two or three times during the week.

The additional hands employed in wet weather
are either men who at other times work in the
yards, or such as have their " turns " in street-
sweeping, if not regularly employed. There ap-
pears, however, to be little of system in the
arrangement If more hands are wanted, the
gangsman, who receives his orders from the con-
tractor or the contractor's managing man, is told
to put on so many new hands, and over-night he
has but to tell any of the men at work that Jack,
and Bob, and Bill will be wanted in the morning,
and they, if not employed in other work, appear
accordingly.

There is nothing, however, which can bo desig-
nated a labour marht appertaining to the trade.
No " house of call," no trade society. If men
seek such employment, they must aj>ply at the
contractor's premises, and I am assured that poor
men not unfrequently ask the scavagers whom
they see at work in the streets where to apply
" for a job," and sometimes receive gruff or abusive
replies. But though there is nothing like a labour
market in the scavager's trade, the employers have
not to " look out " for men, for I was told by one
of their foremen, that he would undertake, if
necessary, which it never was, by a mere " round
of the docks," to select 200 new hale men, of all
datsei, and strong ones, too, if properly fed, who

224

LONDOir LABOUR AND TEB LONDON POOR.

in a few dayi would be tolenble street^weepen.
It is a calling to which agricnltnral labourers are
;lad to resort, and a calling to which any
abonrer or any mechanic may resort, more espe-
cially as regards sweeping or scraping, apart from
shovelling, which is regarded as something like
the high art of the business.

We now come to estimate the earnings of the
casual hands, whose yearly incomes must, of
course, be very different from those of the regu-
lars. The consUnU weekly wages of any work-
man are of course the average of his casual — and
hence we sh^ find the wages of those who are
regularly employed far exceed those of the occo-
tUmaUy employed men : —

£ «. d.
Nominal yearly wages at scavagbg
for 25 weeks in the year, at 16j.

per week 20 16 0

Perquisites for 26 weeks, at 2f . . 2 12 0

Actual yearly wages at scavagmg . 23 8 0
Nominal and actual weekly wages

at rubbish carting for 20 weeks in

the year, at 12#. . . . 12 0 0
Unemployed six weeks in the year . 0 0 0

Gross yearly earnings . . . 85 8 0

Arerage casual or constant weekly

wages throughout the year . . 15 4)

Hence the difference between the earnings of
the casual and the regular hand would appear to
be one-sixth. But the great evil of all casual
labour is the uncertainty of the income — for where
there is the greatest chance connected with an em-
ployment, there is not only the greatest necessity
for providence, but unfortunately the greatest ten-
dency to improvidence. It is only when a num's
income becomes regular and fixed that he grows
thrifty, and lays by for the future ; but where all
is chance-work there is but little ground for rea-
soning, and the accident which assisted the man
out of his difficulties at one period is continu-
ally expected to do the same good turn for him at
another. Hence the casual hand, who passes
the half of the year on 1S«., and twenty weeks
on 12«., and tix weeks on nothing , lives a life of
excess both ways — of excess of ** guzzling" when
in work, and excess of privation when out of it —
oscillating, as it were, between surfeit and starv-
ation.

A man who had worked in an iron-foundry,
but who had " lost his work *' (I believe through
some misconduct) and was glad to get employment
as a street-sweeper, as he had a good recommenda-
tion to a contractor, told me that *' the misery of
the thing" was the want of regular work. " I *ve
worked," he said, "for a good master for four
months an end at 2s. %d, a day, and they were prime
times. Then I hadn't a stroke of work for a
fortiii^rht, and very little for two months, and if
my wife hadn't had middling work with a laimdress
we might have starved, or I might have made a
hole in the Thames, for it *s no good living to be
miserable and feel you can't help yourself any

how. We was sometimes half-starved, as it was.
I 'd rather at this minute have regular work at
10s. a week all the year round, than haTe chance-
work that I could earn 20s. a week at I once
had \bs. in relief from the parish, and a doctor to
attend us, when my wife and I was both laid up
sick. 0, there 's no difference in the way of doing
the work, whatever wages you 're on for; the
streets must be swept clean, of course. The plan 's
the same, and there 's the same fort of manage-
ment, any how."

StATEVSVT of a '^RlOU&lB SOAYAOIB."

Thi following statement of his business, his
sentiments, and, indeed, of the subjects which
concerned him, or about which he was questioned,
was given to me by a street-sweeper, so he
called himself, for I have found some of these
men not to relish the appellation of '' scavager."
He was a short, sturdy, somewhat red-fiiced man,
without anything particular in his appearance to
distinguish him from the mass of mere labourers,
but with the sodden and sometimes dogged look of
a man contented in his ignorance, and — for it is
not a very uncommon case — rather proud of it

" I don't know how old I am," he said — I hare
observed, by the by, that there is not any exeet-
sive vulgarity in these men's tones or accent so
much as grossness in some of their expressions—
" and I can't see what that consams any one, as
I's old enough to have a jolly rough beard, and so
can take care of myself. I should think so. Hy
fiither was a sweeper, and I wanted to be a water-
man, but &ther — ^he hasn't been dead long^«-
didn't like the thoughts on it, as he said they
was all drownded one time or 'nother; so I ran
away and tried my hand as a Jack-in-the-water,

but I was starved back in a week, and got a h

of a clouting. After that I sifted a bit in a
dust-yard, and helped in any way; and I was
sent to help at and lam honey-pot and other
pot making, at Deptford ; bat honey-pots was a
great thing in the business. Master's fore-
man married a relation of mine, some wny or
other. I never tasted honey, but I 've heered it's
like sugar and butter mixed. The pots
was often wanted to look like foreign pots; I
don't know nothing what was meant by it ; some

b dodge or other. No, the trade didn't suit

me at all, master, so I lefL I don't know why
it didn't suit me ; cause it didn't. Just then,
father had hurt his hand and arm, in a jam again'
a cart, and so, as I was a big lad, I got to take his

place, and gave every satisfaction to Mr. .

Yes, he was a contractor and a great man. I
can't say as I knows how contracting 's done;
but it 's a bargain atween man and man. So I
got on. I 'm now looked on as a stunning good
workman, I can tell you.

" Well, I can't say as I thinks sweeping the
streets is hard work. I 'd rather sweep two hours
than shovel one. It tires one 's arms and back so,
to go on shovelling. You can't change, you see, sir,
and the same parts keeps gettbg gripped more and
more. Then you must mind your eye, if you 're

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

225

sboTelliog slop into a cart, perticler to ; or some
fiBllsr may nm off with a complaint that he *8 been
•plaabed o' purpose. Is a man ever splashed o'
purpoael No, sir, not as I knows on, in coorse
not [Langhing.] Why should he )

" The streets must be done as they 're done now.
It always was so, and will always be so. Did I ever
hear what Iiondon streets were like a thousand
yean ago] It's nothing to me, but they must
have been like what they is now. Tes, there
was always streets, or how was people that has
tin to get their coals taken to them, and how was
the public-houses to get their beer 1 It 's talking
nonsense^ talking that way, a-askingsich questions."
[As the scavager seemed likely to lose his tem-
per, I changed the subject of conversation.]

" Yes," he continaed, " I have good Ileal th.
I never had a doctor but twice ; once was for a
hut, and the t'other I won't tell on. Well, I
think nightwork '» healthful enough, but I '11 not
say so much for it as you may hear some on 'em
say. I don't like it, but I do it when I 's ob-
ligated under a necessity. It pays one as over-
work ; and werry like more one 's in it, more one
may be soitod. I reckon no men works harder
nor ncfa as me. 0, as to poor journeymen tailors
and sich like, I knows they 're stunning badly off,
and many of their masters is the hardest of beg-
gars. I have a nephew as works for a Jew slop,
bttt I don't reckon that tcork ; anybody might do
it You think not, sirl Werry well, it's all
tlie nme. No, I won't say as I could make a
* veskit, but I 've sowed my own buttons on to
one tdore now.

'* Yes, I 've heered on the Board of Health.
They 've put down some night-yards, and if they
goei on putting down more, what 's to become of
the nigh^soil? I can't think what they 're up to;
but if they don't touch wages, it may be all
right in the end on it I don't know that them
there consams does touch wages, but 0ne 's nate-
ndly afeard on 'am. I could read a little when I
was a child, but I can't now for want of practice,
or I might know more about it. I yams my
money gallows hard, and requires support to do
hard work, and if wages goes down, one 's strength
goes down. I'm a man as understands what
things belongs. I was once out of work, through
a mistake, for a good many weeks, perhaps five
or six or more; I lamed then what short grub
meant I got a drop of beer and a crust some-
timei with men as I knowed, or I might have
dropped in the street What did I do to pass my
time when I was out of work 1 Siirtinly the days
seemed wery long ; but I went about and called at
dust-yards, till I diidn't like to go too often ; and
I met men I know'd at tap-rooms, and spent time
that way, and axed if there was any openings for
work. I've been out of collar odd weeks now
and then, but when this happened, I'd been
on slack work a. goodish bit, and was bad for
rent three weeks and more. My rent was 2s. a
week then; its Is. 9d. now, nnd my own traps.

"No, I can't say I was sorry when I was
forced to be idle that way, that I hadn't kept up
my reading, nor tried to keep it up, because I

couldn't then have settled down my mind to
read ; I know I couldn't I likes to hear the
paper read well enough, if I's resting; but old
Bill, as often wolunteers to read, has to spell the
hard words so, that one can't toll what the
devil he 's reading about I never hecrs anything
about books ; I never heered of Robinson Crusoe,
if it wasn't once at the Wic. [Victoria Theatre] ;
I think there was some sich a name there. He
lived on a deserted island, did he, sir, all by his-
self ] Well, I think, now you mentions it, I have
heered on him. But one needn't believe all one
hears, whether out of books or not I don't know
much good that ever anybody as I knows ever got
out of books; they're fittest for idle people.
Sartinly I've seen working people reading in
coffee-shops; but they might as well be resting
theirselves to keep up their strength. Do I think
so ] I 'm sure on it, master. I sometimes spends
a few browns a-going to the play ; mostly about
Christmas. It's werry fine and grand at the
Wic, that 's the place I goes to most ; both the
pantomimers and t' other things is werry stun-
ning. I can't say how much I spends a year in
pbys ; I keeps no account ; perhaps 5s. or so in a
year, including expenses, sich as beer, when one
goes out after a stopper on the stage. I don't
keep no accounts of what I gets, or what I
spends, it would be no use ; money comes and it

goes, and it often goes a d d sight ^ter than

it comes; so it seems to me, though I ain't in
debt just at this time.

" I never goes to any church or chapel. Some-
times I hasn't clothes as is fit, and I s'pose I
couldn't be admitted into sich fine places in my
working dress. I was once in a church, but felt
queer, as one does in them strange places, and
never went again. They're fittest for rich people.
Yes, I've heered about religion and about God
Almighty. What religion have I heered on?
Why, the regiUar religion. I'm satisfied with
what I knows and feels about it, and that'f
enough about it I came to tell you about trade

and work, because Mr. told me it might do

good; but religion hasn't nothing to do with it

Yes, Mr. s a good master, and a religious

man; but I've known masters as didn't care a
d — n for religion, as good as him ; and so you
see it comes to much the same thing. I cares
nothing about politics neither ; but I 'm a chartist.

" I 'ni not a married man. I was a-going to be
married to a young woman as lived with me a
goodish bit as my housekeeper" [this he said very
demurely]; "but she went to the hopping to
yam a few shillings for herself, and never came
back. I heered that she'd taken up with an
Irish hawker, but I can't say as to tlie rights on
it Did I fret about her? Perhaps not; but I
was wexed.

" I 'm sure I can't say what I spends my wages
in. I sometimes makes 12^. 6d. a week, and
sometimes better than 21 «. with night- work. I
suppose grub costs Is. a day, and beer 6d. ; but I
keeps no accounts. I buy ready -cooked meat;
often cold b'iled beef, and eats it at any tap-room.
I have meat every day ; mostly more than once a

LONDOir LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR,

dfty. Wegetablet I don't care aboat, only ingans
and cabbage, if you can get it smoking hot, with
plenty of pepper. The rest of my tin goes for
rent and baccy and togs, and a little drop of gin
now and then."

The statement I have given is sufficiently ex-
plicit of the general opinions of the "regular
•cavagerg" concerning literature, politics, and
religion. On these subjects the great nuijority of
the regular scavngers have no opinions at all, or
opinions distorted, even when the facts seem clear
and obvious, by ignorance, often united with its
nearest of kin, prejudice and suspiciousneu. I
am inclined to think, however, that the man
whose narrative I noted down was more dogged
in hij ignorance than the body of his fellows.
All the intelligent men with whom I conversed,
and whose avocations had made them familiar for
yean vrith this class, concurred in representing
them as grossly ignorant.

This description of the scavagcrs* ignorance,
&c., it must be remembered, applies only to the
"regular hands." Those who have joined the
ranks of the street-sweepers from other callings are
more intelligent, and sometimes more temperate.

The system of concubinage, with a great de-
gree of fidelity in the couple living together with-
out the sanction of the law — such as I bare
described as prevalent among the •costermongera
and dustmen — is also prevalent among the reguhir
leaTagerf.

I did not hear of habitual unkindnesa from the
parents to the children bom out of wedlock,
but there is habitual neglect of all or much which
a child should be taught — a neglect growing out of
ignorance. I heard of two scavagers with large
^milies, of whom the treatment was sometimes
very harsh, and at others mere petting.

Education, or rather the ability to read nnd
write, is not common among the adults in this
calling, 80 that it cannot be expected to be found
among their children. Some labouring men,
ignorant themselves, but not perhaps constituting
a class or a clique like the regular scavagers, try
hard to procure for their children the knowledge,
the want of which tliey usuiil'y think has barred
their own progress in life. Other ignorant men,
mixing only with " their own sort," as is generally
the case witli the regular scavagers, and in the
several branches of the business, often think and
eay that what tluif did without their children
could do without also. I even heard it said by
one scavager that it wasn't right a child should
ever think himself wiser than his father. A man
who knew, in the way of his business as a private
contractor for night- work, &c., a great many
regular scavagers, " ran them over," and came to
the conclusion that about four or five out of
twenty could read, ill or tolerably well, and about
three out of forty could write. He told me, more-
over, that one of the most intelligent fellows gene-
rally whom he knew among them, a man whom
he had heard read well enough, and always un-
derstood to be a tolerable writer, the other day
brought a letter from his son, a soldier abroad with
his rfgifficut in Lower Canada, and requested my

informant It read it to him, as "that kind of
writing," although plain enough, waa "beyond
him." The son, in writing, had arailed himself
of the superior skill of a corporal in his company,
so that the letter, on fiimily matters and feelinn,
was written by deputy and read by deputy. The
costermongers, I have shown, when themselvea un-
able to read, have evinced a fondness for listening
to exciting stories of courts and aristocracies, and
have even bought penny periodicals to have their
contents read to them. The scavagers appear to
hare no taste for this mode of enjoying them-
selves ; but then their leisure is far more circum-
scribed than that of the costermongers.

It must be borne in mind that I have all along
spoken of the regular (many of them hereditary)
scavagers employed by the more liberal contractors.

There are yet accounts of habitations, state-
ments of wages, &c., &&, to be given, in connection
with men working for the honourable masters,
before proceeding to the senrftrederi.

The working scavagers usually reside in the
neighbourhood of the dusVyards, occupying "second-
floor backs," kitchens (where the entire house is
sublet, a system often fraught with great extor-
tion), or garrets ; they usually, and perhaps always,
when married, or what they consider " as good,"
have their own furniture. The rent runs from
1;. 6(/. to 25. Zd, weekly, an average being 1<. %d,
or \s. 10</. One room which I was in was but
barely furnished, — a sort of dresser, serving also
for a table; a chest; three chairs (one almost
bottomless); an old turn-up bedstead, a Dutch
clock,, with the minute-lvuid broken, or as the
scavnger very well called it when he saw me
lookinjT at it, "a stump;" an old "comer cup-
board,' and some pots and domestic utensils in a
closet without a door, but retaining a portion of
the hinges on which a door had swung. The rent
was \s. 10(/., with a frequent intimation that it
ought to be 2$. The place was clean enough, and
the scavager seemed proud of it, assuring me that
his old woman (wife or concubine) was " a good
sort," and kept things as nice as ever she could,
washing everything herself, where "other old
women lushed." The only ornaments in the
room were three profiles of children, cut in black
paper and pasted upon white cord, tacked to the
wall over the fire-place, for mantel-shelf there was
none, while one of the three profiles, that of the
eldest child (then dead), was "framed," with a
glass, and a sort of bronxe or " cast " frame, costr
ing, I was told, \5d. This was the apartment of
a man in reguhir employ (with but a few excep-
tions).

Another scavager with whom I had some
conversation about his labours as a nightman, for
he was both, gave me a full account of his own
diet, which I find to be sufliciently specltic as to
tliat of his class generally, but only of the regular
hands.

The diet of the regular working scavager (or
nightman) seems generally to differ from that of
mechanics, and perhaps of other working men,
in the respect of his being fonder of salt and
itrong-fiavourtd food, I have before made the same

""JJi'^'Ai

THE LONDON SCAVENGER.

iFrom a Di^tcrre. type f»y BcAiiD.]

LONJMSr LABOUR AKD THS LONDON FOOML

tt7

remark concembg tbe diet of the poor generally.
I do not mean, however, that the acavi^geri are
fond of such animal food as is called " high," for
I did not hear that nightmen or Bcavagen were
more tolerant of what approached putridity than
other labouring men, and, de^ite their calling,
might sicken at the rankness of some haunches
of venison; but they have a great relish for
highly-salted cold boiled beef, bacon, or pork, with
a saucer-full of red pickled cabbl^;e, or dingy-
looking pickled onions, or one or two big, strong,
raw onions, of which most of them seem as fond
as Spaniards of garlic. This sort of meat, some-
times profusely mustarded, is often eaten in the
beer^shops with thick "shives* of bread, cut into
big mouthfhls with a clasp pocket-knife, while
vegetables, unless indeed the beei^shop can supply
a plate of smoking hot potatoes, are uncared for.
The drink is usually beer. The same style of
eating and the same kind of food characterize the
scavager and nightman, when taking his meal at
home with his wife or fimiily ; but so irreguhr,
and often of necessity, are these men's hours, that
they may be said to have no homes, merely places
to sleep or dose in.

A working scavager and nightman calculated
for me his expenses in eating and drinking, and
other necessaries, for the previous week. He
had earned 15<., but li. of this went to pay off
an advance of 5$. made to him by the keeper of a
beer-shop, or, as he called it, a ''jerry."

Daily. Weekly.
d. t. d.

Bent of an unfurnished room 1 9

Washing (average) .... 8

[The man himself washed
the dress in which he
worked, and generally
washed his own ftockings.]
Shaving (when twice a week) 1

Tobacco 1 7

[Short pipes are given to
these men at iSe beer-
shops, or pubtio-honies
which they "use. T

Beer 4 24

[He nsoally spent more than
4<2. a day in beer, he said,
" it was only a pot ; " but
this week more beer than
nsnal had been given to
him in nightwork.]

Gin 2 12

[The same with gin.]
Ooooa (pint at a coffee-shop) . 1^ 10)

Breed (qnartem loaf) (some-
times 6 i<f.) ... .6 86
BoUed salt beef (fib. or Jib.
daOy, ''as happened,** for
two neals, M. per pound,

avenge 4 2 4

Pickles or Onions . , . . 0^ If

Butter 1

Soap 1

18 2^

Perhaps this informant was excessive In his
drink. I believe he was so; the others not
drinkbg so much regularly. The odd 9d,, he told
me, he paid to " a snob," because he said he ww
going to send his half-boots to be mended.

This man informed me he was a " widdur,** having
lost his old *oman, and he got all his meals at a
beer or coffee-shop. Sometimes, when he was a
street-sweeper by day and a nightman by nigh^
he had earned 20<. to 22s. ; and then he could
have his pound of salt meat a day, for three meals,
with a " baked tatur or so, when they was in."
I inquired as to the apparently low charae of 6<2.
per pound for cooked flnat, but I found that the
man had stated what was correct. In many parts
good boiled " brisket," fresh cut, is 7d. and Sd.
per lb., with mustard into the bargain ; and the
cook-shop keepers (not the eating-house people)
who sell boiled hams, beef, &c., in retail, but not
to be eaten on the premises, vend the hard re*
mains of a brisket, and sometimes of a round, for
6<i, or even less (also with mustard), and the
scavagers like this better than any other food. In
the brisk times my informant sometimes had '* a
hot cut" from a shop on a Sunday, and a more
liberal allowance of beer and gin. If he had any
piece of clothing to buy he always bought it at
once, before his money went for other tUng&
These were his proceedings when business waa
brisk.

In skcker times his diet waa on another
footing. He then made his supper, ^ second
meal, for tea he seldom touchec^ an *iu[ots."
This preparation of baked meats cotts Id. hot-
but it is seldom sold hot except in the evening—-
and id., or more frequently two for Ijid, cold.
It is a sort of cake, roll, or ball, a number being
baked at a time, and is made of chopped liver
and lights, mixed with gravy, and wrapped in
pieces of pig*s caul. It weighs six ounces, so
that it is unquestionably a cheap, and, to the
scavager, a savoury meal; but to other nostrils
its odour is not seductive. My informant re-
gretted the capital fttgots he used to get at a shop
when he worked in Lambeth ; superior to anything
he had been able to meet with on the Middlesex
side of the water. Or he dined off a saveloy,
costing Id, and bread ; or bought a pennyworth
of strong cheese, and a farthing's worth of onions.
He woiHd further reduce his daily expenditure on
cocoa (or coffee sometimes) to Id., and his bread
to three-quarten of a loaf. He ate, however, in
average times, a quarter of a quartern loaf to has
breakfast (sometimes buying a halfpennyworth o^
butter), a quarter or more to his dinner, the same
to his supper, and the other, with an onion for a
relish, to his beer. He was a great bread eater,
he said ; but sometimes, if he slept in the day-
time, hidf a loaf would " stand over to next day."
He was always hungriest when at work^among
the street-mud or night-soil, or when lie had
finished work.

On my asking him if he meant that he par-
took of the meals he had described daOy, "he
answered "no," but that was nu>itly what he
had; and if he bought a bit of cold boiled, or

228

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

eren roMt pork, "what offered cheap," the ex-
pense waf about the tame. When he waa drink-
ing, and he did "make a break aometimes," he
ftte nothing, and "wam't inclined to,** and he
■eemed rather to plume himself on this, as a point
of economy. He had tasted fruit pies, but cared
nothing for them ; ^ut liked four penn'orth of a
hot meat or giblet pie on a Sunday. Batter-
podding he only liked if smoking hot ; and it was
"nneommon improred," he said, "with an ingan!"
Bom he preferred to ffin, only it was dearer, but
most of the scavagers, he thouffht, liked Old Tom
(gin) best; but ** they waa boui good."

Of the drinking of these men I heard a good
deal, and there is no doubt that some of Uiem
tope hard, and by their conduct evince a sort of
belief that the great end of labour is beer. But
it must be borne in mind that if inquiries are
made as to the man best adapted to give informa-
tion concerning any rude calling (especially), some
talkatire member of the body of these working
men, some pot-house hero who has pursuaded
himself and his ignorant mates that he is an
orade, is put forward. As these men are some-
times, from being trained to, and long known in
their callings, more prosperous than their fellows,
their opinions seem ratified by their circumstances.
But in such cases, or in the appearance of such
cases, it has been my custom to make subsequent
inqoiries, or there might be frequent misleadings,
were the stalHMnts of these men taken as typical
of the feetinga and habits of the ^phoU body. The
statement of the working scavager giren under
this head is unquestionably typiod of the charac-
ter of a portion of his co-workers, and more
especially of what was, and in the sort of here-
ditary scavagers I have spoken of t>, the cha-
racter of the regular hands. There are now,
however, many checks to prolonged indulgence
in " lush," as every man of the ruder street-sweep-
ing class mil call it The contractors must be
served regularly; the most indulgent will not
tolerate any unreasonable absence from work, so
that the working scavagers, at the jeopardy of
their means of living, must leave their carouse at
an hour which will permit thein to rise soon
enough in the morning.

The beer which these men imbibe, it should be
also remembered, they regard as a proper part of
their diet, in the same light, indeed, as they regard
so much bread, and that among them the opinion
is almost universal, that beer is necessary to
"keep up their strength ;" there are a few teeto-
tallers belonging to the doss ; one man thought he
knew five, and had heard of five others.

I inquired of the landlord of a beer-shop, fre-
quented by these men, as to their potations, but he
wanted to make it appear that they took a half-pint,
now and then, when thirsty I fie was evidently
tender of the character of his customers. The land-
lord of a public house also fireqnented by them in-
formed me that he really could not say what they
expended in beer, for labourers of all kinds " used
his tap," and as all tap-room liquor was paid for
on delivery in his and all similar establishments,
he did not know the quantity supplied to any

particular class. He was satisfied these men, as
a whole, drank less than they did at one time;
though he had no donbt some (he seemed to know
no distinctions between scavagers, dustmen, and
uightmen) spent Is. a day in drink. He knew
one scavager who was doaing about not long
since for nearly a week, " sleepy drunk," and the
belief was that he had " (bond something." The
absence of all aeconnti prevents my coming to
anything definite on this head, but it seems posi-
tive that these men drink less than they did. The
landlord in question thought the statement I have
given as to diet and drink perfectly correct for a
regular hand in good earnings. I am assured,
however, and it is my own opinion, after long in-
quiry, that one-third of their earnings is spent
in drink.

Of tbb Influehoi of Fbbi Trade ok tqe

Earkikob of the Scatagers.
As regards the influence of Free Trade upon
the scavaging business, I could gain little or no
information from the body of street-sweepers,
because they have never noticed its operation, and
the men, with the exception of such as have sunk
into street-sweeping from better-informed con-
ditions of life, know nothing about it. Among aif,
however, I have heard statements of the blessing
of cheap bread ; always cheap bread. " There 's
nothing like bread," say the men, " it *s not all
poor people can get meat; but they mutt get
bread." Cheap food nil hibouring men pronounce
a blessing, as it unquestionably is, but " some-
how," as a scavager's carman said to me, " the
thing ain't working as it should."

In the course of the present and former in-
quiries among unskilled labourers, street-sellers,
and costemiongers, I have found the great
majority of the more intelligent declare that
Free Trade had not worked well for them,
because there were more labourers and more
street-sellers than were required, for each man to
live by his toil and trafiic, and because the num-
bers increased yearly, and the demand for thoir
commodities did not increase in proportion. Among
the ignorant, I heard the continual answers of, " I
can't say, sir, wliat it 's owing to, that I 'm so
bad off; " or, " Well, I can't tell anything about
that."

It is difficult to state, however, wthout positive
inquiry, whether this extra number of hands bo
due to diminished employment in the agricuUunil
districts, since the repeal of the Com Laws, or
whether it be due to the insufliciency of occu-
pation generally for the increasing population.
One thing at least is evident, that the increase of
the trades alluded to cannot be said to arise
directly from diminished agricultural employment,
for but few farm labourers have entered these
businesses since the change from Protection to Free
Trade. If, therefore, Free-Trade principles /tare
operated injuriously in reducing the work of the
unskilled labourers, street-sellers, and the poorer
classes generally, it can have done so only in-
directly ; that is to say, by throwing a mass of
displaced country labour into the towns, and so

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOH

229

difpUcing other Ubonren from their ordinary
occupations, as well as hj decreasing the wages
of working«inen generally. Hence it becomes
almost impossible, I repeat, to tell whether the
increasing difficulty that the poor experience in
liring by their labour, is a consequence or merely
a concomitant of the repeal of the Com Laws ; if
it be a consequence, of course the poor are no
better for the alteration ; if, however, it be a
coincidence rather than a necessary result of the
measure, the circumstances of the poor are, of
course, as much improved as they would have been
impoverished provided that measure had never
become law. I candidly confess I am as yet
without the means of coming to any conclusion on
this part of the subject

Nor can it be said that in the scavagers* trade
wages have in any way declined since the repeal
of the Com Laws; so that were it not for the
difficulty of obtaining employment among the
casual hands, this class must be allowed to have
been considerable gainers by the reduction in the
price of food, and even as it is, the conttant hands
must be acknowledged to be so.

I will now endeavour to reduce to a tabular
form such information as I could obtain as to the
expendittire of the labourer in scavaging before
and after the establishment of Free Trade. I
inquired, the better to be assured of the accuracy
of the representations and accounts I received
from labourers, the price of meat then and now.
A butcher who for many years has conducted a
business in a populous part of Westminster and in a
populous suburb, supplying botL private families
with the best joints, and the poor with their
"little biU'' their "block ornaments" (meat in
Bimall pieces exposed on the chopping-block), their
purchases of liver, and of beasts' heads. In 1 84 5,
the year I take as sufficiently prior to the Free-
Trade era, my informant from his recollection of
the state of his business and from consulting his
books, which of course were a correct guide, found
that for a portion of the year in question, mutton
was as much as 7^4, per lb. (Smithfield prices),
now the same quality of meat is but 5d. This,
however, was but a temporary matter, and from
causes which sometimes are not very ostensible or
explicable. Taking the butcher s trade that year
as a whole, it was found sufficiently conclusive,
that meat was generally Id. per lb. higher then
than at present My informant, however, was
perfectly satisfied that, although situated in the
same way, and with the same chus of customers,
he did not sell so much meat to the poor and
labouring classes as he did five or six years ago,
he Uliaed not hy one^gldK, although perhaps
" pricert of his meat " among the poor were more
numeroui. - For this my infomuuit accounted
by expressing his conviction that the labouring
men spent their money in drink more than ever,
and were a longer time in recovering from the
effects of tippling. This supposition, from what I
have observed in the course of the present inquiry,
is negatived by Cscts.

Another butcher, also supplying the poor, said
they bought less of him ; but he could not say

exactly to what extent, perhaps an eighth, and he
attributed it to less work, there being no railways
about London, fewer buildings, and less general
employment. About the wages of the labourers
he could not speak as influencing the matter.
From this tradesmen also I receiv^ an account
that meat generally was Id. per lb. higher at the
time specifi^. Pickled Australian beef was four or
five years ago very low — Zd. per lb. — salted and
prepared, and "swelling" in hot water, but the
poor " couldn't eat the stringy stuff, for it was like
pickled ropes." "It's better now," he added^
" but it don't sell, and there 's no nourishment in
such beef."

But these tradesmen agreed in the information
that poor Ubourers bought less meat, while one
pronounced Free Trade a blessing, the other de-
clared it a curse. I suggested to each that cheaper
fish might have something to do with a smaller
consumption of butcher's meat, but both said that
cheap fish was the great thing for the Irish and
the poor needle-women and the like, who were
never at any time meat eaters.

From respectable bakers I ascertained that
bread might be considered \d. a quartem loaf
dearer in 1845 than at present Perhaps the follow-
ing table may throw a fuller light on the matter.
I give it from what I learned firom several men,
who were without accounts to refer to, but speak-
ing positively from memory ; I give the statement
per week, as for a single man, witlMnt charge
for the support of a wife and &mily, and without
any help from other resources.

Saving

Before Free

Alter Fred

•tece

Trade.

Trade.

Free
Trsde.

Aent . . .

UQrf.

U6d.

Bread (5 loaves)

2«. lid.

2*. 6rf.

5d

Butter (i lb.) .

6d,

6d.

•••

Tea (2 ox.). .

8(t

Sd.

•••

Sugar (4 lb.) .

Zd.

2d.

Id.

Meat (81b.) .

I*. Qd. . .

U^^Zd,

Zd.

Bacon (lib.) .

5d.

W.

•••

Fish (a dinner

Zd., or 1*. ed.

2d., or 1*.

6d.

a day, 6 days)

weekly.

weekly.

Potatoes or Ve-

geUbles (kd.

aday) . .

S\d.

Z\d.

•••

Beer (pot) . .

Z^d.

Zld.

•.•

Total saving, ]

per week, since

Free Trade

USd.

In butter, bacon, potatoes, &c, and beer, I
could hear of no changes, except that bacon might
be a trifle cheaper, but instead of a good quality
selling better, although cheaper, there was a do>
mand for an inferior sort

In the foregoing table the weekly consumption
of several necessaries is given, but it is not to be
understood that one man consumes them all in a
week ; they are what may generally be consnmed
when such things are in demand by the poor, one
week after another, or one day after another,
forming an aggregate oC weeks.

S80

JUMTDO^ LABOUR AND TSS LQNJ>OV POOB.

Thm, Free Trade wad Amp pnnriiioiis ue an
UMiiKetioDable benefit, if UMffseted by dmwbecki,
to the labouring poor.

The abofo itatement lafen enlj to a folly cai-

"X.

«». followiBg table givea tbe change mnm
Free Tiade in the eaningt of oaioel haadi, and
lelatet to tbe pait and the pneeat expflnditme of a
•eaTager. The num, who waa fMroMrly a hoaia
painter, nid he could bring me 50 men limilariy
cfaevmitanoed tohimielt

In 1845, pel

Week.

In 1851, per Week.

<. d.

#. d.

Bent

. 1 4

Bent . .18

Sloavef .

. 2 11

4 loaves . .20

Batter

. 0 5

Butter • .06

Tea.

. 0 6

Tea. . .05

Meat (3 lbs.)

. 1 6

Heat(31bs.) . 1 0

Potatoes .

. 0 8

Potatoes . .02

Bear (a pot)

• 0 4

Beer (a pint) . 0 2

7 8

5 10

Here, then, we find a poiitiTe saving in the ez-
penditare of It. 6d. per week in this man's wagei^
iisee the cheapening of food.

His eamings^ howoTer, tell a difEoent atory.

1845.

1851.

Earnings of 6 days . .
Ditto 8 days . .

s. d.
15 0

8. d.

7 6

Weekly Incomo . . .
Expenditure ....

15 0
7 3

7 9

7 6
5 10

Dinermce ...

1 8

Thus we pereeive that the beneficial effects of
cheapness are defeated by the dearth of employ-
ment among labourers.

It is impossible to come to precise statistics in
this matter, but all concurrent evidence, as regards
the unskilled work of which I now treat, shows
that labour is attainable at almost any rate.

Another drawback to the benefits of cheap food
I heard of first in my inquiries (for the Letters on
Labour and the Poor, in the i/omtn^ CkromeU)
among the boot and shoemakers— their rents had
been raised in oonsequenee of their landlords'
property having been subjected to the income
tax. Numbers of large houses are now let out
in single rooms, in the streets off Tottenham-
oonrt-road, and near Golden-sqoare, as well as
in many other quarters — to men, who, working
for Weet-end tndesmen, must lire, for economy <^
time, near the shops fimn which they derive Aeir
work. Near and ia GanniDgham-stnet and ether

streets, two men, folher and ton, rani nparards of
80 hoQsss, the whole of which they let oat in one
or two roonu, it is believed at a aary great
profit ; xn^ftct they live by it.

The rent ef these houses, among many others^
was nised when the income tax was imposed, the
8ab4etton dechiing^ with what tnitk ao one
knew, that the rents were raieed to thcBL It is
aommsn enoagh foe capitaUtla to fling snch im-
posts OB tiie shealdsn of the pooc^ and I heard
scavagen compkin, that every time they had to
efaaage their rooms, they had eithar to pay more
rent by 2<2. er 8c{. a week, or put up with a
worse pkoe. One man who lived at the time of
the pasong of the Income Tax Bill in Shoe-hme,
found his rent raised suddenly 3d. a week, a non-
resident kndlord or agent calling for it weekly.
He was told that the advanea was to meet the in-
come tax. *' I kaow nothing about what inoome tax

meana," he said, ^bntit's aoaw roguery aa ia

put on the poor." I heard eomphunts to the same
parport from several working scavagera, and the
letton of rooma are the moat exacting in plaoea
crowded with the poor, and where the poor think
or foel they moat reside " to be handy for work."
What connection there may bo between the quea-
tiona of Free l^ade and the necessity of the in^
come tax, it ia not my bnsineaa now ta dilate
upon, but it ia evident that the circamatancea of
the ooantry. are not anflSciently proeperoua to
enable pariiament to repeal tkua ^temporary"
impoat

From a better informed chua than the acavagers,
I might Imve derived data on which to form
a calculation from account books, Ice., but I
could hear of none being kept. I remember
that a lady's shoemaker told me that the weekly
rents of the ten rooms in the house in which he
lived were is, M. higher than before the income
tax, which '* came to the same thing as an extra
penny on over 50 loaves a week." It is certain
that the great tax-payen of London are the
labouring classes.

I have endeavoured to ascertain the facts in
connection with this complex subject in as calm
and just a manner as possible, leaning neither to
the Protectionist nor the Free-Tnde side of the
question, and I must again in honesty acknow-
ledge, that to the eomlani hands among the
scavagen and dustmen of the metropolii^ the
repeal of the Com Laws appeals to have been an
unquestionable benefit

I shall conclude this expoaitiott of the condition
and eaminga of the woiUng acavagers employed
by the more honourable masters, with an account
of the average income and expenditure of the
better-paid hands (regular and casual, as well as
single and married), and firat^ of the unmarried
regular hand.

The following is an estimate of the income and
expenditure of an unmarried operative acavager
regularly employed, working lor a large con-
tractor:—

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOH

VB«».. ...... 0 111 D

FtuqiiMtn .... 0 9 0

Ac(ub]

wwlclf

OIB D

R*Bt ..........

Wutilo^ IZLd
nienditig. . + . . .

Butchei'fi meat. *
Bfteon ....... ..^,

0 S l>

0 0 10

fiuttn-...,

Sfuivlqg .

Keep of i dew*' «
AsiiuemefiUi u

0 10
3 «

0 e

0 4

0 4

3 0

1 a

OIDI

0 71

0 16 0

0 18 a

Tbe fubjoiDcd mpreienU the incsomfl of im uitr
fttamVd operative acavager caniatl^ employ^ by
B intAil itmater scav^gt-r stx montba iluring ihe
jaar, at 15j. a week^ and 20 weeki at eand tU3d
rulbiib carlipg, at I2#. a week.

osnwj rr Vtv. £ It d,

NomLniLl wwkly wages it «ctv«Lji;liij;, Ific. foe

ai w«ck4 durinir the -ytnif , . . ► - ii!l ]# 0

Vfimu\i\tea, 2m. for ifl w«e]Ej duriaB tlie yew . , f Ifl 0

Aetiu] wieUy voea for 20 wmIu duiidg the
T«w ." ,.,..*....

^DtaiiiAl «»d pctuil T««klf viLjiei jtc mtsliiBh
evrebaf I lib for 30 weelu more duiioK the
fCftf II a 0

throughout ilm ycftz ....,,, ,».«^. ,.^. 0 IJ 4^

Tbe erpenditttw of tbu man when in work wn»
neorl J the tome as tliat of the regular hand \ the
main except jotn b^'Ing that hia reut waa 1*. kiatead
of 2*., atid no dog* were kept. When in work lie
ttved nothing^^ and when out of work lived aa be
eould.

The marrkd scaTagera ate difftrently arcana-
■tanced fraia tbe vmman-iW/ their eamlogs are
genendlj increased bj thoBe af their fmnil}'.

The labaur of the wives aod children of tbe
leamgert i« not an&equently in tho capacity of
iiflers in the dDat-Tardj^ where the wivea of the
men employed by the contractor have the prefer*
enoe^ and in «iher bat somewhat rude capacities.
One of tbeir wires I heard of as a dresser of
iheep^s trotten; two as being among the most
lliUal dreaaers of tripe for a large shop ; one aa
^ ■ catVmeat aeUer " (her father's tailing) i but I
itiU fpfflkk of the rej^lar acavngcri — I could nol
meet with one woman " working a al op-needle,"
One,, mdeed, I saw who was detcribed to me as a
**fcatber dreaser to an out-imd^at ncgar," but the
vromaii aaanred me she waa nt^ithei badly paid nor
badjy ofIL Perhaps by anch labeur, oi an ayemge
on tbe part of the wiTei, M, a day is cleared,
and It. "on tripe and sueb like.*' Among tbe
"easttafs" wive* there are freqctent inifcancei of
the workiag Ibr slop ihirt-jnaken, &e., upon the
coaner torts of work, and at "atarrstion waget,"
bat on anch raatten I bare often dwelt, I

231

beard from some of these men that It was looked
upon aa a great thing if the wife*s kbour could
clear the week's rent of li. M. to 2^.

The following may be taken aa an estijaate of
the income and outlay of a betur paid o,jidf^^
employed operallte scavager, with hia wife and two
children:^

£ f . A

waaaxT rucoHs of rm
Nomin&I weekly

WlgCS dC QIAZ],

Perquf^iLei, ^.
Actual wL-ckly

wa^» af Dun.
NoiDinsl weekly

wage* of wife,

flr.
Parquiflites in

Rul jiod wood,

1^. 4dL
Actual weekly

wai^ af wife .
Nommfll weekly

" of boy, ,

0 10 a

0 7 4
D 3 0

1 8 4

or raa #AMJt.v.

nent .......... 0 3 0

Ciuidle 0 0 5|

Bn»d ...,....., oaf

Batter.......... o o 10

Sugar 0 0 8

Tm.,......,,.. 0 0 10

CoJIfee.......... n 0 4

Butdiix^i m«*t. . 0 :) «

BkCQu...,, 0 1 a

Foutoea... 0 0 10

atwlUh 0 0 4

HeniBgi ...... 0 0 4

BeerdLbomef,. 0 9 0

w (At work).. 0 I 0

Suiriii ..,,.> 0 10

Chifmt ........ 0 0 6

ITour .,...♦.... 0 0 3

Stiet.. .,......,. 0 0 3

Fruit ....,,-... 0 0 3

Ftlqe ...,.., 0 0 0|

So*^ 0 0 6

Stareh .«,, 0 0 0|

Sodft u4 hluc ..001

Dubbto^t 0 § 0|

CJoihei for the

wl>o3e rsmily,

stiJ repatrlug

ditto ....,.,. 0 S 0
Bocrt* and ilkoci

fOf dlttu, diitQ 0 J a

Milk 0 0 7

SaJL ivpricT,and

tnuftt&rd...... 0 0 1

TolMCQO, ....... 0 0 B

Wpar jrnd imr of

bcddifif.CTOcliJ,

&& 0 0 $

Scltoalins for

fflrl . 0 0 3

&iikEri(t Suaday't

(tioDer. ...,.,, 0 0 9

MaiiKtlng ...... 0 0 3

.Amuivmeattmnd

luadrjin....*. 0 I 0

I 7 0

The subjoined, on tbe other hand, giTei the
income and outlay of a easaail^ emphjfed opdia-
tive acavdger {ItfUsr paid) with his wife and
two boys In constant work \-^

waaai^Y ihcome or raa

ITAHILT,

£ i^ d.
Nominal wagfi

of mxn at »ca-

Vrnji'ms for six

matttns, at l(w.

Wdckly.
Ditto at nita^ili

esrtJhK tbrm

mocitliji^ is*.

wwkly.
AYctsigt cuual

waittitluoiigli^

outth<^ye«]r.. 0 15 0
Nominal w««kly

w^&i of Wtftj

fw. ijfUDltOJlt).

FvriiubiltTt In

wood Aod cool,

Uift.
aetujJ weekly

wiL|[es of wifc» 0 7 4

WfjEELV niFKifPiToaa
or THE rAit(i,T.

£ i- d,

Rimt ....,...., 0 3 4t

Candle ........ 0 0 fi

Soap 0 0 4

Sci4A, Biaicbi lad

blue, 0 0 Si

BTWd , 9 » n

Butter. 0 0 9

l>ri|^l>mg ...... O 0 5

Sufiwr ..,.,...., 0 0 e

Tf a ............ 0 0 e

CQfT^ 0 0 6

Batchci'i meat. . 0 5 0

Bacon ....,.,... 0 J 0

PolatM*, ....... D 1 0

Cheese ........ 0 Q H

Raw fiih.. ...... 0 0 4

Keniags........ DOS

rrledflj^i ,..,., 0 0 S

ritmr .....,.,.. 0 0 9

SueC .,,.... 0 0 t

232

LONDON LABOUR AXD TUB LONDON POOR.

£ : d.
Nominal weekly

wages of two

boys, 7«* the

two
Pcrqubitet for

running on

mcauges. Is.

the two (ooo>

stant).
Actual weekly

wages of the

twoboys 0 8 0

1 10 4

Fruit 0 0 r»

nice 0 0 14

Beer (at home) .090

,. (at work) .019

SuirlM 0 1 »

Tobacco 0 0 9

Pepper, salt, and

mustard 0 0 1

Milk 0 0 7

Clothes for man,

wifp. HDd fa-

mily 0 2 0

Rfiairing ditto

for ditto 0 0 C

Bof'ts and shoes

fur ditto 0 10

Ri-u.iiring ditto

for ctitto 0 0 8

Wear and tear of

bedding.criK-ks,

Ac 0 0 3

Baking Sunday's

dinner 0 0 9

Mangling 0 0 2

AmuMmcnts,

»u::drici, dec. . 0 1 0

1 10 4

Ov TUE Worse Paid Scatiorcs, ob those

WO&SINQ FOR ScUBV* EllPLOYEIlS.

These are in the 8cav.i;;ert* trnde the tame dit-
tinct classes of employers at appcrtaiu to all other
trades ; tliese consist of : —

1. The large capitalists.

2. The iQiall capitalists.

As a rule (with some few honourable and dis-
honourable exceptions, it is true) I find that the
large capitalists in the several trades are generally
the employers who pay the higher wages, and the
small men those who pay the Tower. The reiuons
for this conduct arc nlnmst obTious. The power
of the capital of the " largrt master" must be |
contended against by the small one ; and the '
usual mode of contention in all trades is by re-
ducing the wnges of the working moi^ The
wealthy master has, of course, nuiny advantages ;
over the poor one. (1) He can pay ready money,
and obtain discounts for ininieiliate payment.
(2) lie can buy in larg'.^ (pian'.ities, and so get j
his stock cheaper. (3) He c.ui purchase what he
wants in the best markets, and that dircttly of
the producer, without the iuterrention and profit
of the middleman. (4) He can buy at the best
times and seasons; and "lay in" what he re-
quires for the purposes of his trade long before I
it is needed, provided he can obtain it "a bar- i
gain." (5) He can avail himself of the best I
tools and mechanical contrivances for increasing '
the productiveness or " economizing the labour"
of his workmen. (6) He can build and arrange
his places of work upon the most approved plan
and in the best situations for the manufacture and
distribution of the commodities. (7) He can
employ the highest talent for the management or

• The Saxon Sr^r/a, which is the original of the Eng-
w" ^^^' mcansjj «;ab, and scab is the terra given to
the "cheap mcn^ In the shoomaking tiade. Scab is
the root of our word Shabby.- hence Scurf ami Scab, de-

}»rlved of their offensive associatiuns, both mean shabby
ellows. '

design of the work on which he is engaged. (8)
He can institute a more efiectire system for
the surveillance and checking of his workmen.
(9) He can employ a large number of hands, and
s«» reduce the secondary expenses (of firiiKr, light-
ing, &c.) attendant upon the work, as well as the
I number of superintendents and others engaged to
i *• look after" the operatives. (10) He can resort
to extensive means of making his trade known.
(11) He can sell cheaper (even if his cost of pro-
duction be the same), from employing a larger
capital, itiid being able to *' do with" a less rate
of profit. (12) He can afford to give credit, and
I so obtain customers that he might otherwise
I lose.

I The tmall capitalist, therefore, enters the field
I of competition by no means eqtiallj matched
I against his more wealthy rival, What the little
I master wanU in " substance," however, he gene-
{ rally endeavours to make up in cunning. U he
I cannot btiy his materials as cheap as a trader of
larger means, he uses an inferior or cheaper
article, and seeks by some trick or other to palm
it off as equal to the superior and dearer kind.
If the tools and appliances of the trade are expen-
sive, he either transfers the cost of providing them
to the workmen, or else he charges them a rent
for their use ; and so with the places of work, he
mulcts their wages of a certain sum per week for
the gas by which they labour, or he makes them
do their work at home, and thus saves the expense
of a workshop; and, lastly, he pays his men
either a less sum than usual for the same quantity
of labour, or exacts a greater quantity from them
for the same sum of money. By one or other of
these means does the nmn of limited capital seek
to counterbalance the advantages wliich his more
wealthy rival obtains by the possession of exten-
sive " resources." The large employer is enabled
to work cheaper by the sheer force' of his hirger
aipital. He reduces the co5t of produtlifm, not
by en J ploying a cheaper labour, but by *' econo-
mizing the labour" that he does employ. The
Mnail employer, on the other band, seeks to keep
pace with his lirger rival, and strives to work
cheap, not by " the economy of labour" (for this
is hardly possible in the small way of production),
but by reducing the wages of his labourers.
Hence the rule in almost every trade is that the
smaller capitalists pay a lower rate of wages.
To this, however, there are many honourable ex-
ceptions among the small roasters, and many as
dishonourable among the larger ones in different
trader. Messrs. Moses, Nicoll, and Hyams, for
instance, are men who certainly cannot plead
deficiency of means as an excuse for reducing the
ordinary rate of wages among the tailors.

Those employers who seek to reduce the prices
of a trade are known technologically as " cutting
emjjloi/€ts," in contradistinction to the standaid
employers, or those who pay their workpeople and
sell their goods at the ordinary rates.

Of '* cutting employers" there are several kind«,
differently designated, according to the different
means by which they gain their ends. These
are; —

LOyDOy LABOUR AND THE IMfDON POOR.

238

1. " Driurt" or those who compel the men in
their employ to do more work fur the lame wages ;
of this kind there are two distinct varieties : —

a. The long-hour magUr», or those who make
the men work longer than the usual hoars
of labour,

h. The strapping mcuters, or those who make
the men (by extra supervision) " strap "to
their work, so as to do a greater quantity
of labour in the usual time.

2. Grinders, or those who compel the work-
men (through their neceuities) to do tho same
amount of work for less than the ordinary
wages.

The reduction of wages thus brought about
may or may not be attended with a corre-
sponding reduction in the price of the goods
to tho public; if the price of the goods
be reduced in proportion to the reduction of
wages, the consumer, of course, is benefitfd at
the expense of the producer. When it is not
followed by a like diminution in the selling price
of the article, and the wages of which the mm
ore mulct go to increase the profits of the capitalist,
the employer alone is benefited, and is then
known as a ** gixuper,'*

Some cutting tradesmen, however, endeavour to
imdersell their more wealthy rivals, by reducing
the ordinary rate of profit, and extending their
Business on the principle of small profits and
quick returns, the " nimble ninepence ** being con-
aidered "better than the slow shilling." Such
traders, of course, cannot be said to reduce wages
directly-^indirectly, however, they have the same
tfkcif for in reducing prices, other traders, ever
ready to compete with them, but, unwilling, or
p«rhaps unable, to accept less than the ordinary
rate of profit, seek to attain the same cheapness
by diminishing the cost of production, and for
this end the labourers* wages are almost in-
variably reduced.

Such are the characteristics of the cheap em-
ployers in all trades. Let me now proceed to
point out the peculiarities of wiut are called the
•cnrf employers in the scavaging trade.

The insidious practices of capitalists in other
calling!, in reducing the hire of labour, are not
unknown to the scavagers. The evils of which
these workmen have to complain under scurf or
slop masteri are : —

1. Driving, or being compelled to do more
work for the tame pay.

2. Grinding, or being compelled to do the
■ame or a greater amount of work for less pay.

1. Under the first head, if the employment be
at all regular, I heard few complaints, for the men
seemed to hare learned to look upon it as an in-
evitable thing, that one way or other they mxut
submit, by the receipt of a reduced wage, or the
ezereite of a greater toil, to a deterioration in
their means.

The system of driving, or, in other words, the
means by which extra work is got out of the men
for the same remuneration, in the seayagers' trade
if at follows:— some employers cause their sca-
vagsn after their day's work in the streets, to

lond the barges wi:h tho street and house-col-
lected manure, without any additional payment;
whereas, among the more liberal employers, there
are bargemen who are employed to attend to this
department of the trade, and if their street sca-
vagers are so employed, which is not Tory often,
it is computed as extra work or *' over hours,"
and paid for accordingly. This same indirect
mode of reducing wages (by getting more work done
for the same pay) is seen in numy piece-work
callings. The slop boot and shoe m^ers pay the
fame price as they did six or seven years ago, but
they have " knocked off the extras," as the addi-
tional allowance for greater than the ordinary
height of heel, and the like. So the slop Mayor
of Manchester, Sir Elkanah Armitage, within the
last year or two, sought to obtain from his men a
greater length of " cut " to each piece of woren
for the same wages.

Some master scavagers or contractors, moreover,
reduce wages by making their men do what is con-
sidered the work of •* a man and a half" in a week,
without the recompense duo for the labour of the
" half" man's work; in other words, they require
the men to condense eight or nine days' labour
into six, and to be paid for the six days only ;
this again is usual in the strapping shops of the
carpenters' trade.

Thus the class of 8tree^sweeper8 do not differ
materially in the circumstances of their position
from other bodies of workers skilled and un-
skilled.

Let me, however, give a practical illustration of
the lou accruing to the working scavagers by the
driving method of reducing wages.

A is a large contractor and a driyer. He em-
ploys 16 men, and pays them the " regular wages"
of the honourable trade ; but, instead of limiting
the hours of labour to 12, as is usual among the
better class of employers, he compels each of his
men to ^ work at the least 16 hours per diem,
which is one-third more, and for which the men
should receive one-third more wages. Let us see,
therefore, how much the men in his employ lose
annually by these means.

Sum re-
ceived per
Annum.

Sum they
should
receive.

Differ-
ence.

4 Gangers, at 18«. a]
week, for 9 months •
in the year

12 Sweepers, at 16r. a
week, for 9 months •
in the year

£ *.
140 8

374 8

£ #.
210 12

499 4

£ «.

70 4

124 16

ToUl wages per Anu.

514 16

709 IG

195 0

Here, then, we find the annual loss to these
men through the system of '' driving" to be 195L
per annum.

But A is not the only driver in the scavagers'
trade; out of the 19 masters having contiacts
for scavaging, as cited in the table gprren at pp.
213, 214, there are 4 who are regular drirers;
and, making the same calculation at above, we
hare the following results : —

280

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

thit, it is erident tbftt the man At inch timet mnst
•eek parochial relief; and it is by the reduction of
wages down to bare subsistence, that the cheap
employers of the present day shift the burden of
supporting their labourers when unemployed on
to the parish ; thus virtually perpetuating the
allowance system or relief in aid of wages under
the old Poor Law. Formerly the mode of hiring
labourers was by the year, so that the employer
was bound to maintain the men when unemployed.
But now journey- work, or hiring by the day, pre-
Tails, and the labotuert being paid — and that mere
fubsistence-money — onl^ when wanted, are ne-
cessitated to become either paupers or thieves
when their senrioes are no longer required. It is,
moreoTer, this change from yearly to daily hirings,
and the consequent discarding of men when lio
longer required, that has partly caused the immense
mass of surplus labourers, who are continually
Tagabondizing through the country begging or
ttMling as tney go — men for whom there is but
am* two or three weeks' work (harresting, hop-
pieUng^ and the like) throughout the year.

That there is, howerer, a larve system of job'
Una pursMid 6y (he eotUractort tor the honse^nst
and cleansing of the streets, there cannot be the
least doubt. The minute I hare dted at page 210
gives us a slight insight into the system of combi-
nation existing among the employers, and the ex-
traordinary fluctuations in the prices obtained by
the contractors would lead to the notion that the
business was more a system of gambling than
trade. The following returns have been procured
by Mr. Cochrane within the last few days : —

" Aveni^ yearly cost of cleausiiig
the whole of the public ways within
the City of London, including the re-
moval of duit, ashes, &c., from the
houses of the inhabitants, for eight
years, terminating at Michaelmas in
the year 1850 .... £4,643

Square yards of carriage-way, esti-
mated at 430,000

Square yards of footway, estimated
At 800,000

A more specific and later return is as follows : —

Received P»W for

for Du*t. cleansing, &c.

£ s, d, £ t. d, I Streets not

1845 .000. 2888 2 0 { cleansed

r daily.

1846 ]S54 5 0 . 6084 6 0 \

1847 4455 5 0 . 8014 2 0 J Streets

1848 1828 15 0 . 7226 1 6 \ cleansed

1849 .000. 7486 11 6 i daily.

1850 .000. 6779 16 0 }

" From the above return," says Mr. Cochrane,
" it may be infcrrfd that the annual sums paid
for cleansing in each year of 1844 and 1848 did
not exceed 2281/., as this would make up the
eight years* arenige calcuUtion of 4648/.'*

Since the streeU have been cleansed dailr, it
will be seen that the average has been 7188/.
The smaUest amount, in 1846, was 60841.; and

the largest, in 1847, 8014/.; which was a sudden
increase of 1980/.

Here, then, we perceive an immediate increase in
the price paid for scavaging between 1846 and
1847 of nearly 88 per cent, and since the wages
of the workmen were not proportionately increaMd
in the latter year by the employers, it follows that
the profits of. the contractors must have been
augmented to that enormous extent. The only
effectual mode of preventing this system of jobbing
being persevered in, <U lU expcKse qf (he work'
nun,, is by the insertion of a clause in each pari^
contract similar to that introduced by the Com-
missioners of Sewers — that at least a fiiir living
rate of wages shall be paid by each contractor to
the men employed by him. This may be an in-
terference with the freedom of labour, according
to the economists' " cant " language, but at least
it is a restriction of the tyranny of capital, for free
labour means, when liteially translated, (Ae unre-
ttncted ute qf capUalf which is (especially when
the moral standard of trade is not of the highest
character) perhaps the greatest evil with which a
State can be afflicted.

Let me now speak of the Scwf labourtt't. The
moral and social characteristics of the working
scavagers who Ubour for a lower rate of hire do
not materially differ firom those of the better paid
and more regularly employed body, unless, perhaps,
in this respect, that there are among them a greater
proportion of the "casuals," or of men reued to
the pursuit of other callings, and driven by want,
misrortune, or misconduct, to " sweep the streets ; "
and not only that, but to regard the " leave to
toil " in such a capacity a boon. These constitute,
as it were, the cheap labourers of this trade.

Among the parties concerned in the lower-
priced scavaging, are the usual criminations. The
parish authorities will not put up any longer with
the extortions of the contractors. The contractors
cannot put up any longer with the stinginess of
the parishes. The working scavagers, upon whose
shoiUdersthe burthen fidis the heaviest — ^oa it does
in all depreciated tradings — grumble at both. I
cannot aver, however, that I round among the men
that bitter hatred of their masters which I found
actuating the mass of operative tailors, shoemakers,
dressmakers, &c, towvd the slop capitalists who
employed them.

1 have pointed out in what the " scurf" treat-
ment of the labourers was chiefly manifested — in
extra work for inferior pay; in doing eight or
nine days' work in six ; and in being paid for only
six days' labour, and not always at the ordinary rate
even for the lighter toil — ^not 2s. 8</., but 2s. 6d. or
even 2s.id.ti day. To the wealthy, this 2d. or 4c/.
a day may seem but a trifling matter, but I heard a
working scavager (formerly a house-painter) put it
in a strong light : ** that 3</. or id. a day, sir, is
a poor &mily*s rent** The rent, I may observe,
as a result of my inquiries among the more decent
classes of labourers, is often the primary con-
sideration : " Tou see, sir, we must have a roof
over our heads."

A scavager, working for a scurf master, gare

LONDON LABOUR AND TEE LONDON POOR.

287

me the foUowing acconnt He waa a middle-aged
man, decently dressed, for when I saw him, he
was in his " Sunday clothes,** and was quiet in his
tones, even when he spoke bitterly.

" My father,'* he said, '* was once in business
M a batcher, but he felled, and was afterwards
a joomeyman butcher, bat very much respected,
I know, and I used to job and help him. 0 dear ,
yes ! I can read and write, but I have very seldom
to write, only I think one never forgets it, it 's
like learning to swim, that way; and I read
sometimes at coffee-shops. My fether died rather
sudden, and me and a brother had to look out
My brother was older than me, he was 20 or 21
then, and he went for a soldier, I believe to some
of the Ingees, but I 've never heard of him since.
I got a place in a knacker*s yard, but I didn't
like it at all, it wu so confining, and should have
hooked it, only I left it honourable. I can't call
to mind how long that's back, perhaps 16 or 18
years, but I know there was some stir at the time
about having the streets and yards cleaner. A
man called and had some talk with the governor,
and says he, says the governor, says he, 'if
Ton want a handy lad with his besom, and
he's good for nothing else* — but that was his
gammon — ' here 's your man ;' so I was engaged
as a young sweeper at 10«. a week. I worked
in Hackney, but I heard so much about railways,
that I saved my money up to 10«., and popped
[pledged] a suit of mourning I *d got after my
nther's death for 22«., and got to York, both on
iooi and with lifts. I soon got work on a rail ;
there was great call for rails then, but I don*t
know how long it *b since, and I was a navvy for
six or seven years, or better. Then I came back
to London. I don't know just what made me
come back, but I teas rtstleu, and I thought I
eould get work as easy in London as in the
eountry, but I couldn't I brought 21 gold
sovereigns with me to London, twisted in my fob
for safen'ess, in a wash-leather bag. They didn't
last so long as they ought to. I didn't care for
drinking, only when I was in company, but I was
a little too gay. One night I spent over 12«. in
the St Helena Gkirdens at Rotherhithe, and that
•ort of thing soon makes money show taper. I
got some work with a rubbish carter, a reguUir
scurf. I made only about 8f. a week under him,
for he didn't want me this half day or that whole
day, and if I said anything, he told me I might
go and be d — d, he could get plenty such, and I
knew he eould. I got on then with a gangsman
I knew, at street-sweeping. I had 15$. a week,
but not regular work, but when the work weren't
regubr, I had 2*. Sd, a day. I then worked
under another master for lis. a week, and was
often abused that I wasn't better dressed, for
though that there master paid low wages, he was
vexed if his men didn't look decent in the streets.
I 've heard that he said he paid the best of wages
when asked about it I had another job alter
that, at 15s., and then 16s, a week, with a con-
tractor as hod a vvharf ; but a black nigger slave
was never slaved as I was. I've worked all night,
when it 'i been very moonlight, in loading a barge,

and I 've worked until three and four in the
morning that way, and then me and another man
slept an hour or two in a shed as joined his
stables, and then must go at it again. Some of
these masters is ignorant, and treats men like dirt,
but this one was always civil, and made his
people be civil. But, Lon^ I hadn't a rag left to
my back. Everything was worn to bits in such
hard work, and then I got the sack. I was on

for Mr, next He 's a jolly good *un. I

was only on for him temp'ry, but I was told it
was for temp'ry when I went, so I can't complain.
I *m out of work this week, but I *ve had some
jobs from a butcher, and I 'm going to work agun
on Monday. I don't know at what wages. The
gangsmen said they 'd see what I could do. It II
be 15s., I expect, and over-work if it 's 16«.

" Yes, I like a pint of beer now and then, and
one requires it, but I don't get drunk. I dusted
for a fortnight once while a man was ill, and got
more beer and twopences give ne than I do in •
year now; aye, twice as much. My mate and me
was always very civil, and people has said,
' there 's a good fellow, just sweep together thia
bit of rubbish in the yard here, and off with it'
That was beyond our duty, but we did it I
have very little night-work, only for one master ;
he 's a sweep as well I get 2s. 6d, a job for it
Yes, there *s mostly something to drink, but you
can't demand nothing. Night- work's nothing, sir;
no more ain't a knacker's yard.

" I pay 2s. a week rent, but I 'm washed for
and found soap as well My landlady takei in
washing, and when her husband, for they 're an
old couple, has the rheumatics, I make a trifle by
carrying out the clothes on a barrow, and Mrs.
Smith goes with them and sees to the delivery*
I 've my own furniture.

'* Well, I don't know what I spend in my living
in a week. I have a bit of meat, or a saveloy or
two, or a slice of bacon every day, mostly when
I 'm at work. I sometimes make my own meals
ready in my room. No, I keep no accounts.
There 'd be very little use or pleasure in doing it
when one has so little to count VFhen I *m past
work, I suppose I must go to the workhouse. I
sometimes wish I *d gone for a soldier when I wai
young enough. I shouldn't have minded going
abroid. I 'd have liked it better than not, for /
like to he about ; yes, I lite a change.

" I go to chapel every Sunday night, and have

regularly since Mr. (the butcher) gave me

this cast-off suit I promised him I would when
I got the togs.

*' Things would be well enough with me if I 'd
constant work and fair pay. I dont know what
makes wages so low. I suppose it *s rich people
trying to get all the money they can, and caring
nothing for poor men's rights, and poor men 's
sometimes forced to undersell one another, 'cause
half a loaf you know, sir, is better than no bread
at all ** (a proverb, by the way, which has wrought
no little miMhief ).

In conclusion, I may remark, that although I was
told, in the first instance, there was subletting in
street sweeping, I could not hear of any licU to

288

LOS BOX LABOUR AXD THE LONDON POOR.

proTe it I was t>»ld, indeed, by a gentleman who
took great interest in parochial mattert, with a
view to '' reform! ** in them, that such a thing wa«
most improbable, for if a contractor sub-let anj of
his work it would soon become known, and as it
wouM be evident that the work could be accom-
plished at a lower rate,* the contractor would be in
a wone position for his next contract

Ov THE Strket-Swkkpiko Machxkb, and tde

Stbeet-Swbepiis sxpLorEi> with it.
tTimL the introduction of the machines now
seen in London, I believe tliat no mechanical
contrivances for sweeping the streets had been
attempted, all such work being ezecntcd by manual
labour, and employing throughout the United
Kingdom a great number of the poor. The street-
sweeping machine, thrrefore, assumes an import-
ance as another instance of the displacement, or
attempted displacement, of the labour of man by
^ mechanbm of an engine.

The street-sweeping machines were introduced
into London about five years ago, after having
been previously used, under the management of a
eompany, in Manchester, the inventor and makir
being Mr. Whitworth, of that place. The novelty
and ingenuity of the apparatus soon attracted
public att4mtion, and for the first week or two the
Tehicuhir street-sweeper was accompanied in its
progress by a crowd of admiring and inquisi-
tive pedestrians, so easily attracted together in
the metropolis. In the first instance the machines
were driven through the streets merely to display
their mode and power of work, and the drivers
and attendants not unfrequently came into cunt^ict
with the regular scavagers, when a brisk inter-
change of street wit took place, the populace
often enough eiicouniging both sides. At present
the street-sweeping machine proceeds on its line of
operation as little noticed, except by visitors, nnd
foreigners especialiy, as any other vehicle. The
body of the sweeping machine, although the sizes
may not nil be uniform, is about 5 feet in length,
and 2 feet 8 inches or 3 f;>et in width ; the height is
about 5 feet 6 inches or 6 feet, and the form that of
a covered cart, with a rounded top. The sides of
the exterior are of cast iron, the top being of
wood. At the hinder part of the cart is fixed the
8weepin(7-machine itself, covered by slopint; boards
which descend from the top of the cart, projecting
slightly behind the vehicle to the ground ; under
the sloping boards is an endless chain of bruBhes as
wide as the cart, 16 in number, placed at equal
distances, and so arranged, that when made to
revolve, each brush in turn passes over the ground,
sweeping the mud along with it to the bottom
sloping board, and so carrying it up to the interior
of the cart The chain of brushes is set in mo-
tion, over the surface of the pavement, by the
agency of three cog wheels of cast iron ; these are
worked by the rotition of the wheels of the cart,
the cogs acting upon the spindles to which the
brooms are attached. The spindles, brushes, and
the sloped boards can be raided or lowered by the
winding of an instrument called the broom winder ;
or the whole can be locked. The brooms are

raised when any acclivity is to be swept, and
lowered at a declivity. The vehicle mu^it be
water-tight, in order to contain the slop.

When full the machine holds about half a cart
load or half a ton of dirt ; this is emptied by
letting down the back in the manner of a trap door.
If the contents be solid, they have to be forked
oat ; if more sloppy, they are ** shot** out, as from
a cart, the interior genendly being rouglily scraped
to complete the emptying.

The districts which have as yet been cleansed by
the machines are what may be considered a govern-
ment domain, being the public thoroughfares under
the control of the Commissioners of the Woods
and Forests, running from Westminster Abbey to
the Begent-circcs io Piccadilly, and including
Spring-Burdens, Carlton-gardens, and a portion of
the West Strand, where they ^rere first employed
in London ; they have been used also in parts of
the City ; and are at present employed by the
parish of St Martin-in-thc-Fields. The company
by whom the mechanical street-sweeping business
is carried on employ 12 machines, 4 water carts,
19 horses, and 24 men. They have also the use,
but not the sole use, of two wharfs and barges
at Whitefriars and Millbank. The machines
altogether collect about 30 cart-loads of street-dirt
a day, which is equivalent to four or five barge-
loads in a week, if all were boated. Two barges
per week arc usually sent to Bochester, the others
up the river to Fulham, &c. The average price is
5?. lOjt. to 6A per bai^e load, bnt when the freight
has been chiefly dung, as much as 8^. has been
paid for it by a farmer.

The street-sweeping machine seems to have
commanded the approbation of the General Board
of Health, although the Board's expression of appro-
val is not without qualification. " Kven that effi-
cient and economical implement,*' says one of the
Reports, " the street-sweeping machine, leaves
much filth between the interstices of the stones
and some on the surface." One might have ima-
gined, however, that an efficient and economical
implement would not have left this "much filth"
in its course ; but the Board, I presume, spoke
comparatively.

The reason of the circumscribed adoption of
the machine — I say it with some reluctance, but
from concurrent testimony — appears to be that it
docs not sweep sufficiently clean. It sweeps the
surface, but only the surface ; not clean»ing what
the scavagers call the "nicks" and ''holes,"
and the Board of Health the ''interstices," in
the pavement

One man is obliged to go along with each ma-
chine, to sweep the ridge of dirt invariably left at
the edge of the track of the vehicle into the line
of the next machine, so that it may be " lickod up."
In fine weather this work is often light enough. It
is also the occu{>ation of the accompanying scuvager
to swet^p the dirt from the sloping edges of the public
ways into the direct course of the machine, fur the
brushes are of no service along such slopes ; he must
also sweep out the contents of any hole or hollow
there may be in the streets, as is frequently the
case when the pavement has been disturbed in the

L*"

IMTDON LABOUR AND THS LONDOJH POOA

289

nkying or repairing of the gai or water pipei.
Bot Ibr tUt ammgement, I was told, the hnuhea
would paM " clean oTor" inch places, or onlj dit-
tnrb without clearing away the dirt Indeed
irregolarities of anj kind in the paTemenC are
gnat obetmctioni to the efficiency of the itreet-
■ weeping machine.

There are eome plaeet, moreoTer, wholly m-
twnepable by the machine ; in many parte of St
Martin's parish, for instance, there are localities
where the machine cannot be introduced; each
are — St Hartin's^onrt; the flagged ways about
the National Qallery; and the apptoaeh, alongside
the church, to the Lowther Arcade; the pave-
ment surrounding the fountains which adorn the
"noblest site in Bniope;" and a variety of
alleys, passages, yards, and minor itreete, which
must be cleansed by manual labour.

In fiiir weather, again, water carts are indispen-
sable before machine iWeeping, for if the ground
be merely dry and dusty, the set of brooms will
not "bite."

We now come to estimate the reUUtve values of
Ike meekanieal and manual labour applied to the
teaPOffing of the sltreeU, The aversge progress of
the street-sweeping machine, in the execution of
the scavaffers' work, is about two miles an hour. It
must not be supposed, however, that two streets
sach a mile in length, could be swept in one hour ;
for to do this the vehicle would have to travel up and
down those streets as many times as the streets
are wider than the machine. The machines,
sometimes two, sometimes three or four, follow
alongside each othei^s tracks in sweeping a street,
10 as to leave no part unswept Thus, supposing
a street half a milB long and nine yards wide, and
that each machine swept a breadth of a yard,
then three such machines, driven once up, and
onee again down, and once more up such a street.

would cleanse it in three quarters of an hour. To
do this by manual labour in the same or neariy
the same time, would require the exertions of five
men. Bach machine has been computed to have
mechanical power equal to the industry of five
street-sweepers ; and such,firom the above eompnta-
tion, would appear to be tiie fact I do not include
the drivers in this enumemtion, as of course the
horse in the scavagersT .cart, and in the machhM
require alike the care of a man, and there ia to
each vehicle (whether mechanical or not) one hand
(besides the camian) to sweep after the ordinary
work. Hence every two men with the machine dio
the work of seven men by hand.

Having, then, ascertained the relative values
of the two forces employed in deansing the
streets, let me now proceed to set forth what if
" the economy of labour" resulting from the use
of the sweeping machine. In the following table
are given the number of men at present engaged
by the machine company in the deansing of those
districts where the machine is in operation, as we'll
as the annual amount of wages paid to the ma*
chine labourers; these facts are then collocated
with the number of manual labourers that would
be required to do the same work under the
ordinary contract system (assuming every two
labourers with the machine to do the work of
seven labourers by hand), as well as the amount of
wages that would be paid to such manual labourers ;
and finally, the number of men and amount of
wages under the one system of streetpcleansing if
subtracted from the other, in order to arrive at
the number of street-sweepers at present displaced
by machine labour, and the annual loss in waffei
to the men so dbplaced ; or, to speak economically,
the last column represents the amount by which
the Wage Fund of the street-sweepers is di-
minished by the employment of the machine.

TABLE SHOWING THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE NUMBER OF MRU AT
PRBSBNT ENGAGED IN STREET-SWEEPING BT MACHINES, AND THQ
NUMBER THAT WOULD BE REQUIRED TO SWEEP THE SAME DISTRICTS
BTHAND, TOGETHER WITH THE ANNUAL AMOUNT OF WAGES ACCRU-
ING TO BACH.

Madiine Labour.

Manud Labour.

Difieience.

PnTBion*

Number
of Men

Annual Wages
received

Number of

men that

would be re-

Annual
Warn that
WOU& be re-

Number
of

Annual Lo«

In Wages to

Manual

Labourers bf

Machine-

work.

employed to
attend

by Machine
Men. at V^

quired to
sweep the

ceived by
Manual La-

MendUplaced
by MacVine-

a Week.

StxecUbyMa-

bourers, at

work.

1A«. a Week.

£ s.

£ I.

£ s.

8t Martitt's-in-the 1
Fidda ....

8

832 16

28

1092 0

20

759 4

Begen^street and S

PaU-maU (see \

12

499 4

42

1638 0

80

1188 16

taW•,^2U) ..

Other places, con-

nected with Woods \

4

166 8

14

M6 0

10

379 12

and Foresto . . J

Total. . .

24

998 8

84

3276 0

60

2277 12

suo

LONDON LABOUR AND TUB LONDON POOR.

Hence, we perceive thnt no leu Uuin 00 Btree^
sweepers are deprived of work by tbe itreeMweep-
ing machine, and that the groif Wage Fund of the
men is diminished by the employment of me-
chanical labour no less than 2277^ per annum.

But let ua luppose the streei^weeping machine
to come into genend use, and all the men who are
at present employed by the contractors, both large
and small, to sweep the street by hand to be super-
ieded by it, what would be the result 1 how much
money would the manual Ubourers be deprived of
per annum, and how many self-supporting labourers
would be pauperised thereby % The following
table will show us: in the first compartment

TABLE SHOWING THB DIFFBRENGB BETWBBN THE NUMBER OF CONTEAC-
TOBS' MEN AT PRESENT EMPLOYED TO SWEEP THE STREETS BY HAND,
AND THE NUMBER THAT WOULD BE REQUIRED TO SWEEP THE SAME
DISTRICTS BY MACHINE WORK, TOGETHER WITH THE AMOUNT OF
WAGES ACCRUING TO EACH.

giren below we hare the number of manual
Ubourers employed throughout London by the
laige and small contractors, and the amount of
wages annually receired by them* ; in the second
compartment is given the number of men that
would be required to sweep the same districts by
the machine, and the amount of wages that would
be received by them at the present rate ; and the
third and last compartment shows the gross num-
ber of hands that would be displaced, and the
annual loss that would accrue to the operatives by
the substitution of mechanical for manual labour
in the sweeping of the streets.

Manual Labour.

Machine Labour.

DUIteence.

Number of

Annual Wsfcct

Number of

AnnualWages
that wouirbe

Number of

Annual l.ou

Men at pr»-

received by

Machine Men

Men that

that would

byCoQtractoci

Contncton'

that would be

receiYed by

would bedis-

accrue to

Men for

required to

Machine Men,

placed by
Machine-

Manual

to sweep the
streets.

sweeping the

attend the

at 1«*. a

Labourers by

Streets, at Ite.

Street -sweep-

Week.

work.

Machine-

. —

a Week.

ing Machine!.

work.

£ #.

£ #.

£ t.

DistricU at present^

swept by large I
contractors (see f

262

10,218 0

75

S120 0

187

7098 0

table, p. 214) ..

DistricU swept by
small contractors . ^ '

13

507 0

4

166 8

0

340 12

Total. • •

276

10,725 0

79

3286 8

196

7438 12

Here we find that nearly 200 men would be
pauperized, losing upwards of 7000/. per annum,
U the street-sweeping machine came into general
use throughout London. But, before the intro-
duction of machines, the thoroughfares of St.
Martin's parish were swept only once a week in
dry weather, and three times a week in sloppy
weather, and since the introduction of the machines
they have been swept daily ; allowing, therefore,
the extra cleansing to have arisen from the extra
cheapness of the machine work — though it seems
to have been the result of improved sanatory re-
gulations, for in parts where the machine has not
been used the same alteration has taken place —
making such allowance, however, it may, per-
haps, be fiiir to say, that the same increase of
cleansing would take place throughout London;
that is to say, that the streets would be swept by
the machines, were they generally used, twice aa
often as they are at present by hand. At this
rate 158 machine men, instead of 79 as above
calculated, would be required for the work ; so
that, reckoning for the increased employment which
might arise from the increased cheapness of the
work, w» see that, were the street-sweeping ma-

chines used throughout the metropolis, nearly 120
of the 275 manual labourers now employed at
scavaging by the large and small contractors,
would be thrown out of work, and deprived of no
less a sum than 4680/. per annum.

This amount, of course, the parishes would pocket,
minus the sum that it would cost them to keep the
displaced scavagcrs as paupers, so that in this
instance, at least, we perceive that, however great a
benefit cheapness may be to the wealthy classes, to
the poorer classes it is far from being of the same
advantageous character; for, just as much as the
nte-payers are the gainers in the matter of street-
cleansing must the labourers be the losers — the
economy of labour in a trade where there are too
many labourers already, and where the quantity of
work does not admit of indefinite increase, meaning
simply the increase of pauperismf .

* I have estimated the whole at 15». a week the year
through, gangers, " honourable men,** regular hands and
all. so as to allow for the diminished recciuu of the
casual hands.

t The usual argument in favour of machinery, vis.,
that " by reducing prices it extends the market, and so,
causing a greater demand for the commodities, induces a
greater quantity of employment," would also be an
argument In favour of over population, since this, by

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDOlTPOOR.

241

The " kibour quettion " as connected with the
fweeping-machine work, requires but a brief de-
tail, as it presents no new features. The majority
of the machine men may be described as having
been "general (unskilled) labourers" before they
embarked in their present pursuits : labourers for
builders, brick-makers, rubbish-carters, the docks,
&c.

Among them there is but one who was brought
up as a mechanic; the others have all been la*
bourcrs, brick-makers, and what I heard called
''barrow- workers" on railways, the latter being
the most numerous.

Employment is obtained by application at the
wharfs. There is nothing of the character of
a trade society among the machine-men ; nothing
in the way of benefit or sick clubs, unless the men
choose to enrol themselves in a general benefit
society, of which I did not hear one instance.

The payment is by the week, and without
drawback in the guise or disguise of fines, or
similar inflictions for the use of tools, &c; the
payment, moreover, is filways in money.

The (uily perquisite is in the case of anything
being found in the streets; but the role as to
perquisites seems to be altogether an understand^
log among tbe men. The disposal of what may
be picked up in the streets appears, moreover, to
be very much in the discretion of the picker up.
If anything be found in the contents of the
vehicle, when emptied, it is the perquisite of the
driver, who is also the unloader ; he, however,
is expected to treat the men "on the same beat"
out of any such '* treasure trove," when the said
treasure is considerable enough to justify such
bounty. Odd uxpences, shillings, or copper coin,
I was informed, were found almost every week,
but I could ascertain no general average. One
man, some time ago, found a purse inside the vehi-
cle containing 20«., and " spent it out and out all
on hisself," in a carouse of three days. He lost his
situation in consequence.

The number of men employed by the company
in this trade is 24, and these perform all the work
required in the driving and attendance upon the
machines in the street, in loading the barges,
grooming the horses, &c. There is, indeed, a
twenty-fifth man, but he is a blacksmith, and his
wages of Z5s, weekly are included in the estimate
as to wear and tear given below, for he shoes the
horses and repairs the machines.

The rate of wages paid by the machine com-
pany is Ids. a week, so that the full amount of
wages is paid to the men.

But though the company cannot be ranked
vmcfog the grinders of the seavaging trade, they
fMut be placed among '* the drivers."

cheapeainff, labour must have the same efftct as madii-
nenr on pnoea, and, consequently (according to the above
logic), faiduce a greater quantity of employment I But
glinting that machinery really does benefit the labourer
m caaet token the markHf and ihertfijtre the quanHtif of
werkt U ktrgdv extentibU, turely it cannot but be an ii^urv
in those calUngi where the quantitif qftoork U fixed, htich
is the fket with the sawing of wood, the reaping of corn,
the threshing of com. the sweeping of the streets, &c,
and hence the evil of mechanical labour applied to such

I am assured, by those who are familiar with
such labour, that the 24 men employed by the ma-
chine masters do the work of upwards of 30 in the
honourable trade, with a corresponding saving to
their employers, from an adherence to the main
point of the scurf system, the overworking of the
men without extra, payment. . .

It has been before stated, that, in dry weather,
the roads require to be watered before being
swept, so that the brushes may lite. In summer
the machine-men sometimes commence this port
of their business at three in the morning; and
at the other periods of the year, sometimes at early
morning, when moonlight. In summer the hours
of labour in the streets are from three, four, five^
or six in the mombg, to half-past four in the after*
noon; in winter, from light to light, and after
street there may be yard and barge work.

The saving by this scurf system, then, is : — •

80 men (honourable trade),

16*. weekly . . £1248 yearly.

24 men (scurf-trade) doing

work), 16<. weekly .... 998 „

Saving to capitalist and
loss to hbonrer £250 „

It now but remains to smn up the capital,
income, and expenditure of the machine-scavnging
trade.

The cost of a street-sweeping machine is 50^.
to 60^, with an additional 5^ 5*. for the set of
brooms. The wear and tear of these machines
are very considerable. A man who had the
care of one told roe that when there was a
heavy stress on it he had known the iron
cogf of the inner wheels "go rattle, rattle,
snap, snap," until it became difficult to proceed
with the work. The brooms, too, in hard
work and "cloggy" weather, are apt td' snap
short, and in the regular course of wear
have to be renewed every four or five weeks.
The sets of brooms are of bass, worked strongly
with copper wire. The whole apparatus can be
unscrewed and taken to pieces, to be cleaned or
repaired. The repars, independently of the
renewal of the brooms, have been calculated at
*IL yearly each machine. The capital invested,
then, in twelve street-sweeping machines, in the
horses, and what may be considered the appur-
tenances of the trade, together with the yearly
expenditure, may be thus calculated : —

Capital of Stbeet-Sweepinq Machikb
Trade.

12 machines, 60/. each £720

12 sets of brooms, 5/. 5«. each set . 63

19 horses, 25/. each 475

4 watercarts, 20/. each .... 80

19 sets of harness (new), 7/. each set 133

4 barges, 50/. each 200

£1671

242

LOimON LABOUR AND THB LONDON POOR,

Tkarlt Exfudituss.

24 men, 16«. weekly £998

120 tetfl of broomi for 12 machiiieay

UMTset 480

Wear and tear, &e. (15 per cent) • 255

Keep of 19 honei, 10<. each weekly 4P4

Rent (say) 150

■ Clerk (wy) 100

Interest on capital, at 16 per cent • 170

£2674

In tbis calcnlation I have included wear and
tear of the whole of the implements of the stock-
in-trade, &e., taking that of the brooms on the
anst moderate estimate. According to the scale
of payment by the parish of Bt Martin ^which
is now 1000/. per annum) the ^bable receipts of
a single year will be : —

YiutLT Bbceipts.

£ t. d.
For hire of 12 machines . . 2500 0 0
200 baige-loads of mamxie,
61 15s. per baige 1150 10 0

Yearly ezpenditutt

8650 10 0
.2674 0 0

Profit 976 10 0

Or THi CLiAirsnia of thi Stbikm bt Fattpib
Labovb.

UkdbIl the head of the several modes and cha-
racteristics of street^leansing, I stated at p. 207
of the present Tolwne that there were no less
than four distinct kinds of labourers employed in
the scavaging of the public thoroughfares of the
metropolis. These were : —

1. The self-supporting manual labourers.

2. The self-supporting machine labourers.
8. The pauper labourers.

4. The " philanthropic" labourers.

I have slready set forth the distinguishing
features of the first two of these different orders
of workmen in connection with the scavaging
trade, and now proceed in ^e order to treat of
the characteristics of the third.

The subject of pauper labour generally is one
of the most difficult topics that the social philo-
sopher can deal with. It is not possible, however,
to do more here than draw attention to the salient
points of the question. The more comprehensive
consideration of the matter must be reserved till
such time as I come to treat of the poor specially
under the head of those that cannot work.

By the 43 Eliz., which is generally regarded as
the basis of the existing poor laws in this country,
it was ordained that in every parish a fund should
be raised by local taxation, not merely for the
relief of the aged and infirm, but for setting to
work all persons having no vMans to maintain
themsdceSf and using no ordinary or dai/y trade
of life to get their living by.

It was, however, soon discovered that it was
one thing to pass an act for setting able-bodied

paupers to work, and another thing to do so.
" In every place,** as Mr. Thornton truly says in
his excellent treatise on " Over Population," " there
is only a certain amount of work to be done,"
(limited by the extent of the market) "and only
a certain amount of capital to pay for it ; and, if
the number of workmen be more than propor-
tionate to the work, employment can only be
given to those who want it by taking from those
who have."

Let me illustrate this by the circumstances of
the scavaging trade. There are 1760 miles of
streets throughout London, and these would seem
to require about 600 scavagers to cleanse them. It
is self-evident, therefore, that if 400 paupers bo
"set " to sweep particular districts, the same num-
ber of self-supporting labourers must be deprived
of employment, and if these cannot obtain work
elsewhere, they of course must become paupers too,
and, seeking relief, be put upon the same kind
of work as they were originally deprived ot, and
that only to displace and panperiso m their turn a
similar number of independent operatives.

The work of a country then b^g limited (by
the capital and market for the produce), there can
be but two modes of setting paupers to labour : (1)
by throwing the self-snpporting operatives out of
employment altogether, and substituting pauper
labourers in their stead ; (2) by giving a portion of
the work to the pauper^ and so decr^sing the
employment, and consequently the wages, ^ the
resular operatives. In either case, however, the
independent labouren must be reduced to a state
of comparative or positive dependence, ita it U
tmpossibU to maie labourers qf the paupers qf an
over-populated country without making paupers
qf the labourers.

Some economists argue that, as paupers are con-
sumers, they should, whenever they are able to
work, bo made producers also, or otherwise they
exhaust the national wealth, to which they do not
contribute. This might be a sound axiom were
there work sufficient for all. But in an over-
populated country there is not work enough, as is
proven by the mere fact of the over-population ;
and the able-bodied paupers are paupers simply
because Uiey cannot obtain vorh, so that to employ
those who are out of work is to throw out those who
are in work, and thus to pauperise the self-sup-
porting.

The whole matter seems to hinge upon this
one question —

Who are to maintain the paupers ? The rate-
paying traders or the non-ratepaying workmen 1

If the paupers be set to work in a country like
Great Britain, they must necessarily be brought
into competition with the self-supporting workmen,
and so be made to share the ^vage fund with them,
decreasing the price of labour in proportion to the
extra number of such pauper labourers among whom
the capital of the trade has to be shared. Hence
the burden of maintaining the paupers will be
virtually shifted from the capitalist to the kbourer,
the poor-rate being thus really paid out of the
wages of the operatives, instead of the profits of
the traders, as it should be.

LONDON LABOUR AND THB LONDOJf POOA

248

And here lies the great wrong of pauper labour.
It nddles the poor with the maintenance of their
poorer brethren, while the rich not only contribute
nothing to their support, but are made still richer
by the increased cheapness resulting from the de-
preciation of hibonr and their consequent ability
to obtain a greater quantity of commodides for
the same amount of money.

In illustration of this argument let ns say the
wages of 600 independent scaragers amount, at
15s. a week each the year through, to 23,400^ per
annum ; and let ns say, moreover, that the keep
of 400 paupers amounts^ at 5#. a week each, to,
altogether, 5200/.; hence the total annual expense
to the several metropolitan parishes for cleansing
the streets and maintaining 400 paupers would
be 23,400/: + 5200/. - 28,600/.

If, however, tiie 400 paupers be set to scavag-
ing work, and made to do something for their
keep, one of two things mutt follow : (1) either
the 400 eztim hands will receive their share
of the 28,400/. devoted to the payment of the
operative soavagers, in which case the wages of
each of the regular hands will be reduced from
Ifii. to 9s. a week ; hence the maintenance
of the paupers will be saddled upon the 600
independent operativei, who vrill lose no less
than 9360/. per annum, while the ratepayers will
be saved the maintenance of the 400 paupers
and so gahi 5200/. per annum by the change;
(2) or e^ 400 of the self-supporting operatives
most be thrown out of work, in which case the
displaced labourers will lose no less than 15,600/.,
while the ratepayers will gain upwards of 5000/.

The reader ia now, I believe, in a position to
comprehend the wrong done to the self-supporting
scavagers by the emjdoyment of pauper labour in
the cleansing of the streets.

The preparation of the material of the roads of
a parish seeoi^ as fiff as the metropolis is con-
cerned, at one time to have supplied the chief
" test," to which parishes have resorted, as regards
the willmgness to labour on the part of the able-
bodied applicants for relieC When the casual
wards of the woikhouses were open for the re-
ception of all vagrants who sought a night's
shelter, each tramper was required to bresJc so
many stones in the morning before receiving a
certain allowance of bread, soup, or what not for
his break&st ; and he then might be received again
into the shelter of this casud asylum. In some
parishes the wards were open without the test of
stone-breaking, and there was a crowded resort to
them, especi^ly during the prevalence of the
fiunine in Ireland and the immigration of the Irish
peasBBts to England. The favourite resort of the
vagnnts was Marylebone workhouse, and Irish
immigrants very frequently presented slips of
paper on which some tramper whom they had
met with on their way had written '' Marylebone
worihotue," as the best place at which they could
apply, and these the simple Irish offered as pass-
ports for admission !

Oradoally, the asylum of these wards, with or
withont labour tests, was discontinued, and in one
where the labour test used to be strongly insisted

upon — ^in St Fancras — a school for pauper children
has been erected on the site of the stone-yard.

This labour test was unequal when applied to
all comers ; for what was easy work to an agricid-
tural labourer, a railway excavator, a quanyman,
or to any one used to wield a hammer, was painful
and blistering to a starving tailor. Nor was the
test enforced by the overseers or regarded by the
paupers as a proof of willingness to work, but
simply as a punishment for poverty, and as ft
means of deterring the needy from applying for
relief. To make labour a punishment, however, if
not to destroy, but really to confirm, idle habits;
it is to give a deeper root to the vagrant's settled
aversion to work. *' Well, I always thought it waf
unpleasant," the vagabond will say to hinmlf
"that working for one's bread, and now I 'm con-
vinced of it 1 " Affain, in many of the workhouses
the labour to which the paupers were set was of a
manifestly unremunerative character, being work
for mere work's sake; and to apply people to un-
productive labour is to destroy all the ordinary
motives to toil — to take away the only stimulus to
industry, and remove the very will to work whidi
the labour test was supposed to discover *.

The kbour test, then, or settmg the poor to
work as a proof of their willingness to kbour,
appears to be as foolish as it is vicious ; tne ob-
jections to it being— (1) the inequality of the test
applied to different kinds of work-people ; (2) the
tendency of it to confirm rather than weaken idle
habits by making Ubour inordinately repulsive ;
(3) the removal of the ordinary stimulus to in«
dnstry by the unproductiveness of the woik to
which the poor are generally applied.

And now, having dealt with the subject of parish
labour as a test of the willingnes to work on the
part of the applicants for reUe^ I will proceed to
deal with that portion of the work itself which if
connected with the cleansing of the streets.

And firat as to the employment of panpen at
all in the streets. It pauperism be a dis-
grace, then it is unjust to turn a man into the
public thoroughfares, wearing the badge of beg-
gary, to be pointed at and scorned for his poverty,
especially when we are growing so particularly
studious of our criminals that we make them
wear masks to prevent even their faces being
seenf. Nor is it consistent with the principles of
an enlightened national morality that we should
force a body of honest men to labour upon the
highways, branded with a degrading garb, like
convict*. Neither is it wise to do so, for the
ihame of poverty soon becomes deadened by the
repeated exposure to public scorn ; and thus the
occasional recipient of parish relief is ultimately

* Mr. Sidney Herbert informed me. that when he was
connected wiih the Ordnance Departmpnt the severest
punishment they could discover for idleness was the
pilinf; and unpiiinf; of cannon xhot; but surely this
iras the consummation of official folly ! for idleness
bcrag simply an aversion to work, it is almost sclf>
evident that it is impotmble to remove this aversion by
maliinf! labour inordinately irksome and repulsive.
Until we understand the means by which work is made
pleasant, and can discover other mode» of employing our

Sautters and criminals, all our workhouse and pii^on
iscipline is idle tyranny,
t This is done at the Model Prison, Pen ton villa.

244

LOXDOX LABOUR ANT) TUB LONDON POOR,

converted into the hardened and hahitual pauper.
** Once a pauper always a pnupor," I was assured
was the parish rule ; and here lii'S the rationale of
the fact. X^ot long ago this system of employing
hadfjal paapers to labour in the public thoroughfares
was carried to a much more offensive extent than it
is even at present At one time the pauper
labourers of a certain parish had the attention
of every passer-by •itmcted to them while at
their work, for on the back of each man's garb — a
sort of smock-frock — was marked, with sufficient
prominence, " Clerkeitwbll. Stop it ! ** This
public intimatioft that the hibourers were not only
paupers, but regarded as thieves, and expected to
parloin the parish dress they wore, attracted public
attantion, and waf severely commented upon at a
meeting. The "Stop it!" therefore was can-
celled, and the frocks arc now merely lettered
" Clerkuwell." Before the alteration the men
very generally wore the garment inside out

The present dress of the parish scavagers is
usually a loose smock-frock, costing Is. Od, to
2s, and a glazed hat of about the same price. In
•ome cases, however, the men may wear these
things or not, at their option.

The pauper scavagers employed by the several
mttropolitan parishes may be divided into three
classes: —

1. The in-door paupers, who receive no ^'ages
whatever (their lodging, food, and clothing being
considered to be sufficient remuneration for their
labour).

2. The out-door paupers, who are paid partly in
money and partly in kind, and employed in some
cases three days and in others six days in the
week.

These may be subdivided into — (a) the single

men, who receive, or rather used to receive,

9d, and a quartern loaf for each of the throe

or more days they wore so employed ; (b) the

married men with families, who receive 7i.

and 8 quartern loaves a week to 1*. 1 ^d. and

1 quartern loaf for each day's labour.

8. The unemployed labourers of the district,

who are set to st-avaging work by the parish,

and paid a regular m(»ney wage — the employment

being constant, and the rate of remuneration

ranging from 1*. 2d. to 2s. 6d. a day for each of

the six days, or from 7s. Cd. to 15*. a week.

In pp. 2-itJ, 247, 1 give a table of the wages paid
by each of the metropolitan parishes. This has been
collected at great trouble in order to arrive at the
truth on this most important matter, and for which
purpose the several parishes have been personally
visited. It will be seen on reference to this
document, that there is only one parish at present
that employs its in-door paupers in the scavaging of
the public streets; and 3 parishes employing 48
out-door paupers, who are paid partly in money
and partly in bread ; the money remuneration
ranging from 1#. l.^rf. a day (paid by Clerkenwcll)
to 7». a week (paid by Chelsea), and moreover 81
parishes employing 408 applicanU for relief (pau-
pers they cannot be called), and paying them wholly
in money, the remuneration ranging from 16s.
per week to 7». 6d, (paid by the Liberty of

the Rolls), and the employment from 6 to 3
days weekly. As a general rule it was found
that the greatest complaints were made by
the authorities as to the idleness of the poor,
and by the poor as to the tyranny of the
authorities, in those parishes where the remunera-
tion was the least In St Luke's, Chelsea, for
instance, where the remuneration is but 7s. a week
and three loaves, the criminations and recrimina-
tions by the parish functionaries and the paupers
were almost equally harsh and bitter. I should,
however, observe that the men employed in thif
pflrish spoke in terms of great commendation of
Mr. Pattison the surveyor, saying he always gave
them to understand that they were free labourers,
and invariably treated them as such. The men
at work for Bermondsey parish also spoke very
highly of their superintendent, who, it aeems^ baa
interested himself to obtain for them a foul- weather
coat Some of the highway boards or trusti tdce
all the pauper labourers tent tbem by the parish,
while others give employment only to tuch at
please them. These boardf generally pay good
wages, and are in fiivour with the men.

The mode of working, as regards the use of the
implements and the manual labour, is generally
the same among the pauper scavagert as I have
described in connection with the scavagen gene-
rally.

The consideration of what is the rate of parish
pay to the poor who are employed as scavagers,
is complicated by the difierent modes in which
the employment is carried out, for, as wo see,
there is — 1st, the scavaging labour, by work-
house inmates, without any payment beyond
the cost of mainteudnce and clothing ; 2nd, the
"short" or three-days-a-wcek labour, with or
without "relief" in the bestowal of bread; and
3rd, the six days' work weekly, with a money
wage and no bread, nor anything in the fonn of
payment in kind or of "relief."

Let mc begin with the first system of labour
above mentioned, vis. the employment of the in-
door paupers without wages of any kind, their
food, lodging, and clothing being considered as
equivalents for their work. The principal evil in
connection with this form of parish work is it»
compulsory character, the men regarding it not as
so much work given in exchange for such and
such comforts, but as something exacUd from
them ; and, to tell the truth, it is precisely the
counterpart of slavery, being equally deficient in
all inducement to toil, and consequently requiring
almost the same system of compulsion and super-
vision in order to keep the men at their Ubour.
All interest in the work is destroyed, there being
no reward connected with it; and consequently
the same organized system of setting to work is
required as with cattle. There are but two in-
ducements to voluntary action — pain to be avoided
or pleasure to be derived — or, in other words, the
attractiveness and repulsiveness of objects. Take
away the pecuniary attraction of labour, and men
become mere beasts of burden, capable of being
set to work only by the dread of some punish-
ment ; hence the system of parish labour, w hich

THE SWEEPS* HOME,

(fhim a sketch taken on iA^ spot,)

a;

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

245

has no reward directly connected with it,^ must
neceMarily be tyiannica], and so tend to induce
idleness and a hatred of work altogether.

Of the different forms of pauper work, street-
sweeping is, I am inclined to believe, the most
mipopular of all among the poor. The scavaging
is generally done in the workhouse dress, and
that to all, except the hardened paupers, and
sometimes even to them, is hufhly distasteful.
Neither have such labourers, as I hare said, the
incentive of that hope of the reward which,
however diminntiTe, itill tends to sweeten the
most repulsive labour. I am informed by an ex-
perienced gangsman under a contractor, that it is
notorious that the workhouse hands are the least
industrious scavagers in the streets. " They don't
sweep as well," he said, " and don't go about it
like regular men ; they take it quite easy." It is
often asserted that this labour of the workhouse
men is applied as a test ; but this opinion seems
nther to bear on the past than the present

One man thus employed gave me the following
account He was garrulous but not conununi-
catire, as is frequently the case with men who
love to hear themselves talk, and are not very
often able to command listeners. He was healthy
looking enough, but he told me he was, or had
been " delicate." He quenilously objected to be
questioned about his youth, or the reason of his
being a pauper, but seemed to be abounding in
workhouse stories and workhouse grievances.

** Street-sweepbg," he said, " degrades a man,
and if a man 's poor he hasn't no call to be de-
graded. Why can't they set the thieves and pick-
pockets to sweep 1 they could be watched easy
enough ; there 's always idle fellers as reckons their-
selves real gents, as can be got for watching and
sitch easy jobs, fi>r Uiey gets as much for them, as
three men 's paid for hard work in a week. I never
was in a prison, but I 've heerd that people there is
better fed and better cared for than in workusses.
What 's the meaning of that, sir, I 'd like for to
knowl Tou can't tell ^ me, but I can tell you.
The workus is made as ugly as it can be, that poor
people may be got to leave it, and chance dying
in the street rather." [Here the man indulged
m a gabbled detail of a series of pauper grievances
which I had a difficulty in diverting or inter-
rupting. On my asking if the other paupers had
the same opinion as to street-sweeping as he had,
he replied :— 0 " To be sure they has; all them that
has sense to miTS a 'pinion at all has ; there 's not
two sides to it any how. No, I don't want to be
kept and do nothink. I want proper work. And
by the rights of it I might as well be kept with

nothiak to do as or " [parish officials].

" Have they nothing to do," I asked 1 " Nothink,
bnt to make mischief and get what ought to go to
the poor. It 's saUiries and such like as s wallers
the rates^ and that's what every poor fiunily
kaows as knows anythink. Did I ever like my
work better 1 Certainly not Do I take any
pains with iti Well, where would be the good 1
I can sweep well enough, when I please, but if I
could do more than ue best man as ever Mr.
Daike paid a ponnd a week to, it wouldn't be a

bit better for me->not a bit, sir, I assure you. We
all takes it easy whenever we can, but the work
must be done. The only good about it is that
yon get outside the house. It 's a change that
way certainly. But «• work like horses and is
treated like asses." [On m reminding him that
he had just told me that tney all took it easy
when they could, and that rather often, he re-
plied :] " Well, doR't horses) But it ain't much
use talking,' sir. It 's only them as has been in
workusses and in parish work as can understand
all the ins and outs of it."

In giving the above and the following state-
ments I have endeavoured to elicit the feelings of
the several paupers whom I conversed witW
Poor, ignorant, or prejudiced men may easily bt
mistaken in their opinions, or in what they may
consider their ''fiu:ts," but if a clear exposition of
their sentiments be obtained, it is a guide to the
truth. I have, therefore, given the statement of the
in-door pauper's opinions, querulously as they were
delivered, as I believe them to be the sentiments
of those of his class who, as he said, had any
opinion at all.

It seems indeed, from all I could learn on the
subject, that pauper street-work, even at the best,
is unwilling and slovenly work, pauper workmen
being the worst of all workmen. If the streets be
swept clean, it is because a doxen paupers are put
to the labour of eight, nine, or ten regular scavagers
who are independent labourers, and who may have
some '' pride of art," or some desire to show their
employers that they are- to be depended upon.
This feeling does not actuate the pauper workman,
who thinks or knows that if he did evince a
desire and a perseverance to please, it would avail
him little beyond the sneers and ill-will of his
mates ; so that, even with a disposition to acquire
the good opinion of the authorities, there is this
obstacle in his way, and to most men who move in
a circumscribed sphere it is a serious obstacle.

Of the second mode of pauper scavaging, vim.,
that performed by out-door paupers, and paid
for partly in money and partly in kind, I heard
from officials connected with pauper. management
very strong condemnations, as being full of mis-
chievous and degrading tendencies. The payment
to the out-door pauper scavager averages, as I
have stated, 9d. a day to a single man, with,
perhaps, a quartern loaf; and this, in some cases,
is for only three dayft in the week ; while to a nmr-
ried man with a family, it. varies between Is, l^d,
and 1». 2d, a day, with a quartern, and some-
times two quartern loaves; and this, likewise, is oc-
casionally from three to six days in the week. On
this the single or family men must subsist, if they
have no other means of earning an addition. The
men thus employed are certainly not independent
labourers, nor are they, in the full sense of the
word as popularly understood, paupers ; for their
means of subsistence are partly the fruits of their
toil ; and although they are wretchedly dependent,
they seem to feel that they have a sort of right to
be set to work, as the lav ordains such modicum
of relief, in or out of the workhouse, as will only
ward off death through hunger. This " three-

246

LONDON rABOUR AND TEE LONDON POOR.

•TABLE SHOWING THE NUMBER OP MEN EMPLOYED BY
SCAVAGING, AS WELL AS THE NUMBER OF HOURS PER DAY
AMOUNT OP WAGES ACCRUING TO EACH, AND THE TOTAL

Faeisbes.

Walworth

NewinKtan • • ■ « .
L«Dib«Ui . . t i • «
Popkr . » . • • 1
Et, Aiin't, Sobo • • • •

Eotlierhjthc^

Wandiworth • . • ■ .
Hafknef . » • • «

Bl %mif%, Piiddbfton , , •
St Giki'«, Rtid Bt. Qeorgt**, Bloomibufj
8t Farcths ( South 'W«*t Divmon)
8t CleRient Dtjiei . « « ,
8t PAitra, Coven t-garden ,
Bt Jftmvi'f, WeiUukLiI^ , . .

Ditto

Ditto

Bl Andrew**, BoItMwn , , *

lilAn'lebono

0t. George'i, H«Tiaref^aare
^ Liberty «f the Eoll*

Bermondtey - , * * i

Paid la ifoiwy (Ay Uif^Away BoaitU).
St. Jiuuefl'f, Clerk&aweU (l«t Dlviticn])
lilington .....

Commercial Hoad Hmt
HmopiURd • . . , ,

KenBinftoa
LewiihaiTii
CiiJiibfrwtU
ChristchiirGh,
Woolwich
Beptford , , , .

Paid parti jf ta jtuuf,
St. Lako'i, GhelKs . »

Lamb«th

Eam-town „ , . .
St, Jame&'i, Clcrk^awell . «

Bu Fimcrftt (Uighwayi) ,

Total

No. of nut-
Hedrnen

Iry jnrubfi

12

ao
so

4

e

12

8

SO

10

2

a

6
10

80

30

1

13

5
7
i
4
3
6
I
10
6
5
4

27

6
G

10

400

fempLoyed

dAllyln

Ihfr ftreeti.

f'

15

a

ee

Nomber of
ttoJenti

Nupibe-r ol

or Gmn^vri
emptQvcd

0«llrorw«e%l3r
ir*fi«or the

nuarrird
pu-Jati-nintp

10
4

t.
15

W

15

15
15

14
12
12
12
12
12
11
II
10
IQ

0

9

9

7i. (U.
li. id. per day,

IS
15

15
11
12
12
12
12
12
0

Tf-^andonanai-e-
rage 3 loave* eacB,

at 4{L a loi\f.
7*., B-tid tiv'crftge 3

l^red ^ hv^ad.
lf.l^(f/ad«iT,and

1 quortem loaf.

utimnted esrpecue

of food, 2e. id^

weekly.

62

♦ The number of men here giren at employed by the parUhet In the Kavasing of the streoU will be found to diflTer
/h>m that of the table at page 213 ; but the pre^nt table Include! all the paiiUi-men employed throughout London,
whereoi the other refened to ooJy a portion of the localities there mentioned. ^^^^^

LONDON LABOUn AND T5S LONDON FOOM

L Sir

BOARDS m'

THE METROPOLITAN

PARISHES AND HIGHWAY

AKD NUMBER OF DAYS PER WEEK, TOGETHER

WITH THE

ANmFAL WAGES OF THE WHOLE.

Number of

l^Aily m wmXIt

WeeUjr »M«
of the

WceUf irtf«»

PTumHerof

flMyt in the week

T(H«] tnnuft! vigct

VUQ of UlB

oi Forenwnor

houn jwf djif

of the whoJc,

tLHUlB

Superimendcntf

a«Dgen

■adt pjriib-iDV}

£7:si^

iAdudlug the nitmated

fUfiali^inrB*

eiDplor«d by

employed by

it empl^eil to

value of

parbhEL

pvL&bPJ.

stteeptfieilAfU.

tlM

fcwd Aud clothc«r

/.

#.

i*

f, #. If.

15

301. nnd a koose
to Ut« in.

18

10

9

4&8 13 0

11

18

12

«

390 12 0

20

18 1

10

6

1456 0 0

18 1

10

6

067 i 0

15 1

la

6

195 0 0

1*

10

e

IST 4 0

18

10

6

2^4 0 0

10

18

10

6

635 12 0

10

20

15

12

6

509 12 0

13

18

12 •

6

033 0 0

18

12

0

, - 98 12 0

11

15

,10

e

' 26T 13 0

11

18

12

8

234 0 0 '

la

10

0

nr 4 0

12

10

a

18T 4 0

12

10

«

lfl3 12 0

U

12 '

10

a

304 4 0

9

18

16

10

6

S6g5 13 0

9«« a wfitlt.

20

10

10

6

* 1060 10 0

10

6

19 10 0

1». iif, p«F d*j.

2Bi. mi dothlng.

T

10

5

' 321 3 4

10

4

195 0 0

15

13

10

0

405 0 0

15

lOOL a jeap.

12

6

295 0 0

18

10

e

302 10 0

li

IS

10

0

228 10 0

12

13

12

e

265 4 0

13

10

6

ni n 0

13

12

0

358 16 0

15

10

Q

226 4 0

18 >

10

0

202 16 0

13

10

9

140 8 0

i '

11

10

e

834 12 0

14

10

9

101 4 0

10

t

TO 4 0

2i#. ind food.

8

4

123 5 4

15,919 8 8

M8

LONDON LABOUR AND TBS LONDON POOR.

dayi-A-week work** ii by the poor or pauper
libfmren looked upon m beii^ after the in-door
paaper work, the worst sort of employment

From a married man employed by the pariah
nnder this mode, I had the following account.

^He was an intelligent-looking man, of aboat 85,
bat with nothing Tery particalar in hia appearance
nnloM it were a head ef Tery early hiur. He
gave me the itatemeBt in hia own room, which
waa kiger than I hare naually found each
abodei^ and would have baea very bare, but that
it waa aomewhat littered with the Teatela of hia
trade as a atreet-seller of Nectar, Fenian Sherbet,
Baapberxyade, and other decoctiona of coloured
ginfcr-beer, with high-aounding namea and indif-
ferent flaYour : in the summer he aaid he could
live better thereby, with a little coatering, than by
atreet^weeping, but being often a sickly man he
could not do ao during the uncertaintiea of a winter
atreet trade. Hia wife, a decent looking wonum,
waa preaent occaaionally, auckling one child, about
twoyeara old — ^for the poor often protract the wean-
ing of their children, as the mother's nutriment is
the ekeaput of all food for the infant, and aa the
meana of postponing the further increase of their
fiunily — whilst another of five or six yearvof age sat
on a bench by her side. There waa nothing on the
walla in the way of an ornament, aa I hare aeen
in aome of the rooma of the poor, for the couple
had once been in the workhouse, and might be
drifen there again, and with such apprehensions
did not care, perhaps to make a home otherwise
than they found i^ eyen if the consumption of
only a little spare time were involTcd.

The husband said : —

"I was brought up as a type-founder; my
fether, who was one, learnt me his trade; but he
died when I was quite a young man, or I might
have been better perfected in it. I was com-
fortably off enough then, and got married. Very
aoon after that I waa taken ill with an abaoess in
my neck, you can aee the mark of it still." [He
showed me the mark.] "For six months I wasn't
able to do a thing, and I was a part of the time,
I don't recollect how long, in St. Bartholomew's
Hospital. I was weak and ill when I came
out, and hardly fit for work ; I couldn't hear of
any work I could get, for there waa a great
bother in the trade between master and men.
Before I went into the hospital, there waa money
to pay to doctors ; and when I came out I oould
earn nothing, so ererything went, yes, sir, erery-
thing. My wife made a little matter with charing
for funilies she 'd lived in, but things are in a bad
way if a poor woman has to keep her husband.
She was taken ill at last, and then there was
nothing but the pariah for us. I suffered a great
deal before it come to that It waa awful. No
one can know what it is but them that suffers it
But I didn't know what in the world to do. We
lived then in St Luke's, and were passed to our
own parish, and were three months in the work-
house. The living was good enough, better then
than it is now, I 've heard, but I waa miserable."
[** And I was very miserable," interposed the wife,
"for I had been brought up comfortable; my

&ther waa a respectable tradesman in St. GeorgeV
in-the-Saat^ and I bad been in good situationa."]
"We made ouraelves," said the husband, "as
usefiil aa we could, but we were parted of concse.
At the three nooths' end, I had 10«. given to me
to come out with, and waa told I might atart
coatennongering on it But to a man not up to
the trade, 10s. won't go very fer to keep up
eoetering. I didn't feel maaier enough of my
own trade by tbia time to txy for work at it, and
week wasn't at all regular. There were good
hands earning only 12«. a week. The 10«. soon
went, and I had again to apply for relief, and got
an order for the atone-yard to go and break stonet.
Ten buahela waa to be broken fer 15d. It waa
dreadful hard work at first My hands got all
blistered and bloody, and I*ve gone home and
cried with pain and wretchedness. At first it was
on to three days before I could break the ten
bushels. I felt shivered to bita all over my arms
and shoulders, and my bead waa aplitting. I then
got to do it in two days, and then in one, and it
grew easier. But all this time I had only what
was reckoned three days' work in a week. That
is, you aee, sir, I had only three times ten bushels
of stones given to break in the week, and earned
only 8s. 9d. Yes, I lived on it, and paid 1$. 6d,
a week rent, for the neighbours took care of a
few sticks for us, and the parish or a broker
wouldn't have found them worth carriage. My
wife waa then in the country with a sister. I
lived upon bread and dripping, went without fire
or candle (or had one only rery seldom) though
it wasn't warm weather. I can safely say that
for eight weeks I never tasted one bite of meat,
and hardly a bite of butter. When I couldn't
sleep of a night, but that wasn't often, it was
terrible, very. I washed what bits of things I
had then myself, and had sometimes to get a
ha'porth of soap as a favour, as the chandler said
she 'didn't miUce less than a penn'orth.' If I
eat too much dripping, it made me feel sick. I
hardly know how much bread and dripping I eat
in a week. I spent what money I had in it and
bread, and sometimes went without I was very
weak, you may be sure, sir ; and if I 'd had the
influenxa or anything that way, I should have
gone off like a shot, for I seemed to have no con-
stitution left But my wife came back again and
got work at charing, and made about is. a week
at it ; but we were still very badly off. Then I
got to work on the roads every day, and had 1$.
and a quartern loaf a day, which was a rise. I
had only one child then, but men with larger
fiunilies got two quartern loaves a day. Single
men got dd, a day. It was fiir easier work than
stone-breaking too. The hours were from eight
to five in winter, and from seven to six in summer.
But there 's always changes going on, and we were
put on If. l^d, a day and a quartern loaf, and
only three days a week. All the same as to time
of course. The bread wasn't good; it was only
cheap. I suppose there was 20 of us working most
of the times as I was. The gangsman, as you
call him, but that 's more for the regular hands,
waa a aervant of the parish, and a great tyrant

LONDON LABOUR AND THB LONDON POOR.

249

Ym^ ixideed, when we bad a talk among ounelTeB,
lliefs was nothisg but grnmbling beard of.
Some of tbe tales IVe beard were aboddsg;
wone tban what I We gone through. Bverybody
was grumbling, except perhaps two men that had
been 20 years in the streets, and were like bom
panpen. They didn't fieel it, for there 's a great
diflFerence in men. They knew no better. But
anybody might have been fri^tened to bear some
of the men talk and curse. We 'to stopped work
to abuse the parish officers as might be passing.
We 're mobbed the OTorseers^ and a number of us,
I was one, were taken belore the magistrate for
it ; but we told him how badly we were off, and
he discharged n% and gare us orders into the
workhouse, and told 'em to see if nothing could be
done for us. We were there till next mornings and
then sent away without anything being said.

" It 's a sad life, sir, is a parish worker's. I
wish to God I could get out of it. But when a
man has children he can't stop and say ' I can't
do this,* and ' I won't do that' Last week, now,
in costering, I lost Gs."* [he meant that his ex-
penses, of eyery kind, exceeded his receipts by Gs.],
and though I can distil nectar, or anything that way "
[this was said somewhat laughingly!, "it's only
when the weather's hot and fine that any good
at an can be done with it I think, too, that
there's not the money among working men that
there once was. Anything regular in the way of
pay must always be looked at by a man with a
&mily.

" Of course the streets must be properly swept,
and if I can sweep them as well as Mr. Dodd's
men, for I know one of them very well, why
should I haTe only Zt, i\d, a we& and three
loaves, and he hare 19s, I think it isl I don't
drink, my wife knows I don't" [the wild assented],
"and it seems as if in a parish a man must be kept
down when he is down, and then blamed for it
I may not undentand all about it, but it looks
queer."

From an unmarrUd roan, looking like a mere
boy in the fiiee, although he assured me he was
nearly 24, as fiur as he knew, I heard an account
of his labour and its fruits as a parish scarager ;
also of his former career, which partakes greatly
in its characteristics of the narratives I gave, to-
ward the dose of the first volume, of deserted,
ne^ected, and runaway children.

He lived from his earliest recollection with an
old woman whom he first called " grandmother,"
and was then bid to call " aunt," and she, some of
the neighbours told him, had "kept him out of
his rights," for she had 4«. a week with him, so
that uere ought to have been money coming to
bim when he grew up. I have sometimes heard
similar statements from the ignorant poor, for it is
agreeable enough to them to fiincy that they have
been wronged out of fortunes to which they were
justly entiSed, and deprived of the position and
eonsequence in life which they ought to have pos-
sessed " by rights." In the course of my inquiries
among tlie poor women who supply the slop
milliners' shops with widows' caps, cap fronts,
women's coUan, kc, he, I was told by one raid-

idle-eged cap-maker, a very silly person, that she
would be worth 100,000/, " if she had her rights.*
What those " rights " were she could not explain,
only that there was and had been a great desl of
money in the family, and of course ^e had a right
to her share, only she was kept out of it

The youth in question never heard of a ftither,
and had been informed that his mother had died
when he was a baby. From what he told me, I
think it meet probable that he was an illegitimate
child, far whose maintenance his father possibly
paid the is, a week, perhm to some near relative
of the deceased mother. The old woman, as well
as I could make the matter out from his narrative,
died suddenly, and, as little was known about her,
she was buried by the parish, and the lad, on the
evening of the funeral, was to have been taken by
the landlord of the house where they lodged into
the workhouse ; but the boy ran away before this
could be accomplished; the parish of course not ob-
jecting to be relieved of an incumbrance. He
thought he was then about twelve or thirteen yean
of age, and he had before run away from two schools,
one a Bagged-school, to which he had been sent,
"for itw€u$o confining/' he said, " and one master,
not he as had the raggeds, leathered him," to use
his own words, " tighSy." He knew his letters
now, he thooght, but that was all, and very few,"
he said, gravely, " would have put up with it so
long as I did." He subsisted as well as he
could by selling matches, penny memorandum
books, onions, &c., after he had run awa^,
sleeping under hedges in the country, or in
lodging-houses in town, and living on a few
pence a day, or ^^ starving on nothink." He
was taken ill, and believed it was of a feTer,
at or somewhere about Portsmouth, and when
he was sufficiently recovered, and had given the
best account he could of himself, was passed to
his perish in London. The relieving officer, he
said, would have given him a pair of shoes and
half*a-crown, and let him "take his chance, but
the doctor wouldn't sartify any ways." He
meant, I think, that the medical officer found
him too ill to be at large on his own aoconnt Ho
discharged himself, however, in a few weeks from
this parish workhouse, as he was convalescenL
" The grub there, yon see, sir," he said, " waa
stunning good when I first went, but it &U
off." As the probability is that there was no
change in the £et, it may not be unfiiir to con-
clude that the regular meids of the establishmsmt
were very relishable at first, and that after-
wards their very regularity and their little Tari»>
tion made the recipient criticaL

"When I left, sir," he sUted, "they guv no
2s. 6d., and a tidy shirt, and a pair of bluchersn,
and mended up my togs for me decent I tried all
sorts of goes then. I went to Chalk-farm and some
other fairs with sticks for throwing, and used to
jump among them as throwing was going on, and
to sing out, ' break my legs and miss my pegs.' I
got many a knock, and when I did, oh 1 there vat
such larfing at the fun on it I sold garden sticks
too, and garden ropes, and posts sometimes ; but it
was all wery poor pay. Sometimes I made lOii.,

250

LOXDON LABOUR AND TEE LONDON POOR.

but not nerer I think but twice 1#. a day at it, and
oftener 6</., and in bad weather there was nothink
to be done. If I made M. clear, it waa let. for
cawfee — for I often went oat fasting in a morning
•^and Id. for bread and batter, and \d, for podden
for dinner, and another \d, perhaps for beer — half-
pint and a farden out at the public bar — and 2c{.
for a night's lodging. I Ve had aometiroes to leave
half my stock in flue with a deputy for a night's
rest. 0, I didn't much mind the bugs, so I could
rest ; and next day had to take my things ont if
I could, and pay a hexter ha'penny or penny, fi>r
hintrest, like. Yes, I've made 18<i. a hevening
atafsir; but there's so many a going it there
that one rains another, and wet weather ruins the
whole biling, the pawillion, theaytrcs and alL
I never was a hactor, never ; but I 've thought
sometimes I 'd like to try my hand at it. I may
some day, 'cause I'm talL I was forced to go to
the parish again, fur I got ill and dreadful weak,
and then they guv me work on the roads. I can't
just say how' long it's since, two or three year
perhaps, but I had 9(/. a day at first, and reglar
work, and then three days and three loaves a
week, and then three days and no loaves. I
baven*t been at it werry lately. I 've rayther
taken the summer out of myself, but I must go
back soon, for cold weather 's a coming. Vy, I
lived a good deal on carrying trunks from the
bosses to Boston Railway ; a good many busses
atops in the New-road, in the middle of the
•quare. Some ^-as foreigners, and they was werry
inly. No, I never said nothink but once, ven I
got two French ha'pennies for carrying a heavy
old leather thing, like a coach box, as seemed to
belong to a family ; and then tlie railway bobbies
made me hold my tongue. I jobbed about in
other places too, but the lime's gone by now. 0,
I had a deal to put op with last winter. What is
9d. a day for three days ? and if poor men had
their rights, times 'ud be different. I'd like to
know where all the money goes. I never counted
how many parish sweepers there wns ; too many by
aril I've a rights to work, and it 's as little as a
parish can do to find it. I pay \s. a week for half a
bed, and not half enough bed-clothes ; but mo and
Jack Smith Eometimes sleeps in our clothes, and
sometimes spreads 'em o' top. No, poor Jack, he
hasn't no hold on a parish ; he's a nmd*lark and
a gatherer [bone-grubber]. Do I like the overseers
and the parish ofRcers 1 In course not, nobody
does. Why don't they 1 W^ell, how can they 1
that 's just where it is. Ven I haven't been at
sweeping, I 've staid in bed as long as I was let ;
bot Mother B. — I don't know no other name she
has — wouldn 't stand it after ten. 0 no, it wem't
a common lodging-house, a sort of private lodging-
house perhaps, where you took by the week. If
I made nothink but my ninepences, I lived on
bread and cawfee, or bread and coker, and some-
times a red herring, and I 've bought 'em in the
Brill at five and six a penny. Mother B. charged
\d, for leave to toast *em on her gridiron.

She i$ a scaly old . / 'w ofl spent all my

money in a tripe tupper at night, and fatted all
next day. I used to walk about and look in at

the cook-shop windows, and try for a job next
day. / *d have gone Jive miles for anybody for a
penn*ortk qf pudden. No, I never thought of
making away with myself; never. Nor I never
thought of gmng for a soldier ; it w)uldn*t suit
me to be ti^ so. What I want is this here —
re^Ur work and no jaw. 0, I'm sometimes as
miserable as hanger 'U make a parson, if ever he
felt it. Tes, I go to ehnrch sometimes when I "m
at work for the parish, if I'm at all togged. No
doobt I shall die in the workas. You see
there's nobody in the world caret for me. I can't
tell just how I spend my money; just as it comes
into my head. No, I don't care about drinking ;
it don't agree with me ; bot there's some can live
on it. I don't think as I shall ever marry, though
who knows]"

The third and last qritem of parish work is
where the labourer is employed regularly, and
paid a fixed wage, out of the parochial fund
certainly, but not in the same manner as the
paupers are paid, nor with any payment in
kind (as in loaves), but all in money. The pay-
ment in this wise is usoallv If. 6d^A day, and, but
for such employment, the poor so employed,
would, iu most instances, apply for reliefl

In one parish, where the poor are r^gulariy
employed in street sweeping, and paid a regular
wage in money, the whole scavaging work is dona
by the paupers, as they are usnafly termed, though
they are not " on the rate." By them the streets
are swept and the houaef dusted, the granite
broken for macadamixation, and the streets and
roads repaved or repaired. This is done by about
50 men, the labour in the different depart-
ments I have specified being about equally ap-
portioned a^ to the number employed in each. The
work is executed without any direct intervention
of the parish officen employed in administering
reli^ to the poor, but through the agency of a
board. All the men, however, are the poor of
the parish, and but for this employment would or
might claim relief, or demand admittance with
their families into the workhouse. The system,
therefore, is one of indirect pauper labour.
Nearly all the men have been unskilled labourers,
the exception being now and then a few operatives
in such handicrafu as were suffering from the
dearth of employment. Some of the orUzans, I
was informed, would be earning their 9s. in the
stone-yard one week, and the next getting 20s.
at their business. The men thus labouring for
the parish are about three-fifths Irishmen, a fif^h
Welchmen, or rather more than a fifth, and the
remainder Englishmen. There is not a single
Scotchman among them.

There is no difiference, in the parish I allude to,
between the wages of married and single men,
but men with families are usually preferred
among the applicants for such work. They all
reside in their own rooms, or sometimes in lodg-
ing-houses, but this rests with themselves.

I had the following account from a heavy and
healthy4ooking middle-aged man, dressed in a
jacket and trousen of coarse corduroy. There is
io little distinctive about it, however, that I will

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

S51

not consume ipace in preienting it in the narratiTe
form in which I noted it down. It may suffice
that the man seemed to have little recollection as
to the pasty and less care as to the fatore. His
life, from all I could learn from him, had been
spent in what may be called menial labour, as
the servant, not of an individual, but of a parish ;
but there was nothing, he knew of, that he had
to thank anybody for — parish or any one. They
wanted him and ho wanted Ihem* On my asking
him if he had never tried to "better himself,^
he said that he liad once as a navvy, but a blow on
the head and eye, from a portion of rock shivered
by his pick-axe, disabled him for awhile, and he
left railway work. Ho went to church, as was
expected of him, and he and his wife liked it.
He had forgotten ho w to read, but never was " a dab
at it," and so "didn't know nothing about the litany
or the psalms." He couldn't say as he knew any
difference between the Chnrch of England and the
Roman Catholic church-goers, "cause the one was
a English and the t* other a Irish religion," and he
" wasn't to be expected to understand Irish religion."
He saw no necessity to put by money (this he
said hesitatingly)) supposing he could ; what was
his parish for 1 and he would take care he didn't
lose his settlement. If he'd ever had such a
chance as some had he might have saved money,
but he never had. He had no fiunily, and his
wife earned about it, a week, but not every week,
in a wool warehouse, and they did middling.

The above, then, are the modes in which paupers,
or inmiinent paupers, so to speak, ore employed, and
in one way or other are liald for their liJiour, or
what is called paid, and who, although parish
menials, still reside in their own abodes, with the
opportunity, such as it is, of "looking out" for
better employment

As to the moral qwUititi qf the ttreU-neeeping
pauptrt I do not know that they differ from those
of paupers generally. All men who feel them-
selves sunk into compulsory labour and a degraded
condition are dissatimd, and eager to throw the
blame of their degradation from their own
shoulders. But it is evident that these men are
unwilling workers, because their work is deprived
of its just reward ; and although I did not hear
of any difficulty being experienced in getting
them to work, I was assured by many who knew
them well, that they do not go about it with any
alertness. Bid any one ever hear a pauper
whistle or ting at his street-work 1 I believe that
every experienced vestryman will agree to the
truth of the statement that it is very rarely
a confirmed pauper rises from his degradation.
Hit thoughts and aspirations seem bounded
by the workhouse and the parish. The reason
i4>peara to be because the workhouse autho-
rities seek rather to degrade than to elevate
the man, resorting to every means of shaming the
pauper, until at kst he becomes so utterly odious
to the disgrace of pauperism that he does not
care to alter his position. The system, too,
adopted by the parish authorities of not paying
for work, or paying less than the ordinary prices
of the trade, causes the pauper labourers to be

unwilling workers; and finding that industry
brings no reward, or less than its fair reward, to
them, they get to hate all work, and to stow up
habitual burdens on the State. Crabbe, the poet,
who in all questions of borough and parish life is an
authority, makes his workhouse boy, Dick Mon-
day, who when a boy got more kicks than half-
pence, die Sir Eichord Monday, of Monday-place;
but this is a flight on the wings of poetical
licence ; certainly not impossible, and that is aU
which can be said for its likelihood.

The following remarks on the payment of the
parish street-sweepers are from one of Mr.
Cochrane's publications : —

" The council considers it a duty to the poor to
touch upon the niggardly manner in which parish
scavengers are generally paid, and the deplorable
and emaciated condition which they usually pre-
sent, with regard to their clothing and personal
appearance. One contractor pays 16<. 6</. per
week; 2 pay 16».; 12 (including a Highway
Board) pay 16». each; 1 pays 14*. 6<i. ; 2 pay
14«. ; and 1 pays so low as 12«. On the other
hand, five parish boards of 'guardians of the
poor,' pay only 9*. each, to their miserable mud-
krks; one pays 8«.; another 7«. 5(/.; a third 7«.;
a fourth compensates its labourers — inTthe British
metropolis, where rent and living are necessarily
higher than elsewhere — with 6#. 8d. per week I
whilst a fifth pays 8 men 15*. each, 12 men 10«,
each, and 6 men 7«. 6({. each, for exactly the
same kind of work III But what renders this
mean torture of men (because they happen to be
poor) absurd as well as cruel, are the anomaloue
facts, that whilst the guardians of one parish pay
5 men 7s. each, the contractor for another part of
the same parish, pays his 4 men 14«. each ; — and
whilst the guardians of a second parish pay only
5«. M., the Highway Board pays 1 5«. to each of
its labourers, for performing exactly the same work
in the same district ! — Mr. Darke, scavensing con-
tractor of Paddington, kitely sUted that he never
had, and never would, employ any man at less than
16*. or 18«. per week ;— «nd Mr. Sinnott, of Bel-
videre-road, Lambeth, about three months sinoe,
ofilered to certain West-End guardians, to take
40 paupers out of their own workhouse to cleanse
their own parish, on the street-orderly system ; —
and to pay them 15«. per week each man* ; but
the economical guardians preferred filth and a full
workhouse, to cleanliness, Christian charity, and
common sense ; — and so the proposal of this con*
siderate contractor was rejectMl t It is certidnlj
&r from being creditable to boards of gentlemen
and wealthy tradesmen who manage parish affiurf ^
to pay little more than one-half the wages that an
individual does, to poor labourers who cannot
choose their employment or their masters. ....

" The broken-down tradesman, the journeyman
deprived of his usual work by panic or by poverty
of the times, the ingenious mechanic, or the un-
successful artist, applies at the parish labour-
market for leave to live by other hibour than that

* To the honouimble conduct of the above-named
ooutncton to their men, I am glad to be able to bear wit-
ness. All the men speak in the highest terms of them.

26%

LONDON LABOUR AN3 THE LONDON POOR.

wbich hitherto maintained him in comiort

The ufual Ungiiage of inch penoni^ eTen when
applying for private ainu or parochial relief, ii, not
that they want money, hnt ' that they have long
heen out of work ;' ' that their particular trade
haa hien orerttocked with apprenticee, or fuper-
leded by machinery;' or, 'taat their late em-
ployer haa become bankrupt, or has diacharged
the majoritjf of hu hands from the badnoM of the
timet.' To a man of thii chut, the guardian of
the poor replies, ' We will teat your wUlingneM to
labour, by employing you in the stone-yard, or to
•weep the streets ; but the parish being hearily
burthencd with rates, we cannot afford more than
7t. or 8«. a week.' The poor creature, conscious of
his own helplessness, accepts the miserable pittance,
in order to preserre himself and fiunily firom unme-
diate starvation.

"The council has taken moch pains to as-
certain the wages, and mode of expenditure of
than, by this uncared-for, and dmost pariah,
ciass of labourers throughout the metropolitan
jarishes ; and it possesses undeniable proofs, that
few possess any further garment thui the rags
upon their backs; some being eTen without a
cnange of linen ; that they noTcr enter a pkce
of worship, on account of their want of de-
cent clothing ; that their wires and children are
•tarred and in rags, and the latter without the
least education ; that they never br any chance
taite fresh animal food; uat one-third of their
hard earnings is paid for rent ; and that their only
•nstenance (unleu their wives happen to go out
washing or charing), consists of bread, potatoes,
coarse tea without milk or sugar, a salt herring
two or three tiroes a week, and a slice of rusty
bacon on Sunday morning 1 The meal called
dinner they never know; their only refection being
break£ut and ' tea :' beer they do not taste from
year's end to year's end ; and any other luxury, or
even necessary, is out of the question.

" Of the 21 scavengers employed by St. James's
parish in 1850, no less than 16," says Hr. Coch-
rune's report, " were married, with from one to
four children each. How the poor creatures who
receive but 7s. M. a week support their fitmilies, is
best known to themselves."

Let me now, in conclusion, endeavour to arrive
at a rough estimate as to the sum of which the
pauper labours annually arc mulct by the before-
mentioned rates of remuneration, estimating their
labour at the market value or amount paid by the
honourable contractors, vis. 16«. a week; for if
private individuals can afford to pay that wage,
and yet reap a profit out of the transaction, Uie
guardians of the poor surely could and should pay
the same prices, and not avail themselves of
starving men's necessities to reduce the wages of a
trade to the very quick of subsistence. If it be a
sound principle that the condition of the pauper
should be rendered less desirable than that of the
labourer, assuredly the principle is equally sound
that the condition of the labourer should be made
more desirable than that of the pauper ; for if to
pamper the pauper be to make indolence more
agreeable than industry, certainly to grind down <

the wages of At labonrer is to render industry
as unprofitable m indolence. In either case the
same premiom is proffered to pauperism. As
yet the Poor*Law Commissioners have seen but
one way of reducing the poor-rates, viz., by ren-
dering the state of the pauper as waenviahU
as possible, and they have wholly lost sight of
the other mode of attaining the same end, vis.,
by making the state of the labourer as detirahU
as possible. To institute a terrible poor law with-
out maintaining an attractive form of industry, is
to hold out a Iraon to crime. If the wages cf the
working man are to be reduced to bare subsistenoe,
and the condition of the pauper is to be rendered
worse than that of the workmg man, what atro-
cities will not be committed upon the poor.
Elevate the condition of the labourer, and tWe
will be no necessity to depress the pauper. Make
work more attractive by increasbg the reward finr
it, and laxiness will necessarily become more re-
pulsive. As it is, however, the pauper is not only
kept at the Tery lowest point of sobsistence, but
his half-starved labour is brought kto competition
with that of men living in a comparative state of
comfort ; and the result, of course, is, that in-
stead of decreasmg the number of paupers or
poor^ratei^ we make panpen of our labourers,
and fill our workhouses by such means. If a
scavager's labour be worth from 12f: to 15*, per
week in the market, what moral right have the
guardiani qf (ktpoor to pay 5«. Sd. for the ssme
commodity 1 If the paupers are set to do work
which is nirly worth 15s., then to pay them little
more than one-third of the regular value is not
only to make unwilling woriEen of the paupers,
but to drag down all the better workmen to the
level of the worst.

It may be estimated that the outlay on pauper
labour, as a whole, after deducting the sum paid
to superintendents and gangers, does not exceed
10s. weekly per individmu ; consequently the
lowering of the price of Ubour is in this ratio :
There are now, in round numbers, 450 pauper
scavogers in the metropolis, and the account
stands thus : —

Yearly.
450 Bca\'agers, at the regular
weekly wages of 16s. each . . . £18,710

450 pauper labourers, 10«. each
weekly 11,700

Lower price of pauper work . . £7,020

Hence we see, that the great scurf employers

of the scavagers, after all, are the guardians of

the poor, compared with whom the most grasping

contractor is a model of liberality.

That the minimum of remuneration paid by
the parishes has tended, and is tending more
and more, to the general depreciation of wages
in the scavaging trade, there is no doubt. It
has done so directly and indirectly. One man,
who had been a last-maker, told me that he left
his employment as a London scavager, for he had
"come down to the parish," and set off at the
close of the summer into Kent for the harvest and
hopping, for, when in the country, he had been

LONDON LABOUR ^TO WBB LONDON POOH.

more uaed to ngrienhmiil laboar ftin to hut, clog,
or patten making. He conxidAcA that he had
not been successful ; stiTl he returned to London a
richer man by 26«. 6d. Nearly 20». of this soon
went fur shoes and necessary clothing, and to pay
some arrears of rent, and a chandler's bill
he owed, after which he conid be tmsted again
where he was known. He applied to the fore-
man of a contractor, whom he knew, for work.
'•What wngeT said the foreman. "Fifteen
shillings a week,* was the reply. ** Why, what
did you get from the parish for sweeping !" " Nine
shillings." '' Well,'* said the foreman, " I know
yon *re a decent man, and yon were recommended
before, and so I can gire yon fonr or five days a
week at 2s, id. a day, and no nonsense about
hours ; /or you know yourself I can gel 60 nien
as have been parish worhers at Is. 9d. a day, and
jumj) at it, and so you m%utn*t be cheeky.** The
man closed with the offer^ knowing that the fore-
man spoke the troth.

A contractor told me that he conld obtain "plenty
of bands,** used to parish scarnging work, at
10s. ^d. to \2s. a week, whereas he paid 16s.

It is erident, then, that the system of pauper
work in scaraging has created an increasing
market for cheap and deteriorated labour, a
market including hundreds of the unemployed at
other imskilled labours; and it is hardly to be
doubted that the many who have faith in the
doctrine that it is the best policy to buy in the
cheapest and sell in the dearest market, will avail
theiBselTes of the low-priced labour df this pauper-
coBstituted mart.

It is but right to add, that those parishes which
pay 15s. a week are as worthy of commendation
as those which pay 9»., 7*. 6rf. and 7s. per week,
and Is. id. and Is. l^d. a day arc reprehensible;
aiid, unfortunately, the latter have a tendency to
regulate oil the others.

Of the Street- Obds&liss.

Tnis constitutes the last of the four yarietics of
labour employed in the cleansing of the public
thuroughfures of London. I hare already treated
of the self-supporting manual labour, the self-
supporting machine labour, and the pauper labour,
and now proceed to the eonsideration <^ the phi-
lanthropic labour of the streets.

In the first place, let us understand clearly
what is meant by philanthropic labour, and how
it is distinguished from pauper labour on the one
hand, and self-supporting labour on the other.
Self-supporting labour I take to be that form of
work which returns not less, and generally some-
thing more, than is expended upon it. Pauper
labour, on the other hand, is work to which the
applicants for parish relief are *'set," not with a
view to the protit to be derived from it, but panly
as a test of their willingness to work, and pjirtly
as a means of employing the unemployed ; while
philanthropic labour is employment provided for
the unemployed with the same disregard of
profit as distinguishes pauper labour, but with a
greater regard for the poor, and as a means of
affording them relief in a less degrading manner

than is done unAer ihe present Peer Lmr.
Pauper and philanthropic lalMmr, thru, diffar
essentially from seH-iopperting kboor in Mng
non-prqfitable modes of employment; tet is to
say, they yield so hare sm e^milent fy tiie
sum expended upon the MKMRen, l9Mt none, n
the ordinary way of trade, can be fornid to pr»>
Tide the means necessary for putting then into
operation : while panper laboar differs from
philanthropic labour, in the fact that the fim^
requisite for " setting the poor on work " are pn^
vided by law as a matter of social polky, wbereM^
in the case of philanthropic labeur, the ftmds, or a
part of them, are supplied by voluntairy centrihn-
tions, out of a desire to improve the labourenT
condition. There ore, then, two distingiiislniij
fentores in all philanUiropic labour — ^the one is,
that it yields no profit (if it did it would become
a matter of trade), and the other, that it is in-
stituted and maintained from a wish to benefit the
hibourer.

The Street-Orderiy system fonts part ef the
operations on behalf of the poor adopted by a
society, of which Mr. Charies Goehnne is the
president, entitled the ''National Fhilanthropie
Association,** which is said to have for its object
" the promotion of social and salntiferoos improve-
ments, street cleanliness, and the employment ef
the poor, so that able-bodied men may be pre-
vented from barthening the parish-mto, and pre*
served independent of woikhonse, alms, and
degmdation." Here a twofold object is ex-
pressed : the Philanthropic Association seeks not
only to benefit the poor by giving them employ-
ment, and "^ preserving them independent of weik-
bouse, alms, and degradation," but to benefit the
public likewise, by "promoting social and salali-
ferous improvements and street cleanliness.** I
shall deal with each of these objects separately ;
but first let me declare, so as to remove all sus-
picion of private feelings tending in any way to
bias my judgment in this most importaat matter,
that I am an utter stranger to the President and
Council of the Philanthropic Association; and
that, whatever I may have to say on the subject
of the street-orderlies, I do simply in conformity
with my duty to the public — to state trmthfuUy all
that concerns the labourers and the peer of tht
metropolis.

Vtcteed economically, pJtilantJtropic and pauper
Kork may be said to be the reyHlatort of tite
minimum rate of tra^«— establishing the lowest
point to which competition can possibly drive
down the remuneration for labour ; for it is evi-
dent, that if the self-supporting labourer cannot
obtain greater comforts by the independent exer-
cise of his industry than the parish rates or private
charity will afford him, he will at once give over
working for the trading employer, and declare on
tlie funds raised by assessment or voluntary sub-
scription for his support. Hence, those who wish
well to the labourer, and who believe that cheap-
ness of commodities is desirable "only," as Mr.
Stewart Mill says (p. 502, vol. ii.), "when the
cause of it is, that their production costs little
hibour, and not when occasioned by that labour's

No. XLL

254

LONDOS^ LABOUR AJSTB TBE LONDOIT POOR.

Imng ni-ramunerated ;^ and who belieye, more-
OTer, that the labourer it to be benefited solely
by the coltiTation of a high standard of com-
fort among the people — to snch, I say, it
is evident, that a poor Uw which rednces the
x«lief to able-bodied labourers to the smallest
modiomi of food consistent with the con-
tinuation of life must be aboat the greatest
corse that can possibly come upon an OTer-popn-
lated country, admitting, as it does, of the induc-
tion of wages to so low a point of mere brutal ex-
istence as to induce that recklessness and
improridence among the poor which is known to
giTe so strong an impetus to the increase of the
people. A minimised rate of parish relief is
necessarily a minimized rate of wages, and admits
of the labourers' pay being reduced, by pauper
competition, to little short of starration; and
such, doubUessly, would hare been the case long
ago in the scsTaging trade by the employment of
parish labour, \uA not the Philanthropic Associa-
tion instituted the system of street-orderlies, and
by the payment of a higher rate of wages than
the more grinding parishes affi>rded — by giving
the men 1». instoid of 9s. or even 7s. a week —
pieTented the remuneration of the regular hands
being dragged down to an approximation to the
pariui level. Hence, rightly viewed, philanthropic
labour — and, indeed, pauper labour too— comes
under the head of a remedy for low wages, as
preventing, if properly regulated, the undue depre-
dation of industry from excessive competition, and
it is in this light that I shall now proceed to con-
sider it

The several pUns that have been propounded
from time to time, as remedies for an insufficient
rate of remuneration for work, are as multifarious
as the circumstances influencing the three requi-
sites for production — labour, capital, and land. I
will here run over as briefly as possible — abstaining
from the expression of all opinion on the subject —
the various schemes which have been proposed
with this object, so that the reader may come as
prepared as possible to the consideration of the
matter.

The remedies for low wages may be arranged
into two distinct groups, viz., those which seek to
increase the kbourer's rate of pay directly, and
those which seek to do so indirectly.

The direct remedies for low wages that have
been propounded are : —

A. The eitahlishment qf a ttandard raie of rt-
muneration for labour. This has been pro-
posed to be brought about by three different
means, viz. : —

1. By law or government authority ; either
(a) fixing the minimum rate of wages, and
leaving the variations above that point to
be adjusted by competition (this, as we
have seen, is the effect of the poor-law) ;
or, (6) settling the rate of wages generally
by means of local boards of trade for
conseiU de prud'hommeSf consisting of
delegates from the workmen and em-
ployers, to determine, by the principles of
natural equity, a reatonabte scale of remu-

2.

neratioii in the 'teveral trades, their deci-
sion beii^ binding in law on both the
employers and the employed.
. By public opinion; tms has been senerally
proposed by those who are what Mr.
Hill terms "shy of admitting the inter-
ference of authority in contracts for
labour," fearing that if the law intervened
it woidd do so rashly and ignoiantly, and
desiring to compass by fiunxU sanction
what they consider useless or dangerous to
attempt to bring about by teffal means.
" Every employer," says Mr. Mill, "they
think, ov^ht to give t^fficient wagti" and
if he does not give such wages willingly,
, he should be compelled to do so by public

opinion.
8. By trade societies or combination among
the workmen ; that is to say, by the pay-
ment of a small sum per week out of the
wages of the workmen, towards the form-
ation of a fund for the support of such of
their fellow operatives as may be out of
employment, or refuse to work for those
employers who seek to give less than the
standard rate of wages established by the
trade.

B. Ths proMbiHon <if itoppaga cr deductiont
of all kinds from the nominal wages of
worbnen. This is principally the object of
the Anti-Truck Society, which seeks to
obtain an Act of Parliament, enjoining the
payment in fiill of all wages. The stoppages
or extortions from woriunen's wages genenUly
consist of: —

1% Fines for real or pretended misconduct

2. Kents for tools, firiunes, gas, and sometimes
lodgings.

3. Sale of trade appliances (as trimmings,
thread, &c.) at undue prices.

4. Sale of food, drink, &c., at an exorbitant
rate of profit

5. Pa3rment in public-houses ; as the means
of inducing the men to spend a portion of
their earnings in drink.

6. Deposit of money as security before taking
out work ; so that the capital of the em-
ployer is increased without payment of
interest to the workpeople.

C. The inititution qf certain aids or additions
to woffes; as —

1. Perquisites or gratuities obtained from the
public; as with waiters, boxkeepers, coach-
men, dustmen, vergers, and others.

2. Beer money, and other " allowances " to
workmen.

3. Family work ; or the co-operation of the
wife and children as a means of increasing
the workman's income.

4. Allotments of land, to be cultivated after
the regular day's labour.

5. The parish " allowance system," or relief
in aid of wages, as practised under the old
Poor Law.

D. The increase qf the money value of xcages;
by—

LONDON LABOXTRANB THE LONDON POOR.

255

1. Cheap food.

2. Cheap lodgings; through bailding im-
proved dwellings for the poor, and doing
away with the profit of sub-letting.

8. Co-operatire stores; or the "dob system"
of obtaining provisions at wholesale prices.

4. The abolition of the payment of wages on
Snnday morning, or at to late an hour on
the Saturday niflht as to prevent the
labourer availing himself of the. Saturday's
market.

5. Teetotalism; as causing the men to spend
nothing in fermented drinks, and so leaving
them more to spend on food.

Such are the dirtei modes of remedying ^low
wages^ viz., either by preventing the price of
labour itself fidling below a certain standard;
prohibiting all stoppages from the pay of the la-
bourer; instituting certain aids or additions to
such pay ; or increasing the money value of the
ordinary wages by reducing the price of provisions.

The indirect modes of remedying low wages are
of a fitf more complex character. They consist of,
first, the remedies propounded by political econo-
mists, which are —

A. Tki decrease of the number of labourers;
for gaining this end several plans have been
proposed, as —

1. Checks against the increase of the popula-
tion, for which the following are the chief
Malthusian proposals : —

a. Preventive checks for the hindrance of

impregnation.
I. Prohibition of early marriages among

the poor.

c. Increase of the standard of comfort, or
requirements, among the people; as a
means of inducing prudence and re-
straint of the passions.

d. Infimticide ; as among the Chinese.

2. Bmigration ; as a means of draining off the
surplus labourers.

8. Limitation of apprentices in skilled trades;
as a means of preventing the undue in-
crease of particular occupations. This,
however, is advocated not by economists,
but generally by operatives.

4. Prevention of family work ; or the dis-
couragement of the labour of the wives and
diildren of operatives. This, again, can-
not be said to be an "economist" remedy.

B. Increase pf the circulating capital, or sum
set atide for the payment qf the labourers.

1. By government imposts. " Qovemments,"
says Mr. Mill, "can create additional in-
dustry by creating capital. They may hiy
on taxes, and employ the amount pro-
ductively." This was the object of the
origuial Poor Law (43 Blia.), which em-
powered the overseers of the poor to
"raise weekly, or otherwise, by taxation
of every inhabitant, &c., such sums of
money as they shall require for providing
a sufficient stock of flax, hemp, wool, and
other ware or stuff, to set the poor on work."

2. By the issue of paper money. The pro-

position of Mr. Jonathan Duncan is, that
the government should issue notes equiva-
lent to the taxation of the country, with
the view of affording increased employment
to the poor; the people being set to work
as it were upon credit, in the same manner
as the labourers were employed to build
the market-house at Guernsey.

C. The extension qf the markets ^ the country;
by the abolition of all restrictions on com-
merce, and the encouragement of the firee
interchange of commodities, so that, by in-
creasing the demand for our products, wo
may be able to a£fbrd employment to an
extra number of producers.

The above constitute what, with a few excep-
tions, may be termed, more particularly, the " eco-
nomist" remedies for low wages.

D. The regulation of the quantity qf wori done
by each workman, or the prevention of the
undue economising qf Uibour. For this end,
several means have been put forward.

1. The shortening the hours of labour, and
abolition of Sunday-work.

2. Alteration of the mode of work ; as the
substitution of day-work for piece-work, aa
a means of decreasing the stimuluf to over-
work.

3. Extension of the term of hiring ; by the
substitution of annual engagements ibr
daily or weekly hirings, .with a view to
the prevention of "casual labour."

4. Limitation of the number of hands em-
ployed by one capitalist ; so as to prevent
the undue extension of " the large system
of production."

5. Taxation of machinery; with the object,
not only of making it contribute its quota
to the revenue of the country, but of im-
peding its undue increase.

6. The discountenance of every form of work
that tends to the making up of a greater
quantity of materials with a less quantity
of labour; and consequently to the expendi-
ture of a greater proportion of the capital
of the country on machinery or materials,
and a correspondingly less proportion on
the labourers.

E. '^ Protective imposts,** or high import duties
on such foreign commodities as can be pro-
duced in this country; with the view of pre-
venting the labour of the comparatively
untaxed and uncivilised foreigner being
brought into competition with that of the
taxed and civilized producer at home.

F. "Financial r^orm" or reduction cf ike
iaxaiion of the country; as enabling the home
labourer the better to compete with the
foreigner.

The two latter proposals, and that of the exten-
sion of the markets, may be said to seek to
remedy low wages by expanding or circum-
scribing the foreign trade of the country.

Q. A different division qf the proceeds qf
labour. For this object sevml Khemes
have been propounded :-—

UB

LOJiDOSr LABOUR AND TBM LONDON POOR.

L TIm " tribute »]ritein**«fw«gML; or payment
of labour according to tbo additional Talue
wbich it confers oa tba outeriali oa which
it operate*,
2. Tfaa aboUtioa of thamiddlaman ; whether
"swaator/* " pieea-iaaatar," "lamper,** or
what Do^ cQouBg batwm the employer
and eaiployad.
2. Co-apcratian ; or joini^tock anociations of
kboorta^ with tha viaw o£ aboliahiag the
frofit of tha capitaliit coipkjer.
BL A differtnt aiacb <^ dittribuUng (Ac pro-
imcU qf labour/ with tha view of abolicbing
^ tha profit of the dealer, betwaen the producer
and conromer — as co-operatira st(ura% where
the consumers club together tat the purchase
af their goods directly of tha produoen.
L A fnore gemral and equal divuion </ the
wtalth qf the country : for altaining this and
there are but two known means : —
1. Coaununism ; or the abolition of all tights

ta indiridaal property.
S. Agapism; or the roluntaiy shariag of
indiTidual possessions with Uie leu fortu-
> Bate or successful members of the com-
munity.
These reinedies may, with a fisw excep-
tions (such as the tribute system of wages, aud
tbe abolition of middlemen), be said to constitute
tha socialist and communist schemes ibr the pre-
itntion of distress.
J. CreaUnff additional employmtnt for the
poor ; and so remoring the surplus labour
' from the market. Two modes of effecting
this hare been propoied : —

1. Home colonization, or the cultiration of
waste landa by the poor.

2. Ordcrlyism, or the employment of the
poor in the promotion of public cleanliness,
aiid the increased sanitary condition of the
country.

E. The prevention of the enclosure of com-
mons ; as the means of enabling the poor to
obtain gratuitous pasturage for their cattle.

L. The abolition qf m-iniogeniture ; with the
view of dividing the land among a greater
namber of individuals.

H. Tilt holding of the land hg the Slate, and
equal apportionment of it among the poor.

N. Extension qf the sufrage among tJie people;
and so allowing the workman, as well as the
capitalist and the landlord, to take part in
the formation of the laws of the country.
For this purpose there are two plans : —

1. "The freehold-land movement," which
seeks to enable the people to become pro-
prietors of as much land as will, under the
present hiw, give them "a voice ** in the
country.

2. Chartism, or that which seeks to alter the
law concerning the election of members of
Parliament, and to confer the right of
voting on cTery male of mature age, sound
mind, and non-criminal character.

0. CuUivation qf a higher moral and CJiris-
tian character among (ke people. This form

of remedy, which is advocated by many, is
based om the argument^ that, without some
mitigation of the " selfishness of the times," all
other schemes ibr improving the condition of
the p«4de will be either evaded by the
cunaing of the atk, or defisatcd by the
servility of the poor.
The above I believe to be a full and fiur state-
meat of the sevecal plana that have been proposed,
from time to Uaie^ fi>r alleviating the diatress of
the people. This enumeration is as comprehensive
as my knowledge will enable me to nuke it ; and I
have abstained fj»m all comment on the several
schemes, so that the reader may have an oppor-
tunity oif impartially weighing tke merits of each,
and lAopting that, which in his own mind, seems
best ealeulated to effect what, after all, we every
one desin — whether protectionist^ economist, free-
trader, phihinthropist, socialist, communist, or
chartist — the good of the oonntry in which we
live, and tbc people by whom we are surrounded.

Now we have to deal here with that particular
remedy for low wages or distreu which consists
in creating additional employment for the poor,
and of which the street-orderly system is an
example.

The increase of emplo3'ment for the' poor was
the main object of the 43 Eliz., for which pur-
pose, as we have seen, the overseers of the several
parishes were empowered to raise a fund by
assessments upon the property of the rich, for
providing " a sufficient stock of flax, hemp, wool,
and other ware or stuff, to set the poor on work."
But though economists, to this day, tell us that
'' while, on the one hand, industry is limited by
capital, so, on the other, every increase of capital
gives, or is capable of giving, additional employ-
ment to industry, and this without assignable
limit,"* nevertheless the great difficulty of car-
rying out the provisions of the original poor-law
has consisted in finding a market for the products
of pauper labour, for the frequent gluts in our
manufactures are sufficient to teach us that it is
one thing to produce and another to dispose of
the products ; so that to create additional employ-
ment for the poor something besides capital is
requisite : it is necessary either that they shall be
engaged in producing that which they themselves
immediately consume, or that for which the
market admits of being extended.

The two plans proposed for the employment of
the poor, it will be seen, consist (1) in the culti-
vation of waste lands; (2) in promoting public
cleanliness, and so increasing the sanitary condition
of the coimtry. The first, it is evident, removes
the objection of a market being needed for the
products of the labour of the poor, since it pro-

♦ This is Mr. MiHs's ■fc<md fundamenttd proposition
rMpecttaif; capiul (see •* Princiiilet of Pul. Econ." p. 93,
vol. i. ). " What 1 intend to Msien u," utys that gentlcnaau*
•* thai the portion (of capital) which u destlneti to the
maintenance of tlie labouft-n may— supposing no in-
crease in anything else— be indefinitely increased, witlv
out creating an impossibility of finding them employ-
ment—hi other words, if there are human beings capa-
ble of work, and food to feed them, they mxy alwa^i be
em^oyod in producing aom^hing."

LOSTDON LABOUR AND THE LONDOK POOiU

267

poMf UmU their «neivi«i should be deyoted to the
producttoQ of the food which they themielrei
eoncaiM ; while the seeoad aeeke to create addi-
tional employment in effecting that increaaed
cleanlineM which more enlightened phyiiological
Tiews hare not only made more deuraUe, but
taught ng to be abeolubely neeeeaary to the health
and enjoyment of the conunnni^.

The great impediment^ howerer^ to the profit-
able employment of the poor, haa genecally been
the unprodttctive or unanuling character of pauper
labour. Thie hat been mainly owing to the iact
that the able-bodied who are deprived of employ-
ment are necf warily the lowest gmde of operas
tires ; for, in the dispUcement of workmen^^piose
are the first discarded whose hibour is found to
be the least efficient, either irom a deficiency of
skill, industry, or sobriety, so that pauper labour
if necessarily of the least productiTe character.

Another great difficulty with the empbyment
of the poor is, that the idle, or those to whom
work is more than usually irksome, require a
stronger inducement than ordinary to moke them
labour, and the remuneration for parish work
being necessarily less than for any other, those
who are pauperised through idleness (the most
benoTolent anumg us must allow there are such)
are naturally less than ever disposed to labour
when they become paupers. All pauper work,
therefore, is generally unproductive or unavail-
ing, because it is either inexpert or unwilling
woric The labour of the in-door paupers, who re-
ceive only their food for their pains, is necessarily
of the same compulsory character as slavery;
while that of the outdoor paupers, with the re-
muneration often cut down to the lowest subsist*
ing point, ia Karesly of a more willing or more
availing kind.

Owing i^ this general unprodnctivenesg, (as well
as the difficulty A finding a field for the profitable
employment of the unemployed poor,) the labour
of paupers has been for a long time post directed
mainly to the cleansing of the public thorough-
foxes. Still, from the degrading nature of the
oecnpation, and the small remuneration for the
toil, paaper labourers have been found to be such
unwilling workers that many parishes have long
since given over employing their poor even in
this capacity, preforring to entrust the work to a
contnctor, with his paid self-supporting operatives.

The fonder of the Philanthropic Association
appears to have been fully aware of the two great
dtflkaltiaa besetting the profitable employment of
the poor, viz., (1) finding a field for uie exercise
of their labours where they might be ''set on work "
with beoefit to the community, and without in-
jury to the independent operatives already en-
gaged in the same occupation; and (^ overcoming
the uawiUingBess, and consequently the unavoU-
ingneas, of pauper labour.

The first difficulty tfr. Cochrane has endea-
voured to obviate by taking advantage of that
growing desire for greater public cleanliness which
has arisen from the increased knowledge of the
principles governing the health of towns; and the

second, by giving the men 12«. instead of 9«. or
7s. a week, or worse than all. Is. \\d, and a
quartern loaf a day for three days in the week,
and so not only augmenting the stimulus to
work (for it should be remembered that wages
are to the human machine what the fire is to
the steam-engine), but preventing the undue
depreciation of the Ubour of the independent
workman. He who discovers the means of increaa*
ing the rewards of labour, is as great a friend
to his race as he who strives to depredate
them is the public enemy; and I do not hesi-
tate to confess, that I look upon Mr. Gharl«i
Cochrane as one of the illustrious few who, in
these days of onremunerated toil, and their neces-
sary concomitants — beggars and thieves, has come
forward to help the labourers of this country
from their daily-increasing degradation. Hu
benevolence is of that enlightened order which
seeks to extend rather than destroy the self-trust
of the poor, not only by creating; additional em-
ployment for them, but by rendering that employ-
ment lesa repulsive.

The means by which Mr. Cochrane has endea-
voured to gain these ends constitutes the system
called Street-Orderlyism, which therefore admits of
being viewed in two distinct aspects — ^first, as a
new mode of improving " the health of towns,"
and, secondly, as an improved method of employ*
ing the poor.

Concerning the first, I must confess that the
system of scavaging or cleansing the public
thoroughfores pursued by the streetK>rderlies
assumes, when contemplated in a sanitary point
of view, all the importance and simplicity of a
great discovery. It has been before pointed out
that this system consists not only in cleansing
the streets, but in hetpingihtm clean. By the
street-orderly method of scavaging, the thorough-
fiures are continually being cleansed, and so never
allowed to become dirty ; whereas, by the ordi-
nary method, they are not cleansed until they are
dirty. Hence the two modes of scavaging are
diametrically opposed ; under the one the streets
are cleansed as £ut as dirtied, while under the
other they are dirtied as fiist as cleansed ; so that
by the new system of scavaging the public tho-
roughfiires are maintained in a perpetual state of
cleanliness, whereas by the old they may be said
to be kept in a continual state of dirL

The street-orderly system of scavaging, however,
is not only worthy of high commendation as a more
efiicient means of gaining a particular end — a
simplification of a certain process — but it calls fiir
our highest praise as well for the end gained as
for the means of gaining it If it be really a
sound physiological principle, that the Creator has
made dirt offensive to every rightly- constituted
mind, because it is injurious to us, and so esta-
blished in us an instinct, before we could discover
a reason, for removing all refuse from our presence,
it becomes, now that we have detected the cause
of the foeling in us, at once disgusting and irra-
tional to allow the filth to accumulate in our
streets in front of our houses. If typhus, cholera^
and other pestilences are but divine punishments

258

LONDOir LABOUR JtND THE LONTHiN POOR.

inflicted on as for the infnction of that most
kindly law by which the health of a people has
been made to depend on that which is natunlly
agreeable— cleanliness, then our instinct for self-
preierration should force us, eren if our sense of
enjoyment would not lead us, to remore as fitst as
it is formed what is at once as dangerous as it
should be repulsire to our natures. Sanitarily
regnrded, the cleansing of a town is one of the
most important objects that can engage the atten-
tion of its goremors ; the remotal of its refuse
being quite as necessary for the continuance of
the existence of a people as the supply of their
food. In the economy of Nature there is no loss :
this the .great doctrine of waste and supply has
taught us ; the detritus of one rock is the con-
glomerate of another; the oTaporation of the
ocean is the source of the rirer; the poisonous
exhalations of animals the rital air of plants ; and
the refuse of man and beasts the food of their
food. The dust and cinders from our fires, the
"slops" from the washing of our houses, the excre-
tions of our bodies, the detritus and "surface-
water" of our streets, hare all their offices to
perform in the great scheme of creation ; and if
left to rot and fust about us not only injure our
health, but diminish the supplies of our food. The
filth of the thorough&res of the metropolis forms,
it would appear, the staple manure of the market-
gardens in the suburbs ; out of the London mud
come the London cabbages : so that an improve-
ment in the scaraging of the metropolis tends not
only to give the people improved health, but im-
proved vegetables ; for that which is nothing but
a pestiferous muck-heap in the town becomes a
vivifying garden translated to the country.

Dirt, however, is not only as prejudicial to our
health and offensive to our senses, when allowed to
accumulate in our streets, as it is beneficial to us
when removed to our gardens, — but it is a most
expensive commodity to keep in front of our
houses. It has been shown, that the cost to the
people of London, in the matter of extra washing
induced by defective scavaging, is at the least
1,000,000^ sterling per annum (the Board of
Health estimate it nt 2,500,000/.) ; and the loss
from extra wear and tear of clothes from brushing
and scrubbing, arising from the like cause, is about
the same prodigious sum ; while the injury done
to the furniture of private houses, and the goods
exposed for sale in shops, though impossible to be
estimated — appears to be something enormous : so
that the loss from the defective scavnging of the
metropolis seems, at the lowest calculation, to
amount to several millions per annum ; and hence
it becomes of the highest possible importance,
economically as well as physiologically, that the
streets should be cleansed in the most effective
manner.

Now, that the street-orderly system is the only
rational and efficacious mode of street cleansing
both theory and practice assure us. To allow the
filth to accumulate in the streets before any steps
are taken to remove it, is the same as if we were
never to wash our bodies until they were dirty —
it is to be perpetually striving to cure the disease.

when with learcely any more trouble we might
prevent it entirely. There is, indeed, the same
difference between the new and the old system of
scavaging, as there is between a bad and a good
housewite : the one never cleaning her house until
it is dirty, and the other continually cleaning it,
so as to prevent it being ever dirty.

Hence it would appear, that the street-orderly
system of scavaging would be a great public
benefit, even were there no other object connected
with it than the increased cleanliness of our
streets; but in a country like Great Britain,
afflicted as it is with a surplus population (no
matter from what cause), that each day finds the
difficulty of obtaining work growing greater, the
opening up of new fields of employment for the
poor is perhaps the greatest benefit that can be
conferred upon the nation. Without the dis-
covery of such new fields, " the setting the poor
on work" is merely, as I have said, to throw out
of employment those who are already employed ;
it is not to decrease, but really to increase, the
evil of the times — to add to, rather than diminish,
the number of our paupers or our thieves. The
increase of employment in a nation, however, re-
quires, not only a corresponding increase of
capital, but a like increase in the demand or
desire, as well as in the pecuniary means, of the
people to avail themselves of the work on which
the poor are set (that is to say, in the extension of
tne home market) ; it requires, also, some mode of
stimulating the energies of the workers, so as to
make them labour more willingly, and consequently
more availingly, than usual. These conditions
appear to have been fulfilled by Mr. Cochrane, in
the establishment of the street-orderlies. He has
introduced, in connection with this body, a system
of scavaging which, while it employs a greater
number of bmds, produces such addi^nal bene-
fits as cannot but be considered an equivalent for
the increased expenditure; though it is even
doubtful whether, by the collection of the street
manure unmixed with the mud, the extra
value of that article alone will not go far to com-
pensate for the additional expense; if, however,
there be added to this the saving to the metropolitan
parishes in the cost of watering the streets — for
under the street- orderly system this is not re-
quired, the dust never being allowed to accumu-
late, and consequently never requiring to be " laid "
— as well as the greater saving of converting the
paupers into self-supporting labourers; together
with the diminished expense of washing and
doctors' bills, consequent on the increased cleanli-
ness of the streets — there cannot be the least doubt
that the employment of the poor as street-
orderlies is no longer a matter of philanthropy,
but of mere commercial prudence.

Such appear to me to be the principal objects
of Mr. Cochrane's street-orderly system of scavag-
ing ; and it is a subject upon which I have spoken
the more fireely, because, being unacquainted with
that gentleman, none can suspect me of being pre-
judiced in his fovonr, and because I have felt that
the good which he has done and is likely to do
to the poor, has been comparatively unacknow-

LONDON LABOUR AND rSE LONDON POOR.

250

ledged by the public, and tbat Bodetj and the
people owe him a heayy debt of giatitade*.

I shall now proceed to set forth the character of
the labour, and the condition and remuneration of
the labourers in connection with the street-orderlj
system of scavaging the metropolitan thorough&res.

The first appearance of the streetH>rderlies in
the metropolis was in 1848. Mr. Charles Cochrane,
who had previously formed the National Phi-
lanthropic Association, with its eleemosynary soup-
kitchens, &c., then introduced the system of street-
orderlies, as one enablinff many destitute men to
support themselres by ueir labour ; as well as,
in his estimation, a better, and OTentually a more
economical, mode of streetrcleansing, and partaking
also somewhat of the character of a street police.

The first " demonstFation," or display of the
street-orderly system, took place in Regent-street,
between the Quadrant and the Begent-circus, and
in Oxford-street, between Yere-street and Charles-
street The streets were thoroughly swept in
the morning, and then each man or boy, provided
with a hand-broom and dust-pan, removed any dirt
as soon as it was deposited. The demonstration
was pronounced highly successful and the system
effective, in the opinion of eighteen influential
inhabitants of the locality who acted as a com-
mittee, and who publicly, and with the authority
of their names, testified their conviction that " the
mott efficient means of keeping streets clean, and
more especially great thoroughfiires, was to pre-
vent the accumulation of dirt, by removing the
manure within a few minutes after it has been
deposited by the passing cattle ; the same havmg,
hitherto, remained during several days."

The cost of this demonstration amounted to
about 4002., of which, the lleport states, " 200/.
still remains due from the shop-keepers to the
Association; which,** it is delicately added, ''from
late commercial difficulties they have not yet
repaid" (in 1860).

Whilst the street-orderlies were engaged in cleans-
ing Begent-street, &c., the City Commissioners of
the sewers of London were invited to depute some
person to observe and report to them concerning
the method pursued ; but with that instinctive sort
of repugnance which seems to animate the great
bulk of city officials against improvement of any
kind, the reply was, that they ** did not consider
the same worthy their attention." The matter,
however, was not allowed to drop, and by the
persevering eflEbrts of Mr. Cochrane, the president,
and of the body of gentlemen who form the Council
of the Association, Cheapside, Comhill, and the most
important parts of the very heart of the city were at
length cleansed according to the new method. The
ratepayers then showed that (A<y, at least, did
consider " the same worthy of attention," for 8000
out of 12,000 within a few days signed memorials
recommending the adoption of what they pro-
nounced an improvement, and a public meeting
was held in Ghiildhall (May i, 1846), at which

« Mr. Cochrane U said, in the Reports of the National
Philanthropic AsiociaUon, to have expended no less than
OOOiir. of his fortune in the hutitutkm of the Strsst-
Orderly system of scava|{inff.

resolutions in &vour of the ttreet«rder]y method ' t
were passed. The authorities did not adopt these
recommendations, but they ventured so far to depart
from their venerable routine as to order the
streeU to be " swept every day I " This employed
upwards of 300 men, whereas at the period when
the sages of the city sewers did not consider any
proposed improvement in scavagery worthy their
attention, the number of men employed by them
in cleansing the streeU did not exceed 80.

The street-orderly system was afterwards tried
in the parishes of St Paul, Covent-garden, St
James (Westminster^, St. Martin-in-the-Fields,
St Anne, Soho,and otners — sometimes calling forth
opposition, of course frt>m the authorities con-
nected with the established modes of paving,
scavaging, &c.

It is not my intention to write a complete his-
tory of the street-orderlies, but merely to sketch
their progress, as well as describe their peculiar
characteristics.

Within these few months public meetings
have been held in almost every one of the 20
wards of the City, at which approving resolutions
were either passed unanimously or carried by large
majorities ; and the street-orderly system is now
about to be introduced into St. Martin's parish
instead of the street-sweeping machine.

As fiir as the street-orderly system has been
tried, and judging only by the testimony of public
examination and public record of opinion, the trial
has certainly been a success. A memorial to the
Court of Sewers, from the ward of Broad-street,
supported by the leading merchants of that locality,
in recommendation of the employment of street-
orderlies, seems to bear more closely on the subject
than any I have yet seen.

"Tour memorialists," they state, "have ob-
served that those public thoroughfiires within the
city of London which are now cleansed by street-
orderlies, are so rtmarkably cUan as to be almost
free from mud in wH, and dust in. dry weather —
that *«cA extreme eleajdijiess is qf great comfort to
the public, and tends to improve the sanitary con-
dition of the ward."

But it is not only in the metropolis that the
street-orderlies seem likely to become the esta-
blished scavagers. The streets of Windsor, I am
informed, are now in the course of being cleansed
upon the orderly plan. In Amsterdam, there are
at present 16 orderlies regularly employed upon
scavaging a portion of the city, and in Paris and
Belgium, I am assured, arrangements are being
made for the introduction of the system into both
those cities. Were the st^ee^orderly mode of
scavaging to become general throughout this
country, it is estimated that employment would be
given to 100,000 labourers, so that, with the
families of these men, not less than half a million
of people would be supported in a state of inde-
pendence by it The total number of adult able-
bodied paupers relieved — in-door and out-door —
throughout England and Wales, on January 1,
1850, was 154,625.

The following table shows the route of the street-
orderly operations in the metropolis. A further

260

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON VOQR,

column, in the Report from whkh t]ie table Im* been
extracted, contaiDed the nuiei of thirteen oleigy-
men who have " weekly read pmyen and delircrad

disceufsea Id the ttreetrordcrliea at tbdr respec-
tive fitationi, and rcoeided flattering testimonials of
their conduct uid. denwanonr."

EMPLOYMENT OP STREET-ORDERLIES.

LocALirns Cliarsed.

1843-4. Oxford and Begent BtreeU ....

1815. 8tnnd

1845-6. Cheapaide, ComhiU, &c., City of London .
1^46-7. St Maii^ret't and St. John's, Westminster

1847. Piccadilly, fit James's, &c

1848. Strand

1^8. St. Martin's Lane, &c

1846. Piccadilly, St JiMs's, &c

1848-9. €t Paul's, Covent Garden ....

1849. Regent Street, Whitehall, he

1849. St Giles's and St. George's, Bloomsbury .

1849. St Paneras, New Road, &c

1849. fit Andreir'f and St George's, Holbom. .

1849. Lambeth Parish

1851. St Martin's-in-tbo-Fields

1851. City of London, Cental Districts (per i\'eok,

during 6 weeks last past) ....

Total

No. of

WWet and

MoDer

Street-

Children

Orderlies.

expoided

£ i.

d.

50

256

560 0

0

6

—

38 0

0

100

368

1540 2

0

15

65

806 0

0

8

82

115 0

0

8

31

35 0

0

88

138

153 0

0

48

108

ft41 3

0

13

38

38 10

0

18

68

98 0

0

U

71

58 1

0

16

46

177 6

0

23

83

63 4

9

16 .

41

84 16

0

0^

179

119 3

4

108

378

55 0

0

546

1897*

3782 6

1

The period of nine years comprised in theaboTO
statement (1843 and 1851 being both included)
gives a yearly average* om to the number of the
poor employed, exceeding 60, with a similar aterage
of 210 wives and children, and n yearly average
outlay of 420/. The number of orderlies now
employed by the Association is from 80 to 90.

Such, then, is n brief account of tho rise and
progress of this new mode of street-sweeping, and
we now come to a description of the work itself.

*' The orderlies," says the Report of the Asso-
ciation, "keep the streets free from mud in
winter, and dust in summer ; and that with the
least possible personal drudgery : — adhering to the
principle of operation kid down, viz., that of
* Cleanting and keeping Clean,* thoy have merely,
after each morning's sweeping and removal of dirt,
to keep a vigilaut look-out over the surface of street
allotted to them ; and to remove with the hand-
brush and Uust-pan, from any particular spot,
whatever dirt or rubbish may fall upon it, cU the
moment <^ its deposit. Thus are the streets under '
their care kept constantly clean.

" But sweeping and removing dirt," con-
tinues the Report, " is not the only occupation
of the street-orderly, whiUt keeping up a careful
inspection of tho ground allotted to him. He
is aUo the watchman of house-property and
shop-goods ; the guardian of reticules, pocket-
books, purses, and watch-pockets; — the expe-
rienced observer and detector of pickpockets;
the ever re.idy, thou^'h unpaid, auxiliary to the
police consUible. Kay, more ;— he is olwoys at
hiiud, to render assistance to both equestrian and

pedestrian : if a horse slip, stumble, or fisll, — if
a carriage break down, or vehicles conn into col-
lision, — the street-orderly darts forward to raise
and rectify them : if foot-passengers be run over,
or knocked down, or incautiously loiter on a cross-
ing, the street-orderly rescues them from peril or
death ; or warns them of the approaching danger
of carriages driving in opposite directions : if other
accidents befall pedestrians, — if they f^dl on tho
pavement, from sudden illness, iaintness, or apo-
plexy, the street-orderly is at hand to render
assistance, or convey them to the nearest surgery
or hospital. If strangers are at fault as to the
localities of London, or the place of their destina-
tion, the orderly, in a civil and respectful manner,
directs them on their way. If habitual or .pro-
fessional mendicants ore importunate or trouble-
some, the street- orderly warns them off; or hands
them to the care of the policeman. And if a
really poor or starving fellow-creature wanders in
search of food or alms, he leads him to a work-
house or soup-kitchen*.

"Should the systcvi become general {of which
dure is now every good prosjiect), it inll be the

• A street-orderly in St Martin'»-Ume recovered a
jilrco of brcad-doth frotn anum who had just stolen it
from a warehouse ; others in I>rury-lane detected several
tlwfts frotn proviiion-shopi. Twu orderhes in Hciilvjm
^arctl the lives of the guard and driver uf one of ilcr
M.-^e^ly'« mail-carts, tne horse having become un-
niunageable in cnnseaucnec of the shafts being broken.
In St. Marjr's Church. Lambeth, a gentleman having
falltn down in a^H)plexy, the orderlies who were attend-
ing Divir.o service, carried him out into the air, and
)trumptly iirorured htm medical aid, but unhappily life
was extinct. Many instances have occurred, however,
in which they have rendered essential service to the pub-
lic and to individuals.

LONDON LABOUR AND TEE LONDON FOOJL

sei

^ retcvuing no lets Ukan. tsh shouhakd
PABSOHS aMi tiuir favtilits from cUstUution and
distreu (in London alone) ; — from the forlorn
and wretched condition which tempts to crimi-
nality and outrage, to that of comfort, independ-
ence, and happine«9 — produced by their own in-
dustry, aided by the kind consideration of those
who are more the fiivourites of fortune than
themselves.

" In conclusion it may be stated, that the
street-orderly system will keep the streets and
pavements of London and Westminster as clean
as the court'yard and hall of any gentleman's
private dwelling: it will not only secure the
general comfort and health of upwards of two
millious of people, but save a vast annual amount
to shopkeepers, housekeepers, and otiiers, with
regard to the spoiling of their goods by dust and
dirt ; in the wear and tear of clothes and funii-
turo, by an eternal round of brushing, dusting,
scouring, and scrubbing."

The foregoing extract fully indicates the system
punned and results of street-ordcrlyisro. I will
now deal with what may be considered the labour
or trade part of tka question.

By the street-orderly plan a district is duly
apportioned. To one man is assigned the care of
a series of courtM, a street, or 500, 1000, 1200,
1500, or 2000 yards of a public way, according
to its traffic, after the whole surface has been
swept "the first thing in the morning." In
Oxford-street, for instance, it has been estimated
that 500 yards can be kept clear of the dirt con-
tinually being deposited by one man; in the
squares, where there is no great traffic, 2000 yards;
while in ao bnty a part as Cheapside, some nine
men will be required to be hourly on the look-out
These street-orderlies are confined to their beats as
strictly as an policeman, and as they soon become
known to the inhabitants, it is a means of check-
ing any disposition to loiter, or to shirk the work ;
to say nothing of the corps of inspectors and super-
intendents.

The diwision of Uibaur among the street-order-
lies is as folio w« : —

1. The fortman, whose duty is to " look over
the men** (one such over-looker being employed to
about erery 20 men), and who receives 1 5s. per week.

2. The barrow-men, or sweepers, consisting of
men and hoyn; the former receiving 12s. and the
latter generally 7». per week.

The tools and implements used, and their cost,
are as follows : — ^wooden scoops, to throw up the
slop. Is. 2d. each (they used to be made of iron,
weighing 8 lbs. each, but the men then complained
that the weight ** broke their arms ") ; shovel,
2s. 2d. ; hoe and scraper, Is. Zd. ; hand-broom,
Sd. ; Bcavagcr's broom, 1*. 2d. ; barrow, 12*. ;
covered barrow, 24*.

In the amount of his receipts, the street-
orderly appears to a disadvantage, as many of
the "regular hands" of the contractors receive
16*. weekly, and he but 12*. The reason
for this circumscribed payment I have already
alluded to — the deficiency of funds to carry out
the full purposes of the Association. Contrasted

with the remuneration of the great majority of
the pnuper scavagers, the street-orderly is in a
state of comparative comfort, for he receives nearly
double as much oa the Guardians <tf the Poor of
Chelsea and the Liberty of the Rolls pay their
labourers, and full 25 per cejit more than is paid by
Bormondsey, Deptford, Marylebone, St. James's,
Westminster, St. George's, Hanover-square, and
St. Andrew's, Holbom ; and, I am assured, it ii
the intention of the Council to pay the full rate of
wages given by the more respectable acftyagen,
yiz., 16*. a week each man. Jf tracers can do
tJiiSf philanthropists f ftho require no profit, at
least should he equally liberal. The labourer
never can be benefited by depreciating the ordl-
nar}' wages of his trade; and I must in justice con-
fess, that there are scattered throughout the Bepoft
repeated regrets that the funds of the Association
will«otadmitof a higher rate of wages being paid.
The street-orderly is not subjected to any fines
or drawbacks, and is paid always In Honey, every
Saturday evening at the office of the AssocLition.
In this respect, however, ha does not differ fxoin
other bodies of scavagers.

The usual mode of obtaining employment among
the street-orderlies is by personal application at
the office of the Association in Leicester-square;
but sometimes letters, well-penned and wel^
worded, are addressed to the president.

The doily number of applicanU for employment
is far from demonstrative of that unbroken pros-
perity of the country, of which we hear so much.
On my inquiring into the number, I ascertained
towards the end of August, that, for the previous
fortnight, during fine summer weather, London
being still full of the Tisitors to the Exhibition,
on an average 80 men, of nearly all conditions
of life, applied personally each day for work nt
street-sweeping, at 12*. a week. Certainly this
labour is not connected with the feeling of pauper
degradation, but it does not look well for the country
that in twelve days 860 men should apply for sudh
work. On the year's average, I am assure€,
there are 80 applications daily, but only ten new
applicants, as men call to solicit nn engagement
again and again. Thus in the year there are
nine thousand, three hundred, and ninety ap-
plications, and 8130 individual applicants. In j
the course of one month last winter, there were
applications from 800 boys in Spitalfields alone,
to be set to work; and I am told, that had
they been successful, 8000 lads would have ap-
plied the next month.

When an application is made by any one re-
commended by subscribers, &c., to the Association,
or where the case seems worthy of attention, the
names and addresses are entered in a book, with
a slight sketch of the circumstances of the person
wishing to become a street-orderly, so that inquuries
may be made. I give a few of the more recent
of these entries and* descriptions, which are really
" histories in little" : —

" Thomas M'G , nged 60, W— L— street,

Chelsea Hospital, single man. Taught n French
and English school in Lyons, France. Driven out
of France at the Eevolution of 1843. Pennilesi.

M2

LONDON LABOUR AND THB LONDON POOR.

"Eicli. H ,13,0 street, H garden,

42 jean. Married. Can read and write. Haa
be«i a Ml' n Mil in the royal terrice ten yean.
Chairmaker by trade. Has jobbed as a porter in
Bochester, Kent.

"PhiL S , 1, R— L— street, Higb Hoi-

bom. From Killamey, co. Kerry. Bred a

rlener. Fifteen yean in constabnlary force,
wkicb be has a character from CoL Macgregor,
and received the compensation of 50/., which he
bestowid on his fiither and mother to keep them
at home. Nine months in England, viz., in
Bristol, Bath, and Londoa Aged S5. Can read
and write.

• "Edw. C , 79, M— street, Hackney.

Aged 27. Married. Army-pensioner, 6d. a day.
Cut read and write. Beconmiended by Ber. T.
Gibson, rector of Hackney.

' "Chas. J , 11, D-^ street, ChUsea.

Aged 38. Chntleman's serrant"

In my account of the "itgular bands" em-
ployed by the contracting scavagers, I have stated
that the street-orderlies jnrere a more miscellaneous
body, as they had not been reared in the same
proportion to street work. They are alM, I may
add, a better-conducted and better-informed class
than the general run of unskilled labouren, as
they know, before applying for street-orderly
work, that inquiries are made concerning them,
and that men of reprobate character will not be
employed.

Many of tbose employed as orderlies hare
since returned to their original employments;
othen have procured, and been recommended to,
ioperior situations in life to that of stree^
orderlies, by the Council of the Association, but
no ifutance hat occurred qf any street-orderly
having returned haei to his parish vorkhousc
or tUmeyard" This certainly looks well.

One street^orderly, I may add, is now a re-
putable school-master, and nas been so for some
time; another is a clerk under similar circum-
f tances. Another is a good theoretical and prac-
tical musician, having officiated as organist in
churches and at concerts ; he is also a neat music
copyist Another tells of his correspondence with
a bishop on theological topics. Another, with a
long and well-cultured beard, has been a model
for artists. One had 150/. left to him not long
ago, which was soon spent ; his wife spent it, ho
said, and then he quietly applied to be permitted
to be again a street-orderly. Several have got
ensagements as seamen, their original calling —
indeed^ I am assured, that a few months of street-
orderly labour is looked upon as an excellent
ordeal of character, after which the Association
affirms good behaviour on the part of the employed.

The subscriben to the funds not unfrequently
recommend destitute persons to the good offices of
tbe Association, apart from their employment as
street-orderlies. Thus, it is only a few weeks
ago, that twelve Spanish refugees, none of them
speaking English, were recommended to the Asso-
ciation ; one of them it was ultimately enabled to
esUblish as a waiter in an hotel resorted to by
ibreignen, another as an interpreter, another as a

gentlemaak lerrant, and another (with a little
boy, his son) in shoe-blacking in Leicester-square.

Thus among street-orderlies are to be found a
great diversity of career in life, and what may be
called adventnrei.

One great advantage, however, which the orderly
possesses over his ^tter paid brethren is in the
greater probability of his "rising out of the
street." Tbis is very rarely the case witb an
ordinary scai«ger.

I now give the following account from one of
the street-orderlies, a tall, soldierly-looking man : —

" I *m 42 now," he said, " and when I was a
boy and a young man I was employed in the
Times machine office, but got into a bit of a row
— a bit of a street quarrel and hoWc, and wai
called on to pay 3/., something about a street-lamp :
that was out of the question; and as I was
taking a walk in the park, not just knowing what
I 'd best do, I met a recruiting sergeant, and en-
listed on a sudden — all on a sudden — in the 16th
Lancers. When I came to the standard, though,
I was found a little bit too short Well, I was
rather frt>licsome in those days, I confess, and
perhaps had rttther a turn for a roving life, so
when the sergeant said he 'd take me to tbe Bast
India Company's recruiting sergeant, I consented,
and was accepted at once. I was taken to Cal-
cutta, and served under G^eral Nott all through
the A%han vrar. I was in the Bast India Com-
pany's artillery, 4th company and 2nd battalion.
Why, yes, sir, I saw a little of what you may call
'service.' I was at the fighting at Candahar,
Bowlinglen, Bowling-pass, Clatigillsy, Ghnsneef
and Caboul. The first real warm woric I was in
was at Candahar. I 've heard young soldien say
that they've gone into action the fint time as
merry as they would go to a play. Don't believe
them, sir. Old soldiers will tell you quite dif-
ferent Ton must feel queer and serious the first
time you 're in action : it 's not fear — it 's ner-
vousness. The crack of the muskets at tbe first
fire jrou hear in real hsird earnest is uncommon
startling ; you see the fiash of the fire from the
enemy's line, but very little else. Indeed, oft
enough you see nothing but smoke, and hear no-
thing but balls whistling every side of yoiL And
then you get excited, just as if you were at a
hunt ; but after a little service— I can speak for
myself, at any rate— you go into action as you
go to your dinner.

" I served during the time when there was the
Aifghanistan retreat; when the 44th was com-
pletely cut up, before any help could get up to
them. We suffered a good deal from want of
sufficient food ; but it was nothing like so bad, at
the very wont, as if you 're suffering in London.
In India, in that war time, if you suffered, you
were along with a number in just tbe same boat
as yourself; and there's always something to
hope for when you're an army. It's different
if you 're walking the streets of London by your-
self— I felt it, sir, for a little bit after my return
— and if you haven't a penny, you feel as if there
wasn't a hope. If you have friends it may be
different, but I had none. It's no comfort if

::

^,.ihih.Vjfi'f,

THE ABLE-BODIED PAUrER SXnEET-SWEEPEB.

LOmOON LABOUR AND TSE LONJiOK JPOOM.

263

jou know hundreds sre vuffering n yoo me, for
you can't help and cheer one another as soldiers
! can.

"Well, sir, as I 're toH you, I saw a good deal
of service all through that war. Indeed I serred
thirteen years and four months, and was then
discharged on account of ill health. If I 'd served
eight months longer that would have heen fourteen
years, and I should have heen entitled to a pen-
sion. I hclieve my illneH was caused by r^e
hardships I went through in the campaigns, fight-
ing and killing men that I never saw before, and
until I WAS in India had never heard of, and that
I had no ill-will to ; eertainly not, why shonM 1 1
they never did me any wrong. But when it
comes to war, if you can't kill them they '11 kill
you. When I got baek to London I applied at
the East India Home for a pension, but was
refused. I hadn't lervid my time, though that
wasn't my feult.

" I then applied for work in the Timet machine
office, and they were kind enough to put me on.
But I wasn't master of the work, for there was
new machinery, wonderful machinery, and a many
changes. 8o I couldn't be kept on, and was
some time out of work, and very badly o£f, as
I 've said before, and then I got work as a sca-
venger. 0, 1 knew nothing about sweeping before
that. I *d new swept anything except the snow
in the north of India, which is quite a different
■ort of thing to London dirt But I very soon
got into the way of it. I found no difficulty
about it, though some may pretend there is an
art in it. I Iwd 15«. a week, and when I was
no longer wanted I got employment as a street-
orderly. I never was married, and have only
myself to provide for. I'm satisfied that the
street-orderly is for -the hett plan for street>clean>
ing. Nothing else can touch it, in my opinion,
and I thought so before I was one of them, and
I believe most working scavengers think so now,
though they mayn't like to say so, for fear it might
go again .thttir interest

"Oh, yes, I'm flometimes questioned by
gentlemen that may be passing in the streets
while I 'm at work, all about our system. They
generally say, 'and a very good system,
too.' One said once, 'It shows that scavengers
can be decent men; they weren't when I was
first in London, above 40 years ago.' Well, I
sometimes get the price of a pint of beer given to
me by gentlemen making inquiries, but very
seldom."

Until about eighteen months ago none but un-
married men were employed by the Association,
and these all resided in one locality, and under
one general superintendence or system. The
boarding and lodging of the men has, however,
been diseontinued about fifteen months ; for I am told
it was found difficult to encourage industrial and
self-reliant pursuits in connection with public elee-
mosynary aid. Married men are now employed,
and all the street-orderlies reside at their own
homes; the adults, married or single, receiving
12«. a week each; the boys, 6s.; while to each
man is gratuitously supplied a blouse of blue

serge, costing 2s. 6d., and a ghized hat, costing
the sane amount.

The system formeriy adopted was as fol-
lows:—

The men were formed into, a distinct body, and
established in houses taken for them in Ham-yard,
Qreat Wiadmill-street, Haymarket

"The wages of the men," states theHeport,
"were fixed at 12j. eaeh per wiA; that is, 9t.
were charged for board and lodging, and 3i. were
paid in money to each man on Saturday afternoon,
out of which he was expected to pay for his
clothing and washing. The men had provided
for them clean wholesome beds and bedding, a
common sitting-room, with every means of ablu-
tion and personal cleanliness, including a warm
bath once a week. Their food was abimdant and
of the best quality, viz., coffee and bread and
butter for breakiust, -at eight o'clock; round of
beef, bread, and vegetables, four times a Week for
dinner, at one o'clock ; nutritious soup and bread,
or bread and cheese, forming Aggftemoon repast
of the other three days. At six in the evening,
when they returned from their labours, tlHQr were
refreshed with tea or coffee, and bread and butter;
or for supper, at nine, each had a large basin of
soup, with bread. Thus, three-fourths of their
wages being laid out for them to advantage, the
men were well lodged and fod ; and they have
always declared themselves satisfied, comfortable,
and happy, under the anangements that were
made for tliem. Under the charge of their intel-
ligent and active superintendent, the street-order-
lies soon fell into a state of the most exact disci*
pline and order; and when old orderlies were
drafted off, either to eater the service of parish
boards who adopted the system, or were recom-
mended into service, or some other superior
position in life, and when new xesruits came to
supply their phwes, the hUter found no difficulty
in conforming to the .rules kid down for the
performance of their duties, as well as for
their general conduct ' Military time' regulated
their hours of labour, refreshment, and rest ; due
attention was required firom all ; and each -man
(though a scavenger) was expected to be cleanly
in his person, and respectful in his demeanour;
indeed, nothing could be more gratifying than the
conduct of these. men, both at home and abroad."

" In their domicile in -Ham Yard," continues
the Report, " the street*orderlies have invariably
been encouraged to follow pursuits which were
usefiil and improving, after their daily labours
were at an end ; for this, a small library of history,
voyages, travels, and instructive and entertaining
periodical works, was placed at their dispo«al ; and
it is truly gratifying to the Council to be able to
state, that the men evinced great satisfaction, and
even avidity, in avniling themselves of this source
of intellectual pleasure and improvement Writing
materials also were provided for them, for the
purpose of practice and .improvement, ns well as
for mutual instruction in this most necessary and
useful art; and it must be gratifying to the
members of (he Association to be informed, that,
in April last, 84 out of 40 men appended their

284

LONDON LABOXm AND THS LONDON POOR.

Bgnaturet, dittinctly and well written, to a docu-
ment which was submitted to them. Sach a £fict
will at least prore, that when poor persons are em-
ployed, well fed, and lodged, and cared for in the
way of instruction, they do not always mis-spend
their time, nor, from mere preferenti^ run riot in
pot houses and scenes of low debaucho^. It is to
be borne in mind, howeTer, that one-half of these
men were pemns of almost erery trade and occu-
pation, from the artisan to the shopman and clerk,
and therefore preriously educated ; the other half
ooniisted of labourers and persons forsaken and
indigent from their birth, and formerly dependent
on workhouse charity or chance employment for
their scanty subsistence ; consequently in a state
of utter ignorance as to reading and writing.

" Every night, after supper, prayers were read
by the superintendent ; and it has frequently been
a most edifying as well as gratifying sight to
members of your Council, as well as to other
persons of rank and station in sode^, who have
▼isited the Hosplea in Ham Tard at that interest-
ing hour, to obsenre the decorum with which these
poor men demeaned themselres ; and the heartfelt
solemnity with which they joined in the inroca-
tions and thanks to their Creator and Presenrer I

" Each Sunday morning, at 6 o'clock, a portion
of the church service was read, followed by an
extemporaneous discourse or exhortation bv the
secretary to the Hospice. They were marshalled
to church twice on the Sabbath, headed by the
superintendent and foremen ; and genendly divided
into two or three bodies, each teking a direction
to St James's, St. Anne's, or St Paul's, Covent
Qarden ; in all of which places of worship they
bad fitting accommodation provided by the kind-
ness of the clergy and churchwardens. On Tuesday
evenings they had the benefit of receiving pastoral
visits and instruction from several of tho worthy
clergymen of the surrounding parishes."

This is all very benevolent, but still very
wrong. There is but one way of benefiting the
poor, viz., by developing their powers of self-
reliance, and certainly not in treating them like
children. Philanthropists always seek to do too
much, and in this is to be found the main cause of
their repeated failures. The poor are expected to
become angels in an instant, and the consequence
is, they are merely made hypoeriiei. Moreover,
no men of any independence of character will
submit to be washed, and dressed, and fed like
schoolboys; hence none but the worst classes
come to be experimented upon. It would seem,
too, that this overweening disposition to play
the part of j>tdrngoguet (I use the word in its
literal sense) to the poor, proceeds rather from a
love of power than from a sincere regard for the
people. Let- the rich become the advisers and
assistants of the poor, giving them the benefit of
their superior education and means — ^but leaving
the people to act for themHlvet — and they will do a
great good, developing in them a higher standard
of comfort and moral excellence, and so, by im-
proving their tastes, inducing a necessary change
in their habits. But such as seek taerely to lord
it over those whom distress has pUiced in their

power, and strive to bring aboot the vUJUinagt of
Denevolenoe, making the people the philanthropic,
instead of the feudial, tiA of our nobles, should
be denounced as the arch-enemies of the country.
Such persons may mean well, but assuredly they
achieve the worst towards the poor. The curfew-
bell, whether instituted by benevolence or ty-
ranny, has the same degrading effect on the people
— destroying their principle of self-action, without
which we are all but as die beasts of the field.

Moreover, the laying out of the earnings of the
poor is sure, after a time, to sink into *'a job;"
and I quote the above passage to show that, despite
the kindest management, eleemosynary help is not
a fitting adjunct to the industrial toil of independ-
ent labourers.

Tke retidencet <ff ikt ttrHt^rderliei are now in
all quarters where unfurnished rooms are about
Is. dd, or 2s. a week. The addresses I have cited
show them residing in the outskirts and the heart
of tho metropolis. The following returns, how-
ever, will indicate the ages, the previous occupa-
tions, the education, church-going, the personal
habits, diet, rent, Ac., of the dass constituting the
street-orderlies, better than anything I can say
on the matter.

Before any man is employed as a street-orderly,
he is called upon to answer certain questions, and
the replies from 87 men to these questions supply
a fund of curious and important information — ^im-
portant to all but those who account the lot of the
r»r of no importance. In presenting these details,
beg to express my oUigations to Mr. Colin
Mackensie, the enlightened and kindly secretary
of the Association.

I shall first show what is the order of the
questioning, then what were the answers, and I
shall afterwards recapitulate, with a few comments,
the salient characteristics of the whole.

The questions are after this fiuhion ; the one I
adduce having been asked of a scavager to whom
a preference was given : —

The Parish of SL Mary, Paddington. — Ques-
tions asked of Parish Scavagers, applying for

employment as Street-Orderlies, with the an-

steers appended.

Name 1— W C .

Age 1 — 85 years.

How long a scavenger 1 — Three months.

What occupation preriously 1 — Gentleman's
footman.

Married or single T — Married.

Beading, writing, or other education ? — Yes.

Any children 1 — One.

Their ages t — Three years.

Wages f— Nine shillings per week.

Any parish relief 1 — No.

What and how much food the applicants Aaw

usually purchased in a veel:
Meat^-2s. 6d,
Bacon 1 — None.
Fish 1— None.
Bread ^-2s.
Potatoes 1 — id.
Butter 1—6<i.

LONDON LABOUR AND THB LONDON POOR.

26&

Tea and sugar 1 — 1*.

Cocoa 1 — None.

What rent they pay?— 2*.

Famished or unfurnished lodgings 1 — Unfur-
nished.

Any change of dress ^ — No.

Sunday clothing 1 — No.

How many shirts 1 — Two shirts.r

Boots and shoes )— One pair.

How much do they lay out for dothet in a
year ] — I have nothing but what I stand upright in.

Do they go to church or chapel >— Sometimes.

If not, why not 1 —It is firom want of clothes.

Do they ever bathe 1 — No.

Does the wife go out to, or take in work 1 —
Yes.

What are her earnings 1 — Uncertain.

Do they have anything from charitable institu-
tions or £unilies1 — No.

When ill ; where do they resort to 1 — Hospitals,
dispensaries, and the parish doctor.

Do their children go to any school; and what 1—
Paddington.

Do they ever save any money ; how much, and
where 1 —

How mucli do they spend per week in drink 1

Do not passers by, as charitable ladies, &c.,
ffiTe them money; and how much per week] —

Such are the questions asked, and I now give
the answers of 67 individuals.

Their ages leere : —
10 were from 20 to 80 15 from 50 to 60
80 „ 40 4 „ 60 „ 70.
40 „ 50 1 „ 70

13
24

The greatest number of any age was 7 persons
of 45 years respectirely.

Tkeir jprevious oecupationi had hem: —

22 labourers. 1 sweep.

8 at the business "all 1 hay binder.

their lives." 1 gaslighter.

8 dustmen. 1 dairyman.

8 ostlers. 1 ploughman.

2 stablemen. 1 gardener.

2 carmen. 1 errand boy.

2 porters. 1 fur dresser.

2 gentlemen's servants. 1 fur dyer.

2 greengrocers. 1 skinner.

1 following dust-cart. 1 leather dresser.

1 excavator. 1 letter-press printer.

1 gravel digging. 1 paper stainer.

1 stone br«dung in 1 glau blower.

yards. 1 iurier.

1 at work in the brick- 1 plasterer.

fields. 1 clerk.

1 at work in the lime- 1 vendor of goods,

works. 1 licensed victualler.
1 coal porter.

Therefore, of 67 scavagers
12 had been artisans.
55 „ unskilled workmen.

Hence about five-sixths belong to the unskilled
class of operatives.

Time of having le$n at teavagering,

8 "all their lives "at 4 from 5 to 10 years,
the business. 84 ,. 1 „ 5 „

1 about 27 years. 18 twelve months and

6 from 15 to 20 years. less.

6 „ 10 „ 16 „

Hence it would appear, that few hare been at
the business a long time. The greater number
have not been acting as scavagers more than five
years.

Stale qf education, — Could they read and tpritet
45 answered yes. 5 could read only.

4 replied that they 12 could do neither,
could read and write. . 1 was deaf aqd dumb.

Hence it would appear, that rather more than
two-thirds of the scavagers have received some
little education.

Did theg go to church or chapel f
22 answered yes. 1 not often.

9 went to church. 17 never went at all.
4 „ chapeL 1 was ashamed to go.

4 „ the Catholic 1 went out of town to
chapel. enjoy himself.

1 „ both church 2 made no return (1
and chapel. being deaf and

5 went sometimes. dumb).

Thus it would seem, that not quite two-
thirds regularly attend some place of worship;
that about one-eleventh go occasionally ; and that
about one-fourth never go at all.

Why did they not go to church t
12 had no dothes.

55 returned no answer (1 bebg deaf and dumb).

Hence of those who never go (19 out of 67),
very nearly two-thirds (say 12 in 19) have no
clothes to appear in.

Did they haihe t
59 answered no. Thames.

8 replied yes. 2 returned "sometimes."

2 said they did in the 1 was deaf and dumb.
Hence it appeared, that about seven-eighths

never bathe, although following the filthiest occu*
pation.

Were they married or single t

56 were married. 6 were single.
5 „ widowers.

Thus it would seem, that about ten-elevenths
are or have been married men.

ffow many children hcul they t

1 bad 15. 6 bad 1 each.

1 „ 6. 16 ,, none (6 of these

2 „ 5 each. being single men).
11 „ 4 „ 2 returned their fiunily
19 „ 8 „ as grown up without

9 „ 2 „ stating the number.

Consequently 51 out of 61, or five-sixths, are
married, and have fiunilies numbering altogether
165 children ; the majority had only 8 children,
and this was about the average family.

SM

LONDOS LABOUR AND THM LONJUON FOOB,

What wen lU mga ^ timrehUdrtmt

11 wen grown npu
2 between 30 and 40.
0 „ 20aDd30.

49 „ 10 and 20.

80 „ 1 and 10.

8 weie 1

undei;
5

year and

at

1 retorned as dead.

One-half of the learagen* children, therefoce, an
between 1 and 10 jean of age; the Bajoritj
would appear to be 8 jean old.

Some wen nid to be grown np, but no
WBSgiren.

Did ikeuF d^Odrm go io tehodt

18
IStothoNatMBMlSdioel

(^totfaoJUmdSckML

2 to Catho^

2toFariiL

8 to local ichooTa.

1 nplied that he went
■ometimei.

2

Inpliod that bit efafl.

dna wwo " Bol with

him."
23 (of whom 18 had no

childnn, and 1 waa

deaf and dumb) made

nonplj.

From this it would seem, that a huge aaajoritj
— il out of 51, or fi>ar>fifths— of the parents who
have children send them to KhooL

Did ikeir wtvw work $
15 ntumed no. 10 worked "

8 sai^ their wives wen
''nnable."

1 had lost the UBS of
her limbs.

2 did, bat "not often."
4 did "when thej

could."

Hence two-fifths of the wives (22 out of 56) do
no work, 16 do so oeeasionallj, and 13, or one-
fourth, are in the habit of working.

What %Dere wivei eartiingt J
10 returned them as 1 at 2«. to 4f. per week,
"uncertain." latSf. or4«. „

1 " didn't know." 1 at 3</. or 4t/. per daj.

1 estimated them at *

12 answered yes.

Isoldcnases.
15 made no retnm (11
having no wives and
1 bemg deaf and
dumb).

43 gave no returns (hav-
ing either no wives,
or their wives not
working).
1 was deaf and dumb.

Is. 6d. per week.

1 at Is, to 2i. „

2 at 2*.

3 at 2s. or Zs. „

2 at about 3f. „
So that, out of 29 wives who wen said to

work, 16 occasionally and 13 regularly, there wen
returns for 23. Nearly half of their earnings were
given as uncertain from their seldom doing work,
while the remainder were stated to gain from Is.
to is. per week ; about 2s. 6d. perhaps would be
a &ir average.

What waga vet-e Uuy thenuelvse in the halit qf
receiving t

3 had 16i. 6d. per week. 15 had 9s. per week.
2 „ 16#. „ 4 „ 8*.

28 „ 15.. „ 5 „ 7*.

B „ li*.6d. „ 4 „ Is. lid. a day

1 „ 14«. ff and 2 loaves.

2 . 12#.

Hence it is evident, that one-half receive 15<.
or more a week, and about a fourth 9t.

It was not the parishes, however, but the eon-
tractors with the parishes, who paid the higher
rates of wages : Mc Dodd, for St. Lake's ; Mr.

Westley, for St Botolph's, Bishopsgate; Mr.
Parsons, for Whitechapel ; Mc Newman, for
Bethnal-green, &c

These wi^gss the aomigBn laid ont in the
following manner : —

For rmi, per wteL

lpaid4<.

1 „ UM.

8 „ 8#.
U „ %u6d.
» . 2s.

4 » U8<L
Heaoaitwoald
number paid 2s. rent

IpaidUSdL

2 » U

1 Ihrad not fret.

1 paid for boaid and

iffdging
1 lived with Bather.
V that near apon half the
The usaal rant paid seems

to be balwaea 2a and Ss., fivfrsiztha of the entire
number paying one or other of those amounta
Only three Mvad in fnmishad lodgings^ and the
rants of tbasa wcre^ vespeclifoly, two at 2s. 6<f .
and the other at 2s.

For Iftadt f€r wmk.

4 tipended Is. 6<i.

1 » ls.9<i.

4 two loaves a day
from parish.

8 gave a certain sum
per week to their
wives or mothen to
laj oat for them, and
1 boarded and lodged.

1 was deaf and dumb.

that the general sum
expended weeklj on bread varies between 2s. and
is. The average saving from free-trade, therefore,
would be between id. and 8ci, or say 6(i., per week.
For meat, per week.

expended 5s. 8dL.
„ 4s. 7rf.
„ 4s. 3(2.
» 8s.8d.

n 8fc

„ 2s. 6<f.
n 2i.8d.
„ 2s.

Thus it would

4

expended 4i.

1 expended Sd.

5

3*. U.

1 once a week.

11

„ 3..

4 had none.

12

2s. 6d.

5 no returns (3 of

1

2s. i<L

this number gave a

5

„ 2s.

weekly allowance to

4

Is. 6d.

wives or mothers, 1

1

Is. 2d.

was deaf and dumb,

9

„ Is.

and 1 paid for board

2

„ lOrf.

and lodging).

2

,, 6cf.

By the above we see, that the sum usually ex-
pended on meat is between 2s. 6d. and 8;. per
week, about one-third of the entire number ex-
pending that sum. All those who expended Is.
and less per week had 9s. and less for their week's
labour. The avenge saving from the cheapening
of provisions would here appear to be between
5d. and 6d. per week at the outside.

For tea and sugar, per veek.
2 paid 2s. 6d. 5 paid Is. Zd.

- " 5 „ Is. 2d.

13 „ Is.
2 „ Sd.

5 no returns : 1 deaf

and dumb, 1 board

and lodging, and 3

making allowances.

The sum usually expended on tea and sugar

seems to be between Is. 6d. and 2s. per week.

1

tt

2s. id.

1

tt

2s. 8<{.

19

ft

2s.

2

tt

Is. 9rf.

4

ft

Is. M.

12

tt

Is. 6ii.

5

ft

Is. id.

LOimOir LABOUR AND THE LONI>ON PiKOL

m

For JUh, per week,
9 expended It, 4 allowed mo uracil ^

week to wires, or
mother, or IcndUidy.
1 deaf and dumb.

6 „ 8d,
28 „ M,

8 „ id.
28 M nothing.

Hence one-third spent €d, wttAStj in ilsh, and
one-third nothing.

For haeon, per wteL,

1 expended 1«. 1 expended id,

2 „ lOd. 49 „ nothing.

1 „ 9<L 4 aUovaaaaa to wiTss,

5 „ 8<2. fta

9 „ 6(f. I deaf and dumh.
The majority (two-thirds), therefore, do not hare

bacon. Of those that do eat bacon, the usnal sum
spent weekly ]MM.faZd.

For hfitter, per weA.
1 expended 1m, Sd. 1 expendod Zd^

24 „ li» 2 „ nothing.

11 „ lOcf. i made allowances.

12 „ 8c2. 1 deaf and dumb.
11 „ 6rf.

Thus one-third expended Is., and about one-
Rxth spent lOd. ; another Mvadi, 8<{. ; and another
iixih, Qd, a week, for batter.

For potatoes, per veek,

1 spent 1^. 6 spent id.

2 „ lOd, 28 spent nothing.

9 „ Sd, i made allowaneeib

1 „ 7d, 1 deaf and dumb.
18 „ 6rf.

Abont one-fonrth spent fid. ; the greater propor-
tion, however (nearly one-half), expended nothing
npon potatoes weekly.

-For clothei, yearly.

2 expended 2L 1 had 2 pairs of boots
2 u 1^ 10s. a year, but no clothes.
2 „ lL5s, 2 expended *< not
a „ II, much."

„ ISs. 2 got them as they could.

„ 17i. 1 expended a few shil-

„ 15s. lings.

J, 12fc 1 said it "all depends."

„ 10s, 2 returned " nothing."

84 couldn't say. 1 was deaf and dumb.

0 made no return.
Hcrnw 4S out of 67, or nearly two-thirds, spent
little or nothing upon their dothei.

Had they a change of dreu t
28 hadadiangeof dress. 1 was deaf and dumb.
38 had not.

Above one-half, therefore, had no ether clodies
but theaa they worked in.

Hi»d tkey «iy 89md»y dOhinff t
20hadione. 21 madenoretan.

A5 had none. 1 deaf and dnmb.

Here than twe^thivds, then, had no Sanday
oothes.

Hoio many ikirtt had they f
10 had 3 shirts. 2 had 1 shirt

54 ,^ 2 „ 1 was deaf and dumb.

The greater number, therefore, had two shirts.

JSTow «Miiiy siletf had theyt
27 had 2 pairs. 1 was deal mai

91^ „ 1 „
Thai the majority had only eae pair of

How much did they ipend in drink f
1 expended 2t, a week. ~ . . . ^

1 „ Is. or 2s. j^

2 « 1«.6A «

4 a. Is. jj

1 „ 6<f.
1 „ Zd.orSd. „
7 said they *' couldn't
mj.'

I said he ''^woiddn't
that air de-

say."
Isaid "
pmds.*
2sudthey"hadnoDa

to ^end.*"
2 ei^nded nothmg.
44 gave no return (1
deaf and dmnb).
Hence answers were jpren by one-third, of
whom the greatest number ''couldn't say." (1) Of
the ten who acknowledged spending anything
npon drink, the greater number, or 4, said they
spent Is. a week only. But 1

Did they tave aisy wkomey f
86 answered no.
81 gare no reply (1 being deaf and dumb).

What did they in ease qf iUnets coming npon
themselves or famUiee t
28 went to the dispen- 1 went to the woifk-
sary house.

8 went to the hospital. 2 said " nothing.'

6 „ parish

doctor.
8 wives went to the

lying-in hospital.
The

1 **never troubled any.*

8 made no reply (1

being deaf and dumb).

The greater number, then, go, when ill, to the
dispensary.

Were they in rteeipt ^f alms I
56 answered no. 6 made no retnms (1

2 „ sometimes. being deaf aad
8 „ yea. dumb).

Did the passers^y give them anything t
49 answered no. 1 answered Tery sel-

2 „ sometimes dom.

beer. 12 no returns (1 being

1 answered never. deaf and dumb).

2 „ seldom.

Did they receive any reluf from (heir parishes T
56 replied no. 1 hod 151be. of bread.

4 had 2 loaves and U. 2 answered ''not at
a day as wages. present.**

1 had 4 loaves aweek. 2 made no retnmi.

1 „ a4.lbs.loaf:
Thus the greater proportbn (five-sixths), it will
be seen, had no relief; two of those who had re-
lief received 9s. wages a week, and two others
only 7s., while four received port of their wages
from the parish in bread.

These analyses are not menly the ehaneterii-
tics of the applicant or existwit atreet^orderlsM;^
they are really the annals of the poor in all thai
relates to their domestic management in rsgaid to
meat and clothes, the care of their children, their
church-going, education, previous callings, and
parish relief. The in<iuiry is not discoungtng as
to the character of the poor, and I must adl
attention to the circumstance of how rarely it is

388

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON FOOJSL

that fo large a colloction of fiusti ia placed at
the command of a public writer. In many of
the public officei the simplest information is ai
jealously withheld as if statistical knowledge
jmn the first and last steps to high treason.
I trust lliat Mr. Cochrane's example in the skilful
•rxangement of the returns connected with the
Association over which he presides, and his
courteous readiness to supply the information,
gained at no small care and cost, will be more
fireely followed, as such a course unquestionably
tends to the public benefit

It will be seen from these statements, how hard
the struggle often is to obtain work in unskilled
labour, and, when obtained, how bare the living.
Bvery fiuthing earned by such workpeople is
necessarily expended in the support of a fiunily ;
and in the foregoing details we hare another proof
as to the diminution of the purchasing fund of
the country, being in direct proportion to the
diminution of the wages. If 100 men receire but
7#. a week each for their work, their yearly outlay,
to " keep the bare life in them," is 1820^. If they
are paid I6j. a week, their outlay is 4160/. ; an ex-
penditure of 2ZiOL more in the productions of
otir manufactures, in all textile, metal, or wooden
fiibrics ; in bread, meat, fruit, or vegetables ; and
in the now necessaries, the grand staple of our
foreign and colonial trade — tea, coffee, cocoa,
sugar, rice, and tobacco. Increase your vagei,
tMer^ore, and you increase your vMrkets, For
manu&ctnrers to underpay their workmen is to
cripple the demand for manu&ctures. To talk
of the orer-production of our cotton, linen, and
woollen goods is idle, when thousands of men
engaged in such productioas are in rags. It is
not that there are too many makers, but too few
who, owing to the decreaac of wages, are able
to be buyers. Let it be remembered that, out of
67 labouring men, three-fourths could not afford to
buy proper clothing, expending thereupon "little"
or "nothing," and, I may add, became earning
little or nothing, and so having scarcely anything
to expend.

I now come to ike cost of cleansing the streets
upon the street-orderly system , as compared with that
of the ordinary modes of payment to contractors,
&c It will have been observed, frorw whnt has
been previously stated, that the Council of the
Association contend that fiir higher amounts may
be realized for street manure when collected clean,
according to the street-orderly plan. If, by a better
mode of collecting the street dirt, it bo kept un-
mixed, its increase in value and in price may be
most positively affirmed.

Before presenting estimates and calculations of
cost, I may remind the reader that, under the
street-orderly system, no watering carts are re-
quired, and none are used where the system is
carried out in its integrity. To be able to dispense
with the watering of the streets is not merely to
get rid of a great nuisance, but to ctfect a con-
siderable saving in the rates.

I now give two esti'mates, both relating to the
) district :r-

Ck)XPA]UTiYB Bxpmmi of CLiiHnro avd
Watirixo thb Struts, &a, of St. Jaxis's
Parish; under the system now in operation
by the Paving Board, and under the sanitary
system of employing street-orderlies, as recom-
mended by 779 ratepayers. It is assumed,
from reasonable data, that the superficial con-
tenU of all the streets, lanes, courts, and alleys
in the parish, do not amount to more than
80,000 square yards.

** Pretmt Annuai Expense qf Chtttuimg SL Jamsits
ParUh:—
Paid to contractor fur carrying away ilopt

Including expense of broomi £800 0 0

Paid to 23 men, avenge wages, I0«. per
weeli, 52 weeks. 696 0 0

£1398 0 0
'* ^iMMof Erpmue qf Streel-Orderfy £^«m.-^
30 men (including those with
hand-barrows), at 1U». per week,

52week« £780 0 0

Expense of brooms 30 0 0

Cartage of slop 100 0 0

£910 0 0

£488 0 0
Saving by diminished expense of street-
watering throughout the parish 430 0 0

Annual prospective saving £938 0 0

** Obs. — The sum of 800/. per annum was paid
to the contractor on account of expenses incurred
for the removal of slop. During the three yean
previous to 1849, the contractor paid money to
the parish for permission to remove the house-
ashes, the value of which was then 2s. per load ;
it is now 2f, 6d, In St. Giles's and St Qeoige'i
parishes, whose surfiice is more than twice the
extent of St. James's, the expense of slop-cartage^
in 1850, was 304/. 14s. Od,, whilst the sum re-
ceived for cattle-manure collected by street-or-
derlies, was 73/. lis. Od, ; and the slop-expenses
for the four months ending November 29, were
59/. ISs. 6d., whilst the manure sold for 21/. 6s. Od,
Thus has the slop-expense in these extensive
united parishes been reduced to less than 120/.
per annum. Since the preceding estimate was
submitted to the Commissioners of Paving, the
street-orderly system has been introduced into
St. James's parish ; and it is confidently expected
that tho 'Annual Prospective saving' of 938/.,
will be fully realised."

A simiUr estimate has just been sent into the
authorities of the great parish of St. Marylebone,
but its results do not difier from the one I have
just cited.

I next present an estimate contrasting the ex-
pense of the street-orderly method with the cost
of employing sweeping-machines : —

*' Coxparatiyb Expkhss Of CLiAHsnra aitd
Watebiho the Stubxts, &a, oi St. Martin's
Parish, under the system now in operation by
the Paving Board, and under the sanatory
system of employing street-orderiies, as recom-
mended by 703 ratepayers. It is assumed,
from reasonable data, that the superficial con-
tents of all the streets, lanes, courts, and alleys
in the parish, amount to about 70,000 squiire
yards.

LONDON LABOUR AND THB LONDON POOR.

• bifMaehinenfin
SL Martin's ParUh.

£ *. d
Annual payment

to ftrect-ma-

cfaine proprie-
tor 060 0 0

Watering rate

(1847r. 644 16 81

Salaries to

elerks 901 0 0

Support of 28

able • bodied

men in work-

houae.thrown

out of work,

at Am. dd. per

man 3S7 19 0

£S343 8 81

d.

'< EspmiUurt fty flbe JBni-
Bkifmemi ^ atf^tt-Ofder-

liaintenanea of
88 itraet-or-

derlka to
keep dean
70,000 yards
(presumed
contents), at
iSOO yards

0 0

ISti per week 768 0 0

Two faupeetots
of oraarlieSf
at 18$, per
wedL \7. 78

One superin-
tendent of
ditto, at II.
per week.... 52

Wear and tear
of brooms . . 36

Interest on out-
lay for bar-
rows, brooms,
andshorels.. 96 19 0

Watering rate
(notrequlred)

Value of ma-
nure pays for
cartage

0 0
8 0

961 7 0
Annual saring
by street-or-
derlies 1382 1 8}

2343 8 81

I now give an eitimate coneeming a tmaller
diftrict, OM qf ike divisions qf St, Paneras
pmrish. It was embodied in a Report read at a
meeting in Camden-town, on the detirableneM of
introdnctng the street-orderly tyi tem : —

The S^M»rt let forth that the Committee had
^nade a minnte inrettigation into the pretent
lyitemi of atieet-deanBing, at adopted under the
mperintendence of Mr. Bird, the parish surreyor,
and under that of the National Philanthropic
AiBociation.

«« From the 90th of March,
1848, to the 26th of
March. 1849. the Dine-
Ion i^fthe Poor erpendtd
in fmting mnd tieanting,
4€„ tfU thns €U»d m guar-
ttr mtfev under their
thorite, 35451. 19«. Jd. ; of
this the fiollowfaig items
were for rUwrnsiny, tIx.—

Labour 248 13 0

Tools 10 12 0

Slop carting.... 496 0 0
Proportion of
foreman's sa-
lary 39 0 0

795 5 0

'< The etreel-erdertif e^em
qfeteanei$igtbe said roads
In the most efficient
manner would give the
following expenditure
per annum:—

^ ^ •• "•

Thirty-ftwrmen

to cleanse S^

miles, at the

rate of 2000 iu-

perfldal yards

each man, 12*.

per week each 1060 16 0
Two inspectors

of orderlies, at

15#. per week

each 78 00

Superintendent 104 0 0
Cost of brooms,

shoTds, 4rc . . 83 0 0
No allowance for

slop - carting,

the National

Philanthropic

Association

holding that

the

properly cqU
lected, WW
more than pav
for Its remoTU

Deduct

1385 16 0

of
the old mode 796 5 0

" The apparent extra eost, therefore, would be
5B0L lis. The vestry, howerer, would see that
the charge for supporting 84 able-bodied men in
the workhouse is at least fis. per week each, or
442^ per annum. This, therefore, mus^ Im A>
ducted firom the 580^. 11#., leaving the ertra oot^
SSL lit, per annum. This sum, the committee
were assured, will be not only repaid by tiie
reduced outlay for repairs, which the new system
will e£fect; but a very great saying will be the
result of the thorough cleansed state in which the
roads will be constantly maintained. Under the
late system, to find the roads in a cleansed state
was the exception, not the rule ; and what all the
advantages likely to result from the new system
were taken into consideration, the committee did
not hesitate to recommend it for adoption in its
most efficient form."

Concerning the expense of cleansing ike City by
the street-orderly system^ Mr. Cochrane says : —

"The number required
for the whole surface (hi-
eluding the footways,
courts, 4cc.)would be about
250 men and boys.

rthe Streets, See,,
*ifthedtp^Lemdem,en
the old Mjfstem i/ 8c—
Kknt(,from Jmte, 1846, fo
Jmim, 1846.

Annual

To seavaging eon-
tractors

Value of ashes and
dust of the city
ofLondon,glven
gratis to the
above eontrao-
tors in the year
ending 1846, and
now purchased
by them for the
year ending 1847

Estimated contri-
butions levied
watering

£8040

4000

2485

580 11 0

' Upon the present sys-
tem this number would oe

£0TtU: ■■ .' .11 .! :....-.: —
*■ y.ii iliV,-nJU.-l^U to

Ttn-gLn work at (i a.ni,. und

cjyje-d rejtef and aidA.— 30
hoyt bov* from J^ *t nctrm
to J a Third divbroQ.—dO
men from ti p.m. to (J m-m.
Total, 250.

*• The rntn and boyi pro
now working at txom 6e. to
12t. per week.
These 250 men and

boys would cost for

wai^ during the

year about £5lU0

Twelve foremen, at

40(. per annum.... 480
Two superintendents

atM(.each 100

Brooms, dec 385

Barrows 100

Two clerks, at lOOT.

each 200

Manager 100

£9W5

" No items are given for
slopping or cartage, as, if
the streets are property
attended to, there ought to
be no slop, whilst the value
of the m'anuremay be more
than equivalent for the ex-
pense of iu removal.

«<Some slop^arU will,
however, he occasionally
required for Smithfleld-
market and similar k>cali-
ties; making, therefore,
ample allowance for con-
tingencies, it is confidently
considered that the expense
for cleansing the wh<^ of
the city of London by
street-orderlies would not
exceed 80001. per annum."

Two estimates, then, show an expectation of a
yearly saving of no less than 2320^ to the rate-
payers of two parishes alone ;'9d8^. to St. James's,
and 1382^ to St Martin's. And this, too, if all
that be augured of this system be reiJised, with a
freedom from street dust and dirt unlcnown under
other method! of scaTagery. I think it right.

Salaries to survey-
ors, inspectors,
beadles, clerks,
dec, of Sewers'
Ofllce, according
to printed ac-
count, March 3,
1846

Expense for clean-
ing out sewers
and Kully-holes
(not known)

Annual expense
under the imper-
fect system of
street-cleansing . £18,088
"Number of men cm-
ployed. 58.

<• State of the Streets :—
Inhabltanu always oom-
phdning of their being
muddy In winter and dus^
in summer."

fro

iAUnXOfLABOVMASD

dw wmaAm of i
tirmj, wlMn ■»

■a sl

^ dinr Bcs 1««. iraekhr. If tUi
Wv Ure be j«uMrf« u tiw war «£ as czpm-
BOity it en never be jttinrtir at a inaii— iwa
•f tbe rewmrd ef kbear.

If tbe •treet^rdcri3r ertleB ■ t» be tbe ncaat
9ip€rmammtly tedndag the wagM ef tbe icgnkr
KiTagen frem 16j. to 12<. a week, tbea «c bad
betier remain aflieted witb tbe pbyMcal dirt «£
evr ■ttccte, tbao tbe aMial filtb wbicb m mn to
proceed Ifoai tbe povert j of oar people — bat if if
u to be a means of elevating tbe pai^er to tbe
dignity of tbe independeat faiboar^ lather tban
diagging tbe independest kboaier down to tbe
dehai— tnt of tbe paaper, tbea let all wbe widi
well to tbeir fdloirt encoonge it at beartilj and
ftreaooiulj at they can — otWwiio tbe aooncr it
ie deatnnwd at an insidious mode of defraodiag
tbe poor of one-fourth of their canings the
better; and it is merely in tbe belief that Hr.
Cochrane and tbe Council of the Aenciation mean
to keq> ikith with tbe public and increase tbe
men's wages to those of the regular trade, that
tbe street-orderly system is adrocated bete. If
our philanthropists are to redaoe wages 26 per
cent., then, indeed, the poor man may cry, " mve
me from, my /n'^uii."

As to the positiTe and definite workiag of tbe
street-orderly system as an economiccd system,
no information can be given beyond the estimates
I have cited, ns it has never been duly tested on a
sufficiently large scale. Its working has been, of
necesBJty, desuitory. It has, howerer, been intro-
duced into Kt. (ieorge's, Bloomsbury ; St. Jameses,
^Vcfit^liIlitnr ; and is nboat to be established in
St. Alartin's-in-the-Fields ; and in the courfe of a
year or two it seems that it will be sufficiently
tesU'd. That its working has hitherto been de-
sultory is n necessity in London, where " vested
interests " look grimly on any change or even any
inquiry. TImt it deserves n full and liberal testin<^
lecms undeniable, from the concurrent assent of
nil parishiuners who have turned their attention
to it.

It remains to show the expenses of the Philan-
thropic Ai»Bociation, for I am unable to present an
account uf strecl-ordurlyism separately. Tho
two followiuff tables fully iivdicate to what an extent
tho asBocintion is indebted to the pri\'ate purse of
Mr. Cochrane, who by this time has advanced
between GOUO/. and 7000^.

"Balance Sheet.

llfceiptx and KrjHndilure of the National Phi-
fan (hr<>j)fc Ansociation, for the Promotion qf
♦S'o<j'(t/ and Sai\atory Iinjyrm'ements and the
Kmjiloymmt of thf. Poor, from2Wi Sepiemler,
I84tf, to 2\}th September, 1849.

Db.

£ «u d.

tkeSlhScft-
ibcr,^ 13B« 7 i .taiy .— •-• «• 0

ar:

aosi» 9

7»1C 4

iT * *.

17 9

0

S«10 0

&e.. Sn 19 4
Do-tocoUeecnn 31f IS 1

I3B S 6

. aS6 17 0
Biro ot gooBi<

fiir public

mcetinipi GO 10 0

AdTcnttcm«nts

and nevsra-

pcn 244 5 3

Bill porting 8 li 6

SdMei to per-

■DOS ia ehu){e

offineelarato-

lics in Hsm-

Tard, Great
WindmUUt.,

:s.. 10 18 2
bsr.

others for
removal of

Food, lodging,
aad wages to

St.Jj

Brooms*
rows. ana
shovels, for
the use of
street - order-
lies 86 8 0

Charges of con-

a fl ff

lies.damiciIod
In Ham-yard,
Great wind-
niill-stroet»i>t.
James's 980 II

Clothing for the
street - order-
lies

Baths prmided
for do.

Sundry ex-
penses for of-
ncrs, mehid-
rag postage-
stamiM, dec. .

Law exiienscs. .

Builders ch»i^^
for free lava-
tories in Ham-
yard 95 13 10

Amoant ad-
vanced to the
late secretary
for improving
the dwellings
of the i>oor . .

Farther ad-
vances made
by pffsident
on various
occasions for
the general
purpo&cs of
the Associa-
tion

13 3 2
5 15 W

92 7 11
H 10 10

20 0 0

5ft} 2 4
7133 I'i 4

Audited by us, Oct. 19th, 1049, Charles Shophtrd
Lcnton, 33, Leicester-square; and Jos^cph Child, 43,
LelccsterHKiuare."

XSNDON LABOUJEt, AND TBE IX>NDON FOOXL

271

StwsitObpeeiies.— Crrr SxjbtxtobIb I
Bepobt.
I HAVE been fisTooied ivith a Report "upon street-
cleaniing and in v^erenoe to tiie StreetrOrderlj
Byttem/' by the Author^ Mr. W. Haywood, the
Surveyor to the CUy Commiuion of Sewen,
who has invited my attention to the matter, in
consequence of the statements which have ap-
peared on the subject in ^London Labour and the
London Poor."

Mr. Haywood, whose tone of argument is
courteous and moderate, and who does not scruple
to do justice to what he accounts the good points
of the street-orderly system, although he con-
demns it as a whole, gives an account of the
earlier scavaging of the city, not differing in any
material jrespect from that which I have already
pn'nted. He represents the pujblic ways of the
City, which I have stated to be about 50 miles, as
" about 51 miles linoal, about 770,157 superficial
yards in area." This area, it appears, compre-
hends 1000 different places.

In 1S45 the .area of the carriage-way of the
City was estimated at 418,000 square yards, and
the footway at 316,000, making a total of
734,000; but since that period new streets have
been made and others extensively widened. The
precincts of Bridewell, St Bartholomew, St
Jaaai*«, Buke's-place, Aldgate, and others, have
been added to the jurisdiction of the Sewers Com-
mission by Act of Parliament, so that the Surveyor
now estimates the area of the carriage-way of the
City of London at 441,250 square yards, and the
footway at 828,907, making a total of 770,157
square yards.

" I am fully impressed," observes Mr. Haywood,
** with the great importance to a densely-popu-
lated city of an efficient cleansing of the public
ways. Probably after a perfect system of sewage
and drainage (which implies an adequate water
supply), and a well-paved surface (which I have
always considered to be little inferior in its im-
portance to the former, and which is indispen-
sable to obtaining clean sweeping), good surface
cleansing ranks next in its beneficial sanitary
influence; and most certainly the comfort gained
by all through having public thoroughfiires in a
high degree of cleanliness is exceedingly great.**

Mr. Haywood expresses his opinion that streets
"ordure soddened** — smelling like "stable yards,"
— dangerous to the health of the inhabitants-
impassable from mud in winter and from dust in
summer — and inflicting constant pecuniary loss,
"can only exist in an appreciable degree in
thoroughfares swept much less frequently " than
the streets within the jurisdiction of the City
Commissioners of Sewers. In this opinion, how-
ever, Mr. Haywood comes into direct collision
with the statements put forth by the Board of
Health, who have insisted upon the insanitary
state of the metropolitan streets, more strongly,
perhaps, in ^eir several Beports, than has Mr.
Cochrane.

But Mr. Haywood believes that not only ve
the assertions of the Board of Health as to the

uawholesome state of the metropolitan iboropgli-
ikres unfounded as r^ards the city of XiQDdoiv
but he asserts that 'from the daily street-sweeping,
"the surfitce there is maintained in as high an
average condition of cleanliness, jw the meam
hitherto adopted will enable to be attained."

"Nor doee this apply,** says Mr. Haywood, "to
the main thoroughfares only. In the poorer courti
and alleys within the city, where a high degree
of cleanliness is, at least, as needful, in a sanitary
point of view, as in the larger and wider thorough-
fiires, the £Eu^lities for efficient sweeping are as
grea^ if not greater, than in other portions oH
your jurisdiction. For many years past the whole
of the courts and alleys which carts do not enter,
have been paved with flagstone, laid at a good
inclination, and presenting an uniform smoodi
non-oJt>»orbeni suiiace : in many of these courts
where the habits of the people are cleanly, the
scavenger*s broom is almost unneeded for weeks
together; in others, where ihe habit prevails of
throwing the refuse of the bouses upon the pave-
ments, the daily sweeping is highly essential ; but
in all these courts the surface presents a condition
which renders good dean sweeping a compara*
tively easy operation, that which is swept away
being mostly dry, or nearly so."

After alluding to ihe streetK)rderly principle of
scavaging, "to clean and keep clean,** Mr. Haywood
observes, "between the 'street-orderly system*
and the periodical or intermittent sweeping there
is this difference, that upon the former system
there should be (if it fulfils what it professes) no
deposit of any description allowed to remain
much longer than a few minutes upon the surface,
and that there shonld be neither mud in the wet
weather, nor dust in the dry weather, upon the
public ways; whilst, upon the hitter system, the
deposit necessarily accumulates between the periods
of sweeping, commencing as soon as one sweeping
has terminated, gradually increasing, and being at
its point of extreme accumulation at the period
when the next sweeping takes place: the former,
then, is, or shonld be, a system of prevention;
the latter, conliBasedly, but a system of palliation
or cure, •

" The more fireqnent the periodical sweepmg;
therefore, the nearer it approximates in its results
to the 'street-orderly system, inasmuch as the
accumulations, being frequently removed, must be
smaller, and the evils of mud, dust, effluvia, &c.^
less in proportion.

"Now to fulfil its pronnse: upon the 'street-
orderly system,' there should be men both day
and night within the streets, who should con*
stantly remove the manure and reftise, and, failing
this, if there be only cessation for six hours
out of the twenty-four of the ' continuous cleans-
ing,* it becomes at once a periodical cleansing but
a degree in advance of the daily sweeping, which
has been now for years in operation within the
city of London.**

This appears to me to be an extreme conclusion:
— because the labours of the street- orderly system
cease when the great traffic ceases, and when, of
course, there is comparatively little or no dirt

No. XLIL

272

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

depoaited in the thorongh&ret, therefore, aayi
Mr. Haywood, " the City fjstem of cletntiiig once
per day if only a degree behind that lyttem of
which the principle it incessant cleansing at snch
time af the dirtying is incessant" The two prin-
ciples are sorely as different as light and darknees :
— ^tn the one the cleansing is intermittent and the
dirt constant; in the other the dirt is intermittent
and the deuiliness constant — constant, at least,
so long as the causes of imparity are so.

Mr. Haywood, howerer, states that the Com-
missioners were so pleased with the appearance of
the streets, when cleansed on the street-orderly
system, which "was certainly much to he ad-
mired,** that they introduced a somewhat similar
system, calling their scaTngers " daymen," as they
had the care of keeping the streets clean, e^fier a
daily morning sweeping by the contractor's men'.
They commenced their work at 9 A.M. and ceased
at 6 P.M. in the summer months, and at half-past
4 P.1C. in the winter. In the sommer months
86 daymen were employed on the average; in
the wioter months, 46. The highest nnmoer of
seaming daymen employed on any one day was
68; ue lowest was 84. The area cleansed was
about 47,000 yards (superficial measure), and with
the following results, and the following cost, from
June 24, 1846, to the same date, 1847 :—

Ywdt

SuperficUl.

The ayenige area cleansed during the
summer months, per man per diem,
was 1298

Ditto during winter, per man per
diem, was 1016

The arerage of both summer and
winter months was, per man per
diem 1139

The cost of the experiment was for
daymen (including brooms, bar-
rows, shovels, cartage, &c. * . £1450 18

One Foreman at ... . 78 0

And the total yst of the experiment . £1628 18

"The daily sweeping," Mr. Haywood says,
" which for the previous two years had been esta-
blished throughout the City, gave at that time
very great satvffaction. It was quite true that the
streets which the daymen attended to, looixd su-
perior to those cleansed only periodically, but
the practical ralue of the difference was consi-
dered by many not to be worth the sum of mone^
paid for it. It was also felt that, if it was conti-
nued, It should upon principle be extended at least
to all streets of similar traffic to those upon which
it had been tried ; and as, after due consideration,
the Commission thought that one daily sweeping
was sufficient, both for health and comfort, the
day or continuous sweeping was abandoned, and
the whole City only received, from that time to
the present, the usual daily sweeping."

The "present" time is shown by the date of
Mr. Haywood's Report, October 18, 1851. The

• Tlie wages paid arc not stated.

reason assigned for the abandonment of the sys-
tem of the daymen is peculiar and characteristic
The system of continuous cleansing gave Tery
great satisfoction, although it was but a degree in
advance of the onee-arday deansinff. The streets
which the daymen attended to "looked," and of
course were, " superior" in cleanliness to those
scavaged periodically. It was also felt that the
principle should "be extended at least to all
streets of similar traffic ;" and why was it not so
extended 1 Because, in a word, "it was not
worth the money;" though by what standard the
value of public cleanliness was calculated, is not
mentioned.

The main question, therefore, is, what is the
difference in toe cost of the two sjrstems, and if
the admitted " superior cleanliness" produced by
the continuous mode of scavaging, in comparison
with that obtained by the intermittent mode, of
sufficient public value to wanant the increased
expense (if any) — in a word, as the City people
say — is it worih the money t

First, as to the comparative cost of the two
STstenu: after a statement of the contracts for
the dusting and cleansing of the City (matters
I have before treated of) Mr. Haywood, for the
purpose of making a comparison of the present
City system of scavaging with the street-orderly
system, gives the twle in the opposite psfe to
show the cost of street cleansing and dotting
within the jurisdiction of the City Court of Sewers.

Mr. Haywood then invites attention to the sub-
joined statement of the National Philanthropic
Association, on the occurrence of a demonstration
as to the efficiency and economy of the street-
orderly system.

"Association for the Promotion of Street Paving,
rieandng. Draining, Ac., 20, Vere Street, Oxford
Street, January 86th, 1846.

" Approximation to the total Expenses connected with
cleansing, as an experiment, certam parts of the City of
London, commencing December, 1845, for the period of
two months.
" 350 brooms, bang an average of 5 brooms ;£'. s. d.

foreachman >*> 13 10

Forearting J»n 1 9

Foradv-ertislng 65 0 0

For rent of store-room. 3/. 14«.; Clerks'

salaries. 12/.; Messcngers,6<.&«.; wooden

clogs for men. 2/. 5«. lOd. ; expenses of

washing wood pavement, SL 2f} 4 10

Expenses of barrows .. 24 14 0

Christmas dinner to men, foremen, and

superintendents (97) 1^12 6

83 men (averaging at 2«. 6d. per day) fbr

9wecks 573 15 0

4 superintendents at 25«. 4d., foreman at

18«.. cart foreman 20*., storekeeper 18«.,

chief superintendenU 2f., for 9 weeks . . 112 10 0
Fur various small articles, brushes, rakes,

&e 36 7 8

Petty expenses of the ofBce, postages, dec,

and stationery 6 0 0

Approximation to the total cost of the ex-
pense i:987 4 7

Signed, M. Datiks, Secretary."
" I will now," says Mr. Haywood, " without
further present reference to the Report of the
Association, proceed to form an estimate of the
expenses of the system as they would have been
if it had been extended to the whole City, and
which estimate will be based upon the informa-

LOITDON LABOUR AND THS LONDON POOM.

878

TABLB SHOWING THB COST OP STREBT CLEANSING AND BUSTING WITHIN
THE JURISDICTION OP THB CITY COURT OP SBWERS.

Dbte.

YuaT ending
Michaelmas, 1841

1342

#'

1^3

1814

lS4e
1847
I&4&
1&4&
l&EO
1B51

El
Sis

^IT

^^1

iepw^taly

lepftnLtdy

tofetli^
lepa^telj

Miin itreeU of largeit
tfaiflc ruiirijng east nnd

otter piiactpftl itt««t»
etety otil^r rfoy, tbe
whole pf the remainder
0f th* public mnyi ttmei
A week ; duit to be re-
moved at Icaft twici a
week.

1S4E lepfiftteV

leptnteTj
icpamtelj
■epmalelj

tether
togetk«r
together

Leftdlfig or Prfrtdpftl ftjiture

iti ihe Refjiiuilionii

fm the DuitlOf and 0»ii»n««

'Sell

£ i. d.

4590 6 0

SSaS 17 0

21)34 4 6

5*^ as

ill.

£ M. d.

ill
a c e;

4fiS0 d 0

3633 IT 0

Average per ADnum for 3 Yeais,.

U^m Ime of itreeti cleansed
dail^, other principal
■tr^t# every otfier day,
aDd all other pliu:^ tm^t
In ererf week ; da*t to
be rerooted at lewl Enci
a week,

3826 U 6

2033 2 0

•II]
|il

til

m

2084 4 6

343e ^ fl

ss2e 12 e

£838 2 0

Areng* p^ Ahntm ^f tbft S Year* ;5g^ ?? 3
6034 6 0 1354 5 0 468D 1 0

Daily cJt&ntiit^ flironghont'
every public way of
every deicription i duit
to be remored twic« »
week*

8014 S 0

of|722e 1 B

7486 11 6

6779 16 0

6328 17 0

445S 5 0:3558 17 0

1328 15 0 5897 fl 6

7486 11 6

6779 le 0

6328 IT 0

Average per Annim of tbe la^t 6 Teart , 5788 11 6

NoTB.— From 24th June, 1846, to 24th June. 1847, the Commbslon made their own experiment upon the Street-
Orderly System— the expenses of such experiment are included in the abore amounts. In 1840 the area of the
jurisdictton of the Commission was increased by the addition of vazknia predncU under the City of London
Sewers' Act.

tion as to the ezpensei of the lystep, famished
by the experiment or demonstration made by the
Association within your jorisdiction.

" The total cost of the experiment was
£987 it, 7d., and, deducting the charges imder
the head of advertising, Christmas dinner, and
petty cash expenses, and also that for office-rent,
clerks, messengers, &c, and assigning £50 as the
value of the implements at that time for fiitnre
use, there is left a bnUmce of £822 7s, 8<l. as
the clear cost of the experiment.

"The experiment was tried for a period of
eight weeks exactly, according to the return made
to the Commission by the Superintendent of the
Association, but as in the statement of expenses
the wages appear to be included for a period of
nine weeks, I have assumed nine weeks af the
correct figure, and the experiment must therefore
have cost a sum of £822 7s. 3d for that period,
or at the rate of about £91 per week.

i74

LOSDOir LABOUR ANJ> TEE JANDOM FOOIL

Squ. Yards

*' Now the total area of tlM- cirriagf
wny of the City ol Iiondbn W9M it

thattimo 418,000

^ And the area of th* foot-way . . 816,000

« Hafciog a total of 734,000

" And tlkt area of the carriagv-way

dewed by the atRelHirderaoa wsm 80;670

** And the area of tbi foot-w^ . • 18,590

']l[aking»t«talof

49,260

"The total airea of fi>o>wiiy and carria^way
deanied wm therefore l-lfith of th* whaU of the
carriage-way and foot^way of the City ; or^ tdcen

Xrately, the carriage-way cleansed wm aom^
t more than l'14th of the whole of tha City
eazriage-way.

" It haa been seen alio that the total ooet of
cleansing this 1-1 4th portion of the caixiage-way,
after deducting all eztraneous expenses^ was at

the rate per week of £91

Or at the rate, per annum, of .... £4782

" To assign an expenditure in the same propor-
tion for the remaining 18-14iha of the whole car-
riage-way area of the City would not be just, for,
in the fint pbice, allowance must be made, owing to
the dirt brought off from the adjacent streets^ which,
it is assumed, would not bare been the case had they
also been cleansed opon- the streetrorderly sys-
tem; and moreorer, as the majority of the streets
deansed were those of laige traffic, a larglr pro-
portion of labour was needed to them than would
have been the case had the experiment been upon
any equal area of carriage-way, taken from a dis-
trict comprehending streets of all sizes and de-
grees of traffic; but if 1 assume that the l-14th
portion of the City cleansed represents 1-1 1th of
the whole in the labour needed fur cleansing the
whole of the City upon the same system, I be-
lieve I shall have made a very fair deduction,
and shall, if anything, err in favour of the expe-
riment.

'' Estimating, therefore, the expense of cleans-
ing the whole of the City carrlHgc-way upon the
st^Ge^orderly system according to the expenses of
the experiment made in 184^-C, and from the
data then furnished, it appears that cleansing
upon such system would have come to an annual
sum of 52,052/.

'* It will be seen that there is a remarkable
difference between this estimata of 52,052/. per
annum and that of 18,000/. per annum estimated
by the Association, and given in their Keport of
the 26th January, 1846 ; and what is more re-
markable is, that my estimate if framed not upon
any assumption of my own, but is a dry calcula-
tion based upon the very figures of expense
furnished by the Association itself, and herein-
bcfoefr recited."

A second demonstration, carried on in the City
by the street-orderlies, is detailed by Mr. Haywood,
but as he draws the same conclusions from it,
there is no necessity to do other than allude to it
here.

According to the above estimate, it certainly
most be admitted that the diftrenee between the
two aeoDnati i% af Mr. Haywood says, " remark-
able"— the one being nearly three times more
than the other. But let us, for fairness' sake, test
the cost of cleansing the City thorough&res upon
the continuous plan of scavaging by the figures
given in Mr. Haywood's own report, and see
whether the above ooadusion is warranted by the
&cta then seated. From June, 1846, to June,
1847, we have sten. that several of the main
streets in the City wen deansed continnoudy
throughout the day by what were called "day-
men"— that is to say, 47,000 superfidal yards of
the principal thoroughfisret wen kej^ dean {fi^fter
the daily deaasing of them by the contractor's
men) by a body of men similar in their mode of
operation to the street-orderlies, and who removed
ail the dirt as soon as deposited between the
hours of the principal traffic. The cost of this
flzperimant (for such it seems to have been)
was, for the twelve months, as we have seen,
1528/. 18s. Now if the expense of cleansing
47,000 superficial yards upen the continuous
metiiod was 1529/., then, according to Cocker,
770,157 yards (tho total area of the public ways
of the City) would cost 25,054/.; and, adding to
this 6828/. for the sum paid to the contractors
for the daily scavaglhg, we have only 81,882/.
for the gross expense of cleansing the whole of
the City thoroughfares once a day by the "regular
scavagers," and keeping them clean afiervardt by
a body similar to the street-orderlies — a difference
of upwards of 20,000/. between the facts and
figures of the City Surveyer,

It would appear to me, therefore, that Mr.
Haywood has erred, in estimating the probable
expense of the street-orderly system of scavaging
applied to the City at 52,000/. per annum, for, by
his own showing, it actually cost the authorities
for tho one year when it was tried there, only
1529/. for 47,000 superficial yards, at which rate
770,000 yards could not cost more than 31,500/.,
and this, even allowing that the same amount
of labour would be required for the continuous
cleansing of the minor thoroughfares as was needed
for the principal ones. That the error is on over-
sight on the part of the City Surveyor, the whole
tone of his lleport is sufficient to assure us, for it
is at once moderate and candid.

It must, on the other hand, be admitted, that Mr.
Haywood is perfectly correct as to the difference
between tho cost of the "demonstration" of the
street-orderly system of cleanting in the City, and
the estimated cost of that mode of scavaging
when brought into regular operation there ; this,
however, the year's experience of the City " day-
men " shows, could not posdbly exceed 82,000/.,
and might and probably would be much less, when
we take into account the smaller quantity of labour
required for the minor thoroughfares — the extra
value of the street manure when collected free from
mud — the saving in the expense of watering the
streets (this not being required under the orderly
system) — and the abolition of the daily scavaging,
which is included in the sum above cited, but

LONDON LABOUR ANI> THB LONDON POOR.

275

which would be no longer noedod wen the
arderliei employed^ tneh work being perfstmed
by them at the commenoenMnt of their day's
labotm; to that I am diaposed to bdiere^ali thhogs
oonaidered, that aomewhere abont %Q,QQOL per
annum might be the gron expenM of eontinwraely
deansing the Gitj. Mr. Ooehnne ettbrnrtea il a4
18,000/. Bat whedier the admitted anperiev
elouilinear of the ftxacti^ and the empleyvenl of
an extra number of people, witt be held by the
citizens to be wortk tber eaclni iwaueyv it ienet for
me to say. If, howerer, the iameiiid ctewilimw
effected by the ftreatKaaladiea i» to b» braoglii
about by a decrease of the wages of the regular
Bcafagen- &em 16i. t» 19a a inA, whicb is the
amount upon, wfaidhf Mr. Cedmme forma his
estimate, then I do not hesitate to saj the City
authoritiee will be gsfeecs^ in the matter of poor-
rates at least, by an adherenee to the present
method of sewfaging^ paying as they do the best
wages, and indeed aflKurding an illustrioas ex-
ample to all the metropolitan parishes, in refusing
to gfant contiwrts to any master searagers but
such as eonsent to dsal fairly with the men in their
employ. And I do hope and trust, for the sake of
the working-men, the City Commissioners of
Sewers will, should they deeide upon haying the
Cil;y cleansed continuously, make the same re-
qunsment of Mr. Cochrane, before they allow his
street-orderlies to disphice the regular scaragera
at present employed there.

Benefits to the community, gained at the ex-
pense of " t)ie people," are really great eyils. The
street-orderly system is a good one when applied
to parishes employing paupers and paying them
Is, l^cl. and a loaf per day, or even nothing, ex-
cept their food, ftor their labour. Here it elevates
paupers into independent labourers ; but, applied
to those localities where the highest wages are
paid, and there is the greatest regard shown for the
welfore of the* workmen, it is merely a scurf-system
of degrading the independent labourers to the
level of paupen, by reducing the wages of the
reguhir scavagers foem 16«. to 1!2». per week. The
avowed object of the street-orderly system is to
provide- employment for able-bodied men, and so
to prevent them becoming a burthen to the parish,
Blit is not a reduction of the seavagez^s wages
to the sflHnt of 25 per cent, a week, more
likely te eneourage than to or«vfn( such a result 1
This is the weak point of the orderly system, and
one whidi gentlemen calling themselves phUan^
thropiMa shmild really blush to be parties to.

After all, the opinion to ^n^ich I am led is this —
the street-orderly system is inoompanbly the best
mode of scacvaging, and the payment oC the men by
" honourable" masters the best mode of employing
the seavagen. The evils of the sewraging trade
appear to me to spring chiefly fhnn the parsimony
of the parish authorities — either employing their
own paupers without adequate remuneration, or
else paying such prices to the contractors as almost
necessitatBe the under-payment, of the men in
their employ. Were I to lill a volmne, tiiis iv all
that could be said on the matter.

Ov TUB '^Jrt ahd Ho6b" Ststek ov

SGAYAQIirO. ^

Tbx&b appears at the present time » bent in the
public miud for an improved system of scavagery.
Until the ravages of the cholera in 1882, and
again in 1848, roused the attention of Government
and of the country, men seemed satisfied to dwell
in dirty streeU, and to con^tulate themselves
that the public waya were dirtier in the days of
their fathers ; a feeling or a spirit which has no
doabt existed in all cities, from the days of those
original seavagers, the vultures and hyenas of
Africa and the Sast, the adjutants of Caleatti^
and the hawks— the common glades or kites of
this- country — and which, we are told, in the days
el Henry VIII. used to fly down among the
paisengera to remove the offsl of the butchers and
poulterers' stalls in the metropolitan markets, and
in- consideration of which services it was forbidden
to- kill them--down to the mechanieai sweeping
of the streets of London, and even to Mr.
Cochrane's excellent street-ordeiUlB.

Besides the pUin suggested by Mr. Cochrane,
whose orderlies oleanse the streets without wet-
ting, and consequently without dirtying, the sup*
fiMe by the use of the watering-carty there is the
opposite method proposed by Mr. Lee, of Sheffield^
and other gentlemen, who recommend street-
cleansing by the hose and jet, that is to say, by
flushing the streets with water at a high pressure,
OS the sewers are now flushed ; and so, by
vathing rather than sweeping the dhrt of the
streets into the sewers, through the momentum
of the stream of water, dispensing altogether with
the scavager's broom, shovel, and cart.

In order to complete this account of the sea-
vaging of the streets of London, I must, in con-
clusion, say a few words on this method, advocated
as it is by the Board of Health, and sanctioned by
scientific men. By the application of a hose, with
a jet or water pipe attached to a fire-plug, the
water being at high pressure, a stream of fluid is
projected along the street's surfoce with force enough
to wash away all before it mto the sewers, while
by the same apparatus it can be thrown over the
fronts of the houses. This mode of street-cleansing
prevails in some American cities, especially in
Philadelphia, where the principal thoroughfoies
are said to be kept admirably clean by it ; while
the fronts of the houses are as bright aa those in
the towns of Holland, where they are washed,
not by meehanioal appliances, but by water thrown
over them out of scoops by hand hibour— one of
the instanees of the minute and indefatigable in-
dustry of the Dutch.

It is stated in one of the Reports of the Board
of Health, that " unless cleansing be general and
simultaneous, much of the dirt of one district is
carried by tnfRc into another. By tiie subdivisioff
of the metropolis into small districts, the duty of
cleansing the public carriage-way is thrown upon
a numb^ of obscure and irresponsftle authorities ;
while the duty of cleansing the public footways,
which are no less important, are charged upon
multitudes of private individuals." [The grammar

276

LONDON LABOUR AND THS LONDON POOR.

ii the Board of Health's granmar.] " It ia a fidae
pecuniarj economy, in the case of the poorest in-
habitants of court or alley, who obtain their liveli-
hood by any regular occupation, to charge upon
each family the duty of cleansing the footway
before their doors. The performance of this senrice
daily, at a rate of Id. per week per house or per
fiunily, would be an economy in soap and clothes
to persons the average value of whose time is never
less than 2d. per hour." [This is at the rate of 2f.
a day ; did this most innocent Board ntver hear
of work yielding \t. 6d. a week) But the
sanitary authorities seem to be as fond as teeto-
tallers of " going to extremes.**]

In another part of the same Report the process
and results are described. It is also stated that
for the success of this method of street purification
the pavement must be good ; for "a powerful jet,
applied by the hose, would scoop out hollows in
unpaved places, and also loosen and remove the
stones in those that are badly paved." As every
public place ought to be well-paved, this necessity
of new and gomPpavement is no reasonable objec-
tion to the plan, though it certainly admits of a ques-
tion as to the durability of the roads— the maoida-
mized especially — under this continual soaking.
Sir Henry Pamell, the great road authority, speaks
of wet as the main destroyer of the highways.

It is stated in the Report, after the mention of
experiments having been made by Mr. Lovick,
Mr. Hale, and Mr. Lee (Mr. Lee being one of the
engineering inspectors of the Board), that

"Mr. Lovick, at the instance of the Metro-
politan Commissioners of Sewers, conducted his
experiments with such jets as could be obtained
from the water companies' mains in eligible places;
but the pressure wns low and insufficient. Never-
theless, it appeared that, taking the extra quan-
tity of water required at the actual expense of
pumping, the paved surfaces might be washed
clean at one-half the price of the scavagers'
manual labour in sweeping. Mr. Lee*8 trials
were made at Sheffield, with the aid of a more
powerful and suitable pressure, and he found that
with such pressure as he obtained the cleansing
might be effected in one-third the time, and at
one-third the usual expense^ of the scavagers'
labour of sweeping the surface with the broom."
[This expense varies, and the Board nowhere
states at what rate it is computed ; the scavagers'
wages varying 100 per cent.]

" The ef!ect of this mode of cleansing in close
couru and streets," it is further stated, " was
found to be peculiarly grateful in hot weather.
The water was first thrown up and diffused in a
thin sheet, it was then applied rapidly to clean-
sing the surfece and the side walls, as well as the
pavements." Mr. Lovick states that the immediate
effect of this operation was to lower the tempera-
ture, and to produce a sense of freshness, similar
to that experienced after a heavy thunder-shower
in hot weather. But there is nothing said as to
the probable effect of this state of things in win-
ter— a hard frost for instance. The same expedient
was resorted to for cooling the yards and outer
couru of hospitals, and the shower thrown on the

windowi of the wards afibrded great relie£ Mrw
Lovick, in kit Beport on the trial works for
cleansing courts, states : —

" The importance of water as an agent in the
improvement and preservation of health being in
proportion to the nnhealthiness or depresaed con-
dition of districts, its application to close courts
and densely-populated localities^ in which a low
sanitary condition must obtain, xi of primary im-
portance. Having shown the pnctacability of
applying this system (cleansing by jets of water)
to the general deansmg of the streets, my further
labours have been, and are now, directed to this
end.

"For the purpose of ascertaining the efiect
produced by operations of this nature upon the
atmosphere, two courts were selected: Church-
passage, New Compton-streety open at both ends,
with a carriage-way in the centre, and footway
on each side ; and Lloyd's-conrt, Crown-street, St.
Giles's, a close court, with, at one entrance, a
covered passage about 40 fieet in length : both
courts were in a very filthy condition; in Church-
passage there were dead decaying cats and fish,
with offal, straw, and refuse scsitered over the
surfiue ; at one end an entrance to a private yard
was used as a urinal ; in every part there were
most ofiensive smells.

"Lloyd's-court was in a somewhat similar
condition, the covered entrance being used as a
general urinal, presenting a disgusting appearance ;
the whole atmosphere of the court was loaded with
highly-offensive effluvia ; in the covered entrance
this was more particularly discernible.

" The property of water, aa an absorbent, was
rendered strikingly apparent in the immediate
and marked effects of its application, a purity and
freshness remarkably contrasted to the former
close and foul condition prevailing throughout.
A test of this, striking and unexpected, was the
change at different periods in the relative condi-
tion of atmosphere of the courts and of the con-
tiguous streets. In their ordinary condition, as
might have been expected, the atmosphere was
purer in the streets than in the courts ; it was to
be inferred that the cleansing would have more
nearly assimilated these conditions. This was
not only the case, but it was found to have
effected a complete change; the atmosphere of
the courts at the close of the operations being far
fresher and purer than the atmosphere of the
streets. The effect produced was in every respect
satisfactory and complete ; and was the theme of
conversation with the lookers-on, and with the
men who conducted the operations.

"The expense of these operations, including
water, would be, for —

" Church-passage (time, five minutes), l^d.

" Lloyd's-court (time, ten minutes), Z\d.

" Mr. Hale, another officer, gave a similar
statement."

Other experiments are thus detailed : —

" Lascelles-court, Broad-street, St. Giles's. This
court was pointed out to me as one of the worst
in London. Before cleansing it smelt intolerable "
[tie] "and looked disgusting. Besides an abun-

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

277

dance of ordinary filth ariaing from the exposure
of refiue, the surface of the court contained heaps
of human excrement, there being only one privy
to the whole court, and that not in a state to be

publicly nsed The cleansing operations

were commenced by sprinkling the court with
deodorising fluid, mixed with 20 times its yolume
of water; a great chango, firom a very pungent
odour to an imperceptible smell, was immediately
effected ; after which the refuse of the court was
washed away, and the pavement thoroughly
cleansed by the hose and jet; and now this place,
which before was in a state almost indescribable,
presented an appearance of oomparatiye comfort
and respectability."

It is stated aa the refult of another experiment
in " an ordinary wide street with plenty of traffic,"
that "water-carts and ordinary rains only create
the mud which the jet«entirely remores, giving to
the pavement the appearance of having been as
thoroughly cleansed as the. private stone steps in
front of the houses."

With respect to Mr. Lee's experiments in
Sheffield, I find that Messrs. Guest, of Bother-
ham, are patentees of a tap for the discharge
of water at high pressures, and that they haid
adapted their invention to the purpose of a fire-
plug and stand pipe suitable for street-cleansing by
the hose and jet. Church-street, one of the prin-
cipal thoroughfiires, was experimentally cleansed
by this process : " The carriage-way is from 20
to 24 feet wide, and about 150 yards lon^. It
was washed almost as clean as a house-floor m five
minutes." Mr. Lee expresses his conviction that,
by the agency of the hose and jet, every street in
that populous borough mieht be cleansed at about
Is. per annum for each house. " The principal
thoroughfitfes,** he states, ** could be thus made
perfectly clean, three times every week, before
business hours, and the minor streets and lanes
twice, or once per week, at later hours in the day,
by the agency of an abundant supply of water,
at Uu <Aa«i Aa(^ the rum neceuaryfor the cartage
alone of an equal quantity of refuse in a solid or
semi-fluid condition."

The highways most frequented in Sheffield con-
stitute about one-half of the whole extent of the
streets and roads in the borough, measuring 47
miles. This length, Mr. Lee computes, might be
effectually cleansed with the hose and jet, ten
miles of it three times a week, 21 miles twice a
week, and 16 miles once a week, a total of
88 miles weekly, or 4576 miles yearly. The
quantity of Water required would be 8000 gallons
a mile, or a yearly total of 18,728,000 gedlons.
This water might be supplied, Mr. Lee opines, at
lc2. per 1000 ^lons (572. 4«. per annum), although
the price obtained by the Water-works Company
waa 64(2. per 1000 gallons (871/. 16s. per annum).
" I now proceed," he says, " to the cost of labour :
4576 miles per annum is equal to 141 miles for
each working day, or to six sets of two men
cleansing 2^ miles per day each set. To these
must be added three horses and carts, and three
carters, for the removal of such dibrit as cannot
be washed away and for such parts of the town as

cannot be cleansed by this system, making a total
of fifteen men. Vheir wages I would fix at 50/.
per annum each. The estimate is as follows : —

"Annual interest upon the first cost

of hose and pipes, three horses and £

carts 80

Fifteen men's wages .... 750

Three horses' provender . . . 150

Wear, tear, and depreciation of hose, &c. 250

Management and incidentals, say • . 120

£1800."

The estimate, it will be seen, is based on the
supposition that the water tupply ehould he at
the public cast, and not a specific charge for the
purposes of street-cleansing.

The 47 miles of highway of Sheffield is but
three miles less than those of the city of London,
the cost of cleansing which is, according to the
estimate before given, no less than 18,000/.

The Sheffield account is divested of all calcula-
tions as to house-dust and ashes, and the charge
for watering-carts ; but, taking merely the sum
paid to scavaging contractors, and assigning 1000/.
(out of the 2485/.), as the proportion of salaries,
&c., under the department of scavagery in the
management of the City Conunissioners, we find
that while the expense of street-cleansing by the
Sheffield hose and jet was little more than
84/., in London, by the ordinary mode, it was
upwards of 140/. per mile, or more than four
times as much. The hose and jet system is
said to have washed the streets of Sheffield as
clean as a house-floor, which could not be said of
it in London. The streets of the City, it should
also be borne in mind, are now swept daily;
Mr. Lee proposes only a periodical cleaning for
Sheffield, or once, twice, and thrice a week. Of
the cost of the experiments made in London with
the hose and jet, in Lascelles-court, &c, nothing is
said.

Street-cleansing by the hose and jet is, then, aa
yet but an experiment. It has not, like the street-
orderly mode, been tested continuously or sys-
tematically ; but the experiments are so curious and
sometimes so startling in their results that it was
necessary to give a brief account of them here, in
order to render this account of the cleansing of the
streets of the metropolis as comprehensive as pos-
sible. For my own part, I must confess the
street-orderly system appears to excel all other
modes of scavagery, producing at once the greatest
cleanliness with the greatest employment to the
poor. Nor am I so convinced as the theoretic and
crotchety Board of Health as to the healthfulness
of dampness, or the daily evaporation of a sheet of
even clean water equal in extent to the entire sur-
fiue of the London streets. It is certainly doubtfiU,
to say the least, whether so much additional mois-
ture might improve the public health, which the
Board are instituted to protect; rain certainly con-
tributes to cleanliness, and yet no one would
advocate continued wet weather as a source of
general convalescence.

I shall conclude this account of the scavaging

278

LONDON LABOUR AND TEE LONDON POOR.

of London, with the following brief itatement as
to the mode in which theie matters are condacted
abroad.

In Paris, where our system of parochial legis-
lation and management is unknown, the scarag-
ing of the streets — so frequently matters of private
specuhition with us — is under the immediate
direction of the municipality, and the Govern-
ment publish the returns, as they do of the revenue
of their capital from the abattoirs^ the interments,
and other sources.

In the Moniteur for December 10, 1848, it
is stated that the refuse of the streets of Paris
•ells for 500,500 francs (20,020/.), when sold by
auction in the mass ; and 8,800,000 francs (equal
to 152,000/.) when, after having lain in the
proper receptacles, until fit for manure, it is sold
by tho cabic foot In 1823, the streeu of Paris
were leased for 75,000 francs (3000Z.) per annum
in 1831 the value was 166,000 francs (6640/.);
and siuce 1845 the price has risen to the sum first
named, viz., 500,500 francs (20,0202.); from
which, however, is to be deducted the expense of
deansing, &c I may add, that the receptacles
•Unded to are large places provided by Qovem-
ment, where the manure is deposited and left to
lannent for twelve or eighteen months.

Of Tm Cost and T&aftio or tex SzBxm
OF Lospoir.
I BATB, at page 183 of the present volume, given
a brief statement of the annual cost attending the
keeping of the streets of the metropolis in work-
ing order.

The formation of the streets of a capital like
London, the busiest in the world — streets traversed
daily by what Cowper, even in his day, described
as "the ten thousand wheels" of commerce — ^ii
an eUborate and costly work.

In my former account I gave an estimate which
referred to tho amount dispensed weekly in
wages for the labour of the workmen engaged in
lajring down the paved roads of the metropolis.
This was at the rate of 100,000/. per week; that
is to say, calculating the operation of relaying tho
•treets to occupy one year in every five,* there is
no less than 5,200,000/. expended in that time
among the workpeople so engaged. The sum
expended in labour for the continued repairs of
the roads, after being so relaid, appears to be
about 20,000/. per week*, or, in round numbers,
about 1,000,000/. a year; so that the gross sum
annually disbursed to the labourers engaged in
the construction of the roads of London would
leem to be about 2,250,000/., that is to say,
1,000,000/. for repairing the old roads, and
1,250,000/. per annum for laying down new ones
in their place.

It now remains for me to set forth the gross
cost of the metropolitan highways, that is to say,
the sum annually expended in both Ubour and
materuils, as well for relaying as for repairing
the roads.

The granite-built streets cost, when relaid,

♦ At p. 1H3 tho sum of 1B,225/. Is aaid to be expended
in repairs annuaUy,- it ihoul I have been nt/eekly.

about 11,000/. the mile, of ten yards' width,
which is at the rate of 12s. 6<L the square yard,
materials and labour included, the granite (Aber-
deen) being 1/. 5s. per ton, and one ton of "seven-
inch" being sufficient to cover about three square
yards.

The average cost of a macadamized road,
materials and labour included, if constructed from
the foundation, is about 4400/. per street mile
(ten yards wide) — 5s. the superficial yard being a
fairprice for materials and labour.

Wood pavement, on the other hand, costs about
9680/. a mile of ten yards' width ibr materials
and labour, which is at the nUe of lli. the super-
ficial yard.

The cost of repairs, aiaterials and labour in-
cluded, is, for granite pavement about l^d. per
square yard, or 100/. the street mile of ten yards
wide; for "Macadam'* it is from 6d. to 3«. 6</.,
or an average of Is. Qd. per superficial yard, which
is at the rate of 1820/. the street mile; while the
wood pavement costs about the aame for repairs as
the ffranite.

The total cost of repairing the itnett of Iiondoo,
then, may be taken as fbllowi >^

Repairing granite-boilt streets, per £

' mile of ten yards vride . . 100
JUpairittg mocadamiied rotdM, per

ftreetmile 1820

Bepairing wood paveDent, per street

mile 100

Or, af a total for all London, —

Bepairing 400 miles of acanitA-bnih
streets, at 100/. per mile . . 40,000

Bepairing 1350 miles of macadam-
ised streets, at 1320/. per mile . 1,782,000

Bepairing five miles of wood, at

100/. per mile .... 500

iei,822,500

The followbg, on the other hand, may be taken
as the total cost of reconttrucUng the London
streets : —

Granito-built streets, per mile ten yards

wide

Macadamized streets, per street mile
Wood

Or, as a total for the entire

of London, —

Relaying 400 miles of granite-biult
streets, at 11,000/. per mile .

Relaying 1850 miles of macadam-
ized streets, at 4400/. per mile

Relaying fire miles of wood-bmlt
streeU, at 9680/.

£

11,000

4,400

9,030

and roads

£

4,400,000

6,940,000
48,400

dn0,888,400

But the above refers only to the road, and be-
sides this, there is, as a gentleman to whom I am
much indebted for valuable infi>rmation on the
subject, reminds me, the foot paving, granite
curb, and granite channel not included. The
usual price for paving is 8</. per foot superficial,

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

279

vrhen laid — granite curb 1^ 7d, per foot xun, and
granite channel 12s. per square ]rard.

" Now, presuming that tbree-fonrihB of the
roads/' says my informant, ''have paved foot
paths on each side at an average width of six
feet exclusive of curb, and that one-half of the<
macadamized roads have granite channels on each
side, and that one-third of all the roads have
granite curb on each side; these items for 400
miles of granite road, 1850 macadamized, and
6 miles of wood — together 1755 miles — will there-
fore amount to

Three-fourths of 1756 miles of
streets paved on each side,
six feet wide, at Sd, per foot
superficial ....

One-half of 1850 miles of maca-
damized roads with one foot
of granite channel on each
side, at 12s. ptr yard square .

One-third of 1755 miles of road
with granite curb on each
side, at Is. 7d, per foot run .

t.d.

2,779,892 0 0

458,587 4 5

489,060 0 0

3,726^89 4 5

Cost of constructing 1755 miles
of roadway . . . 10,888,400 0 0

Total cost of constructing the
streets of London . . £14,115,889 4 5

" Accordingly the original cost of the metropolitan
pavements exceeds fourteen millions sterling, and,
calculating that this requires rsnewal every five
years, the gross annual expenditmre will be at the
rate of 2,500,000/. per annum, which, added to
1,822,500/., gives 4,822,500/., or upwards of four
millions and a quarter sterling for the entire annual
cost of the Loxidon roadways.

" From rather extensive ezperienee," adds my
informant, "in building operations, and conse-
quently in making and paying for roads, I am of
opinion that the amount I have shown is under
lather than above the actual cost

" In a great many parts of the metropolis the
roads are made by the servants of a body of Com-
missioners appointed for the purpose; and from
deai-bought experience I can say they are a pub-
lic musance, and would earnestly caution specu-
lating builders against taking building gronnd or
erecting houses in any place where the roads are
under their control. The Conunissioners are gene-
xally old retired tradesmen, and have very little to
occupy their attention, and are often quite ignorant
of their duties'; I have reason to believe, too, that
some of them even use their little authority to
gratify their dislike to some poor builder in their
district, by meddling and quibbling, and while
that Is going on the houses which have been
erected can neither bo let nor sold; so that as
the bills given for the materials keep running,
the builder, when they fall due, is ruined, for
his creditors will not take his unlet houses
for their debts, and no one else will pur-
chase them until let, for none will vent them

without proper accesses. I feel certain that in
those parts where the roads are made by Com-
missioners three times more builders, in proportion
to their nimiber, get into difficulties than in the
districts where they are permitted to make the
roads themselves."

The paved ways and roads of London, then, it
appears, cost in round numbers 10,000,000/.
sterling, and require nearly 2,000,000/. to be
expended upon them annually for repairs.

But this is not the sole expense attendant upon
the construction of the streets of the metropolis.
Frequently, in the formation of new lines of
thoroughfare, large masses of property have to
be bought up, removed, and new buUdings erected
at considerable cost. In a return made pursuant
to an order of the Court of Common Council,
dated 28rd October, 1851, for " An account of all
moneys which have been raised for public works
executed, buildings erected^ or street improve
ments effected, out of the Coal Duties receivable
by the Corporation of London in the character of
trustees for administration or otherwise, since the
same were made chargeable by Parliament for
such purposes in the year 1766," the foUowinf
items are given relating to the cost of the £ciraui-
tion of new streets and improvements of old
ones: —

Street Improvements forming New
Tkorauff/^ares.

for PuUie
Woflu,4w.

Building the bridf e across the river £. «. tf.

Thanies, trom BlackfHan, in the dty
of London, to Upper Ground-street, in
the county of surrey, now called
BlackfVian Bridge, and fonning the
avenues thereto, ami embenking the
north abutment of the said bridge—
(Entrufted to the Corporation of tlie
city of London) 8M>,(M0 • 0

Making a new lineof streets tiom Moor-
fields, opposite Chiswell-atreet, to-
wards the east into Bishomgate«treet
(now Crown-street and Sun-street),
also from the cast end of ChiswelU.
street westward into Barbican— (Cor-
poration of the city of London) . . 16,500 0 0

Making a new street horn Crispin-street,
near Spitalficlds Church, into Bishops-
gate-street (now called Unian-street),
m the city of London and in the
county of Middlesex— (Commissioner.4
named in Act 18, George III., c. 78) . 9,060 0 0

Opening communications between Wap-

Cing-street and Ratditni-highway, and
etwcen Old Gravel-lane and Virginia-
street, all in the county of Middlesex
— (Commissioners appointed under
Act 17. Geo. III., c 22) . . . 1,000 0 0

Formation of Farringdon-atreet, removal
of Fleet -market, and erection of Far-
ringdon-market, in the city of London
—(Corporation of the city of London). 250,000 0 0

Formation of a new street from the md
of Coventry-street to the junction of
Newport-street and Long-acre (Cran-
bourn-street), continuing the line of
street from Waterloo Bridge, already
completed to Bow-street (Upper Wel-
lington-street), and thence northward
into Broad-street, Holboin.and thence
to Charlotte-street, Bloomsbury. ex-
tending Oxford-street in a direct line
through St. Giles's, so as to communi-
cate with Holbom at or near Soutli-
ampton -street (New Oxford-street);
also widening the northern and

280

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

40fl.iW0 0 0

Brought forward .

fouthera extremities of Leman-street,

Goodman't-fieldx, and furmin/< a new

street from the northern side of

Whitechapel to the front of Spital-

fleldi Church (Commercial-street),

and forming a new street from Rosc-

mary-hme to East Smithfield, near to

the entrance of the London -docks;

also formation of a street flrom the

neighbourhood of the Houses of Par<

Uament towards Buckhigham Palace*

In the citT of Westminster (VictoriA-

•treet), all hi the county of Middletex ;

also formation of a line of new street

between Southwark and Westminster

Bridges, in the county of Surrey—

(Her MiO«sty'> Commissloaen of

Woods, Forests, and Land Revenues) O'lS.OuO 0 0

NoTC— The Commissioners of Her
Mi^ty*s Woods have been autho-
rised to raise further moneys on the
credit of the duty of Id. per too for
further ImproTcments in thenelgli-
bourhood of Spiulflelds, but the
Chamberlain is not officially cogni-
• lant of the aroounk
Fteming a new street from the northern

•ndof VictorU-Mreet, Holboni (formed

by the Corporation to Clerkenwell-

green, all in the county of Middleaex)

— (Clerkenweli Improvement Com-
missioners) Sd.noo 0 0

Formation of a new line of streets flrom

King WUllam-ftreet. London Bridge,

to the south side of St Paul's Cathe-
dral, by widening and improring

Cannon-street, making a new street

ftom Cannon-street, near Bridge-row,

to Queen-street, and another street

Aroro the west side of Queen-street, in

a direct line to St Patu's-diurehyud,

and widening Qtieen-strcct, ftrom th«

Junction of the said new street to

Southwark Bridge; also improving

Holborn Bridge and Fleld-lane, and

eflfecting an Improvement In Grace-

church-streeet and Ship Tavem-nas-

sage. all in the city of London— ( Cor-
poration of the city of London) . . 000,000 0 0
Finishing the new street left incomplete

by the Clerkenweli Improvement Com-
missioners, from the end of Victoria-
street, Farringdon-strcet, to Coppice-
row. Clerkenweli. all in the county of

Middle«ex--(Cori)oration of the City

of London) 88.000 0 0

Total cost of forming the above-men-
tioned new thoroughfkres . . 1,764,000 0 0

Improving exhting Thorougl^artt,
Improving existing approaches, and
forming new approaches to new Lon-
don Bridge, viz., in High-street,
Tooley-street, Montague-close. Pcp-
per-allev, Whitehorse-court, Chequer-
court. Chaingate.Churrhyard-pansage,
St Saviour's churchyard, Carter-lane,
Boar's-head-place, Fryingpan-alley,
Green Dragon-court. Joyner-street,
Red Lion-street,Counter-8treet, Three
Crown-court, and the east front of
the Town Hall, all in the Borough of
Southwark; also ground and premise*
at the north-west foot of London
Bridge, Upper Thames^treet, Red-
cross-wharf, Mault's-wharf, High
Timber-street and Broken-wharf,
Swan-naasage, Churchyard-alley, site
of Fishmonger's Hall. Great East-
cheap, Little Eastcheap, Star-court,
Fish-street-hill, Little Tower-street,
Idol-Une. St. Mary-at-hill, Crooked-
Une, Miles-lane, Three Tun-alley,
Warren court. Cannon-street. Graoe-
church-street. Bell-yard. Martin's-lane,
Nicholas-lane, Ciement's-lane, Ab-
church-lane, Sherboroe-Une, Swi-
thm's-lane, Comhill, Lombard-street.
Dove-court, Fox Ordinary^ouzt, Old

£ 9, d.

Post Office Chambers. Mansion-house-
street, Princes-street, Coleman-street.

Coleman-street-buildinn, Moorgate-

street, London Wall, Lothbury,

Tokenhouse-yard, King's Arms-yard,

Great Bell alley, Packer's-court,

White's-aliey. Great Swan-alley.

Crown-court, George-yard, Red Lion-
court. Cateaton-street, Gresham-«treet,

Milk-street, Wood-street. King-street,

Basinghallstreet, Houndsditcb, Lad-
lane, Threadneedle^treet, Aldgate

High-street, and Maiden-lane, all In

the City of London— (Corporation of

the City of London) .... 1,016,421 18 1
Widening and improving the entrance

into London near Templ<sbar. im-
proving the Strand and Fleet-street.

and formation of Pickett-street, and

for making a new street ftom the

east end of Snow-hill to the bottom of

Holbomhill. now caUed Skinner-
street— (Corporatkm of the City of

London) 846,300 0 0

Widenhig and improving Dirty-lane and

part of Brick-lane, leading tnm White-

chapel to SpitalOelds. and for pavug

Dirty-lane, Petticoat-Une. Went-

worth-street. Old Montague-streit,

Chapel-street, Prince»-row, dec all m

the county of Middleaex— (Commis.

aioners appointed by the Act 18,Gea

IIL,c805 1,000 0 0

WIdaninf the avenues tnm the Mtaio-

rlea, through Goodman'a-yaid Into

Preacott-street, and through Swan-

ttrcet and Swan-alley into Manaell-*

street, and from Whitechapel throti(rii -

Somerset-street hito Great MansA-

•treet, all in the county of Middlesex

— (Commisskmcrs named in Act 18,

George III., c 00) .... 1,000 0 0

Total coet of improving the above-
mentioned thoRwgfafarei . . . 1,860,721 13 1

Paving.

Paving the road fhnn Aldersgate Ban to

turnpike in Goswell-street, in the

county of Middlesex— (Commisskmers

Sewers, dec. of the City of London) . 0.000 0 0
Completing the paving of the town

borough of Southwark and certain

parts adjacent— (Commissioners for

executing Act 6. George III., for pav-
ing town and borough of Southwark) 4,000 0 0

Total cost of paving the above-men-
tioned thoroughfares .... 9,000 0 0

Hence the aggregate expense of the preceding
improTemenU has been upwards of 3,000,000/.
sterling.

I have now, in order to complete this account
of the cost of p«iving and cleansing the thorough-
fares of the metropolis, only to add the following
statement as to the traffic of the principal thorough-
fores in the city of London, for which I am in-
debted to Mr. Haywood, the City Surveyor.

By the subjoined Return it will be seen that
there arc two tides as it were in the daily current
of locomotion in the City — the one being at its
flood at 11 o'clock a.v., after which it falls
gradually till 2 o'clock, when it is at its lowest
ebb, and then begins to rise, gradually till
5 o'clock, when it reaches its second flood, and
then begins to decline once more. The point
of greatest traffic in the City is London-bridge,
where the conveyances passing and repassing
amount to 13,099 in the course of twelve hours*.

« At p. 185 the traffic of London Bridge is ftatcd to be
13,000 conveyances per hour, instead of per 18 hours.

THE RUBBISH GAETER.

l^Fmm a Daguerrtotifpi fry Biaild.]

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR,

281

Of theie it would appear, that 9351 consist of one-
hone vehicles and equestrians, 8889 of two-
horse conveyances, and only 859 of vehicles
drawn by more than two horses. The one-horse
vehicles would seem to be between two and three
times as many as the two-horse, which form about
one-fourth of the whole, while those drawn by
more than two horses constitute about one-
sixtieth of the entire number.

The Eetum does not mention the state of the
weather on the several days and hours at which
the obiervations were made, nor does it tell us
whether there was any public event occurring on
those days which was likely to swell or diminish
the traffic beyond its osual proportions. The table,
moreover, it should be remembered, is confined to
the observations of only one day in each locality, so
that we mast be guarded in receiving that which
records a mere accidental set of circumstances as
an example of the general course of events. It
would have been curious to have extended the
observations throughout the night, and so have
ascertained the difference in the traffic; and also
to have noted the decrease in the nmnber of
vehicles passbg during a continuously wet as well
as a shovrerj day. The obsenratioBs should be
further cazxied out to diffisrent aeaions, in order
to be rendered of theiiighest value. Hr. Haywood
and the City authorities would really be conferring
a great boon on the public by so doing.
Of tbm Bosbise Gasxxbs.
Ths pid>liB deanri^g trade, I have before said,
consists of as many divisions tM there are distinct
species of tefiise to be remofvd, and these appear
to be four. There is the Aoiwe-refuse, consisting
of two different kinds, as (1) the wet house-refu«e
or "slops," and "night-soil," and (2) the dry
bouse-relQie, or dust and soot; and there is the
jfrse^refuse, also eonsisting of two distinct kinds,
as (3) the wet street-refuse, or mud and dirt; and
(4) the dry street-refuse or " rubbish."

I now purpose dealing with the labourers en-
gaged ia the collection and removal of the last-
menttoned kind of refuse.

Technologically there are several varieties of
-« rubbish," or rather "dirt," for such appears to
be the generic term, of which "rubbish" is
ttriedp a species. Dirt, according to the under-
standing among the rubbish-carters, would seem
to oonsist of any solid earthy matter, which is of
an useless or refuse character. This dirt the trade
divides into two distinct kinds, vis. : —

1. "Soft dirt," or refuse clay (of which "dry
dlrt^" or refuse soil or mould, is a variety).

% "Hard-dirt," or << hard-core," consisting of
the refuse bricks, ehinmey-pots, sbtes, &c., when
a house is pulled down, as well as the broken
bottleti, pans, pots, or crocks, and oyster-shells,
&c., whioh focm part of the contents of the dust^
man's cart

The phrase "hardcore"* seems strictly to

* The tore in thb term may be a corruption of the
Saxon Gnr. a xoek, rather than that which would at
fint migieat itself a* its ori/pn, via., the Latin our, the
heart. Html-cyrv would therefore mean hard rock-like
rubbish. Instead of lumps of rubbish having a bard
nucleus or heart.

mean all such refuse matter as will admit of
being used as the foundation of roads, buildings,
&c " Rubbish," on the other hand, appears to
be limited, by the trade, to " dry dirt ;" out of the
trade, however, and e^rmologically speaking, it
signifies all such dry and hard refuse mntteras is
rendered useless by wear and tear*. The term
dirt, on the other hand, is generally applied to
soft refuse matter, and dust to dry refuse matter
in a state of minute division, while slops is the
generic term for all toct or liquid refuse matter.
I shall here restrict the term rubbish to all that
dry and hard refuse matter which is the residuum
of certain worn-out or "used-up" earthen com-
modities, as well as the surplus earth which is
removed whenever excsvations are made, either
for the building of houses, the cutting of railways,
the levelling of road*, the laying down of pipes or
drains, and the sinking of wells.

The commodities whose residuum goes to swell
the annual supply of rvhHA, are generally of an
earthy nature. Such commodities as are made of
fibrous or iexiHe materials, go, when " used up,"
chiefly to form manure if of an animal nature, and
to be converted into paper if of a vegetable origin.
The refuse materials tk onr woollen clothes, our
old coats and trousers, are either torn to pieces
and ro-manu&ctured into shoddy, or become the
invigorators of our hop aad other plants ; whereas
those of our linen or cotton garments, our old
shirts and petticoats, fonn the nateriaJs of onr
books and letters; whilo our old ropes, dec, are
converted into either brown paper or oakum.
Those commodities, on the other hand, which are
made of leathern materials, become, when worn
out, the ingredients of the prusriate of potash and
other nitrogenised products manufactured by our
chemists. Our old vooden conunodities, again,
are used principally to kindle our fires; while
the refuse of our fires themselves, whether the
soot which is deposited in the chimney above,
or the ashes which &11 below, are employed
mainly to increase the fertility of our land. Our
worn-out metal commodities, on the other hand,
are newly melted, and go to form fresh commo-
dities when the metals are of the scarcer kind, as
gold, silver, copper, brass, lead, and even iron ;
and when of the more common kind, as is the case
with old tin, and occasionally iron vessels, they
either beeome the ingredients in some of our che-
mical manufactures, or eke whon formed of tin are
cut up into smaller and infarbr commodities. Even
the detritus of onr ttreets is used as the soil of our
market gardens. All this we have already seen,
and we have now to deal more particukrly with

♦ The term rubbUk ba polite corruption of the ori-
ginal word rwklmgtt which is still used by uneducated
people; OA is an 04i«eii9tU termination, as whitish,
slavish, brutish, dec., and is used only in coiincction
with such substantives as arc derived from adjectives, as
English. Scottish, dui. Whereas the affix o^e ii strictly
substantival, as sewage, garbage, wharfage, ikc. and
is found applied only to acUectives derived from sub-
stantives, as tovage. A like polite conruptioii ib found In
the word /ruddintr, which should be suictly pu<id«n : the
addition of the g is as gross a mistake as saying onrdlntf
for garden. There is no such verb as to vud whei)ce
could come the substantival participle pwftHfttf,- and the
French word from which we derive our terra is jwtidjn
without theg-, like iard<n, the root of our ifjidrn.

LONDOir LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR,

STREET

TABLE SHOWING THB NUHBBA OF YBHICLBS AND HOBSBS PASSING THROUGH

HOUBS OP 8 A-M. AND 8 p.m., UPON CBRTAIN

Bite,

hJulf, lascn

10th „

lith p,

I5lh ,>

mh ,*

l8Eh M

SJfth ».

23rd ,,

smb „

sr*b J.

2Srth M

smh ,,

Slit ,»
lit Aug.

«nd ,.

3td I,

Sttiu^n.

TemHc llAr Gate . . . * .
Holbern Hill, by St. Andnev't Church
Ludgite Hill, by PHtrnmitrBrt
Newg»tr-itTfvt< by Otd Uailey ^ ,
Ald!eruatc>^itreet, by Fnim-itreet •
Chetpilcle, bj Foster^ Up^? , .
PouUlT, bV MAnkirjn House . ,
Flnibunr pA¥«nent, by Sauth-^pliiiCt .
Comhtlfp by Roy*! E^Lchjinge *
Threnrin«<lle-rtTwt » . . .
Gnux-chufch-itrott, by Eu P»ter^*-Al)ej
Lombard-AUn^et, by Dfrcbifi-ltee
eiihoptnte Wlthtn^ by Urisi SL Itelen*!
Ldndqii Brl4(9 ,....,
BUboiti«i^4t»et WUh^ by City boundr.
Aldfrate His^-itrwt, by dkto .
LeHpnhairat... rpar ol Ka3\ IndU Hotiie
Eaftchetp, by PhilpoL4*ne
To«rr»ireet< by ^lAik-lAine
Lower ThiB.mcf-itt«i|* by )](Holpb4Biio
QUckftlAi^ Brid^ » , ^ «
UpDTF ThacncA^rtet, fvu of Queeu-itfwt
Smkhfldd Ban * . * * ^

Hour ending

diiwii by

s<ia eo

Hmir flidiug

Vebtd**
dnttn by

DOB

S 1=0

Hour rndldir

31 A.J1.

dimm tiy

'I

\m
ie(j
ni>i

as!
]^

177

77

SB

339
liTl

ni

141
40
37
]4>
7"
43

4t! 44ft

G; 4fl(l
16 IM>

Id 43a

" ifio

£017 iSSe 303 8tS] 29G!7 3a»)B41£|il7tt 31£ 8130 ^tS9 £97

Hour eodhif
13 AJi

V«hicl»
diciirabf

13
»t

(41
36'
I«

7
17

3
IB

4

13'

3*1 1 «:

UA
196

m
3i

28! l\
41 7

110

as

173
119

m
\1&

t4

143
f74

\m

145

1J»)
S4
39
7
8U
42
14
30

30.A
Sc

»D
13 b

11 r
17 a

Sk
7i

10 «
3D If

m
IS

s

STREET TRAFFIC.

TABLE SHOWING TOTALS OF EVERY DESCRIPTION OP VEHICLE PASSING PER
HOUR AND PER DAY OF 12 HOURS THROUGH CERTAIN STREETS WITHIN THE
CITY OF LONDON.

Date.

Sltuotknt

Mot"iL» T.trbtHO

Total

2 *-

1

Jon*

^

10

11

11

1

s

3

4

S

S

Ml

a. H.

A.M.

il. IT.

Noon

p. K,

p. H.

P- H.

W* M*

F, M,

r. M.

p,lf>.fc.l

■< =

laso.
July H

TiMTitile Bur Gat* .

311

jse

7^4

757

ffiii r-m

7^1

737

733

C7I

537 614

'tt.

ms

M »

Jlolbnni-bllLbySt.Aiid.Ch.

W

ass

*57ii

&m

fifs &«

63i

377

ma

443

941 317

mNii

m

it 10

Ludi^ate-hjil* by HkiiirnL

361

47ff

7ai

dae

783* su

Gm

£31

am

&U4

Ai3 421V fl««» 5«»

w

Nt'W(;nte-it,t Ijy Old Bailpy .

^il>

338

Si»

*ny

5M ikT7

m

73B

sTit

»i3

4S7 3iH (£»73, 531

M lit

Al(Ji'rvi5»tMLi by Faun-it. .
CbvaFvidB, by Fodtfer^lan* .
Poultry t by Msnflkni ilouie

iW

Sfil

ai)H

l!W

SU SX-i

m

SIW

J!.^

^33

^y lat asffil 3is

1, 13

473

HftJ

l]i!4

]](]»

lojft nx^j

im

1076

tJOti

»^

wm 499, nci63, ^1

» u

414

7»y?

HI7I

jyfjo

1043

Wl

M75

itJO

i*sii

Hii

ans. 595, 10174 ss^

iP 16

Fiii*burj-ptvfc, by Smith- pi
Carahin, bv Roy. Eicchan^v
T] 1 rtadu wo] c-ilrwt .

SO

3M

475

m

3(i4

:i4j

S<I3

347

4Hri

47s

40© 844 4mtl 371

1 17

IBl

3154

47a

461

4H7

441

493

451

4«U

430

aM ml 4i?i6i «£)

;i la

WJ

]4it

Sfl9

gu

£|J

1*4

SJi

m

im

a*5

140 joe ai^i^ m

il 10

GT*«<?h-«t*. by St. PH. -alley

aiu)

3;»3

4^

«*7

3Ba

423

464

iSJ6

mi

436

Xm 33l| 4flfi7 4f?7,

M so

Lombaidat.p by BiKhln-la

137

117

1«

18»

IWi

m

S^

3(14

f4a

S^

m 1«; SSasI 185

iS

Btiha]iig.'it., by Gt SL Hd.
Londcdi^Tidie •■ . «

asfl

m

flflff

43W

m

4»

439

A41

450

4C4 »4it 4842

403

p ^

GBW

usa

13M

I1S4

lOM

IMM

tJOl

uao

1M4

130«

lev 798; ii3tm

KOI

S4

Bi»hp.-it outj by Cy. Bound

»fl3

32fl

447

3m

aw

s«

ami

333

430

49f»

aat STO 4110

3ld

AMical* Hiih-»tr«t, ditto ,
L*^«ihalt»t.. E. 1. HauMs

423
B5J

423
423

417

4*f

405

445

a!7!»
5«3

ai9
»a5

*fl9

405
4tii

4l>r

fian

331, m&

4S7 418.

S£

m

., n

Eattcheap- ^Jy Phnpot'lAoe

335

346

30fl

37a

37EI

3ta

**

*»

39H

343

s»4' lis'

4ita

Ml

,3 4

To*t/-»treel» by Mwlt-Urte

Jffl»

usar

»S

171

ai»

33*

sifKp;

SWS

MS!

MtW

ie4 114

a£)u

^

[, 3tl

L, ThamHHfti by Bololph^U

SB

la)

I7fl

KB

ifa

hHl

11a

147

m

131

m 411

l3Wi

1J5

.. .11

BUrk/HttTi Bridge

327

.^1

aifl

5J0

4/t;^ ifiKi

.■ws

410

m

54fi

«33 337

SsZfa; 4»lf

Atig.l

U.Tftaniies-Jt., i-mrof Qo.-tt

14W

ssr?

1G5

«23

aos ifflj

Ift*

31 a

2b5

mt

J76 K*

S.13I

JM4

.12

STnHhflf^Jd Bail .

ao3

san

SII3

«77

«7fi 2M

.tM

tw?

jm

fm

JSH 15f»

3hKU

SW

.. 3

FeDjchuTch-itreet .

»je

a®

s^

3^

S£0 aw

a?^

327

304

i»

»4IJ^ 545

3e*f

310

tisTfi

fl757

liios

iioaa

1140110163

noes

113»1

13M3

1134^

97fi7l7fl37 Wiaw|i«fflf

lOJ^DON LABOUR AND THB LONDON POOR.

288

TRAFFIC.

CERTAIN THOROUOHFABBS WITHIN THB CITT OP LONDON, BETWEEN THB
DATS DURING THE TEAR 1850.

Hour tmd\tig

Hour endinB

Hour ending Hour ending

Hour ending;

Hour eodinf

Hour ending

Hour enduig

If^.K

flF.M.

ar.Ji

4p*ii.

5r.M

Kp.u

7p.«

a P.I*.

Vehld

»

Vehiclw

Vchlclei

VeUiele*

VehiclM

Vchicki

Vehicles

Vehidf*

drimi

b^

drawQ by

drawn &y

draum by

drawn by

dnwa

by

drawn

by

drawn by

li 5

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1^

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rt H

4m\ %m

419

£»^

IS

5:^)

SJ]

lu, *1C

%-q. 4

470

2M

t3

435 ain

17

3£9

Sftt

8

4«to' 108

11

a 15.11 im

4as: 15B

13

m

1^

1;* if?ir

, lO}, 7

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fii

as

330 HI

4

015

20!J

17

2is, la

If

$^y' 250

^

IW

4

my

531

7

2S«

£43

1

375

2^

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ma

2»>

4

3;iii

21 1-

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314 f 209

4

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an

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5*5

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337

12(3

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a

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141 40

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7

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5^fl

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© 575

330

5

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5(15 310

m

455

344

3

W2 ssa

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lU

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tin

4

lft4

H'T

3, 215

VSi 4

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las

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177

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ec7i

iOll

175|ai.%a4£0

133

STREET TRAFFIC.
TABLB SHOWING THE TOTAL NUMBER OF EACH DESCRIPTION OP YBHICLB
PASSING THROUGH CERTAIN STREETS WITHIN THB CITT OF LONDON, BB-
TWEBN THE HQUES OF 6 am. AND S km. (12 Houaa.)

Total Numhar of

Arenge Niunbet

Date.

Skumtioa.

VehLdfadr^wnby

Tout of
the

per Hcrur*

II

j

fe

11

5

^

Average
of the

L

whule.

h

whale.

X

si

zs

a

«s

r^U ^ 01

9*

_«y

mh July, 1S50.

Temple Bar Gate * . . . .

5035

3490

2(10

7741

410

200

17

645

Hoi bom Hill, by St. Andrew'i Church

m*

17W7

135

0900

414

]4d

11

575

l<Hh „

LtiditfttcHIO. by Piltfrimitn-et .
Newgate siTCctt by Old Bahey .
Aldtnujftte-itrfHet^ lijr rnim-ktreet

4259

34m

a?

etaw

354

307

7

50&

urn " ;

44m

i?a5

00

0375

373

1411

e

m

l2tH .. ,»

1!IEIH

47»

12t

3590

IfQ

4^1

10

ms

I3th ,.

CbeAp«l<]i.-', by Potter tone .

71W

375*4

153

11053

im

310

If

921

10th ,, ',

Pioultiy. bY Mansion Houie
PUitburv Pavement, by Jionth pUep .
Coinhilfi try Hoyal EKchange
ThTeadneedlc^tTeet . .

eaaa

3H0»

132

loa74

ma

;tat3

10

850

uih ^ ;

S^H

l4fi«

go

4460

343

131

8

371

17th "

27B1

3074

01

4010

330

1^2

7

4itt

l»h " p

]£30

m

37

3150

JJW

40

3

179

l&th '„ ,,

Cr*n?cbunh >t., by Si. Pclcyt^alley .

35«5 : 1223

150

4*W7

2i>J

l(l3

13

ffl

**h „ „

Lombtiird-jfcinKtj by Dirchin-lane

S019 J95

J4

9m

1««

10

1

185

22r*«i M

BLfthopsgate >t., by Grtai SL Helen'i .

327*1 1477

ia

4843

273

123

i

403

«3«i ;.

Loiiddu UritlBe

9351 ' ^89

3£9

I3r)93

773

asf

30

loai

24th M ,,

Bbhopsgatt^kt., outr hy City Baundr.
AldipiteHlphiiTi*!, ditto

Tjmi ^ 1273

00

4110

230

1(10

5

34a

*iLh „ „

3!22» \ i:m

154

4754

2(3)

114

IS

330

S«th „ „

Lr*ilenhall-nrwt. Ka*t rudia Hou« .

.TS70 IIUI

lis

65130

3:10

153

10

4M

^11^ ri

i£e»tchf«p, by rhll|ioE.-lRne

34m 4t^

157

4103

mi

38

13

341

29tli p, ,,

Tower-itrect, by MarH-lane

S410 am

J 115

2«ao

201

30

a

340

30Ul ,, „

l-owt-r Thamp* «t.. by Dotol|ih-lane .

11117 1 Ifli

41

1380

W

11

3

115

31i£ >i »*

BLackftiiirt BrL^i^e . . . , .

4139 iGS

199

&m

344

7M

iti

438

2tid ,. 1,

tJpiwr T hamra iU , reai of gufieo-u. ,
Smlthlielrt Ban , , , , .

1750 42S
MM3 IS3

'%

2331
3100

237

:i5

10

12
0

2.VJ

3rd ;; ;;

PrachUfch-ttreet . , - , .

3U50 i 018

74

3C43

254

43

H

31^

aooi

34608

S880

139853

7358

am

m

iWWli

284

LONDOJr^ LABOUR A2fB THE LONDON POOR,

the refuse of the lole mxuuniiig materiab, rix.,
tbote of an eariky kind, and oot of whidi are
made our bricki, our earthenware and poredaia,
a« well ZB oar glaM, platter, and atone com-
moditiei. What becomea of ail thete materiak
when the articles nadt of them are no looger fit
for lue ? The old glasi ia, lika the old mefeil, rt-
melted and made into new commoditiet ; lome
broken bottles are used for the taps of walls as a
protection against trespasser! ; and the old bricks,
when sonnd, are employed again for inferior brick-
work; bat what becMBSS sf the rest of the
earthen materials — ^the imseoad bricks er ** bats,"
the old phuter and moitar, the wfiss sktea and
tiles and ehinmej-pots^ the bn^Len pans^ and
dishes, and other credit— in a word, the pot-
sherds and pansheids*, as the mbbish-carteis call
them — what is done with these)

But rubbish, as we hare seen, consists not only
of refase earthen commodities, bat of refose earth
itself: such as the soil remored during ezcaTs-
tions for the fonndations of bouses, for the cuttings
of railwars, the IsTelling of roads, the formation
of psrlcj, the laying down of pipes or drain^ and
the sinking of welb. For each and all of these
operations there is necessarily a certain quantity
of soil rcmoyed, and the question that natnrslly
occurs to the mind* is, what is done with itt

Thero is, moreorer, a third kind of rubbish,
which, though haying an animal origin, consists
chiefly of earthr matter, and that is the shells of
oysters, and other shell-6sh. Whence go they,
since those shells are of a comparatively indestruct-
ible nature, and thousands of such tish are con-
sumed annually in the metropolis 1 What, the
inquirer asks, becomes of the refuse bony coyer-
ings of such fish ]

Let us first, however, endeavour to estimate
what quantity of each of these three kinds of
rubbish is annually produced in London, begin-
ning with the refuue earthen commodities.

There is no published account of the quantity
cf crochri/irarc annually manufactured in this
country. Mr. McCulloch tells us, "It is esti-
mated, that the value of the various sorts of
earthenware produced at the potteries may
amount to about 1,700,000/. or 1,800,000/. a
year; and that the earthenware produced at
Worcester, Derby, and other parts of the country,
may amount to about 850,000/. or more, making the
whole value of the manufacture 2,550,000/. or
2,050,000/. a year." What proportion of this
quantity may full to the share of the metropolis,
and what proportion of the whole may be annnally
destroyed, I know of no means of judging. We
must therefore go some other way to work in
order to arrive at the required information. Now,
it has been before shown, that the quantity of
" dust," or dry refuse from houses, annually col-
lected, amounU to 900,000 tons or chaldrons
yearly ; and I find, on inquiry at the principal
" ytada," that the average quantity of Potsherds

* This U the Saxon actard, which mcins a sheard,
rcinnnni, ir fragment, and is from the verb Keran, tlg-
nifyiiK both to iihcAr and to nhareor divide. The low
Dutch tchtiard u a piece of pot, a fragment.

and broken crockery is at the rate of about half
a bushel to every load of dust, or my 1 per cent
oot of the entire qoantity collected. At other
yards, I find the propertion of sherds to be about
the same, so that we may fiurly aMome that the
gnm qoantity of brekca sartkenware produced
in London is in round numbsm 9000 loads or
tons per annum. The sherds run about 250
pieew te the bushd, snd HSiiiwiiig every five of
sock pieem to be the remains of an entise artide,
there would be in each bushel the fioigments of
fifty earthenware vesseii; mid tl» the total
qumititjr of erockeiy ware destroyed yearly in the
metropolis will amount te 18/K)0,000 tssosIs.

As te th« quantity of frcAM* Mdb^ the number
annually produced, which is bstwssn 1^00,000,000
snd 2,000,000,000, will give us no knowledge
of the quantity yearly convwted ioto rubbiu.
In order to afrive at this, we anut asoertain the
number of houses pulled down in the comae of
the twelvemoath ; and I find, by the Betnms of
the Begistrar-Genend, that the buildings remeyed
between 1841 and 1851 have been as follows :-^

DECBBAflB ni TnB Nuxinu of Houa»
TniouGHous LovDoa bstweut 1841 axd
1851.

Total

Annual

Deeieaaein

A\«ffago

10 Vcan.

Decrease.

8t, Martin's .

116

11-6

St James's, Westminster .

ISO

130

St Giles's

181

181

Strand . . . .

889

8S-9

Holbom . . . .

80

8-6

Bast London .

11

1-1

West London .

265

26-5

London, City of

692

5y-2

Whitcchapel .

2

.o

St Saviour's, South wurk

4G

4 G

St Olave's

153

15-8

Total

1976

lyr-o

Thus, then, we perceive that there have been,
open an avenge, very nearly 200 houses annually
palled down in London within the last ten yeart,
and I find, on inquiry among those who are
likely to be the best-informed on such matters,
that each house so pulled down will yield from
40 to 50 loads of rubbish ; so that, altogether, the
quantity of refuse bricks, dates, tiles, chimney-
pots, &c., annually produced in London must
be no less than 8000 loads.

But the above estimate refen only to those
houses which have been palled down and never
rebuilt; so that, in order to arrive at the gross
quantity of this kind of rubbish yearly produced
in the metropolis, we must add to the preceding
amount the quantity accruing firomsuch houses as are
pulled down and built up again, or newly fronted
and repaired, which are by fer the greater number.
These, I find, may be estimated at between 5
and 10 per cent of the gross number of houses in

LOyi>ON LABOUR AND THB LONDOBT POOR.

the metropolis. In some quarters (the older parts
of London, for instanee,) the proportion is mnch
higher, while in the suburbs, or newer districts, it
is scarcely half per cent. Each of the houses so
new-fronted or repaint maj be said to yield, on
an average, 10 loads of nxbbish, and, at this rate,
the yearly quantity of refuse bricks, mortar, &c.,
proceeding from snch a fouite, will be 150,000
loads per annum; so that the total amount of
rubbish produced in London by the demolition
and reparation of houses wooM i^peir to be about
160,000 loads yearly.

The quantity of reAns oyifltr didU may easily
be found by the number of oyitscv amraafly sold
in Fillingsgate-market Thesr, ham the letoms
which I obtained from fhe mmrket sriesmen, and
printed at p. 68 of the first Tolmne of this work,
appear to be, in round numbers, 500,000,000^; and,
calculating that one-third of this* qoandtj is sent
into the country, the total number of shells
remaining in the metropolis may be estfanaled at
about 650,000,000. Beckoning, then, that 500
shells go to the bushel (the actaal number was
found experimentally to be between 525 and 550),
and consequently that 20,000 are contained in
erery load, we may conclude that the gross quan-
tity of refuse oyster shells annuallj placed in
Loudon average somewhere about 80,000 loads.
That this is an approximation to the true quantity
there can be little doubt, for, on inquiry at one of
the largest dust-yards, I was informed by the hill-
mnn that the quantity of oyster-shells collected
with the refuse dust from houses in the vichnity
of Shoreditch, Whitechapel, and other localities at
the east-end of the metropolis, averages 6 bushels
to the load of dust ; about the west-end, however,
half a bushel or a bushel to each load is the ave*
rage ratio ; while from the City there is none, the
house "dust" there being free ftwn oyster-shells.
In taking one district, however, with another, I
am assured that the average may be safely com-
puted at 2 bushels of oyster-shells to every 8 loads
of dust; hence, as the gross amount of house-dust
is equal to 900,000 tons or loads per annum, the
quantity of refuse oyster-shells collected yearly by
the dustmen may be taken at 15,000 loads. But,
besides these, there is the quantity got rid of by
the costermongers, which seldom or never appear
in the dust-bins. The costers sell about 124,000,000
oysters per annum, and thus the extra quantity of
shells resulting from these means woold be about
12,400 loads; so that the gross qoantity of refuse

oyster-shells aetuallj produced in London may be
said to average between 25,000 and 30^000 loads
{SET amram.

There still remains the qosntity of rffuae
earth to be calculated; tins may be estimated as
follows >^

1. Foundationt qf Hotaa. — Baeli house that
Is built requires the ground to be excavated from
two to three yards deep, thv aveiage area of each
being about nine yards square^ This gives be-
tween 160 and 200 cubic yaida of evtk removed
from ttie fonndsnon of eaehr house. A cwlc yard
of earth is a load, so that there are between 100
Mid 200 loads of earth: disphwed is the bvildfaig
of eterj new house.

The following stalenmnt shows —

Tbs NnxBBk OF HoosBS Bmu thbovohout
1841 AMfr 18i51.

West Districts .
North Districta .
Central Districts
Bast DistricU .
South Districts .

Total

Total Na

of HesMv

built in 10

Years.

9,624

13,778

349

8,848
14,807

46,901

A-venge

Na of

Houies

ttuHt per

Year.

962-4

1877-8

84*9

884-8
1480-7

46901

Hence, estimating the number of new houses
built yearly in the metropolis at 4500, the total
quantity of earth removed for the foundations of
the buildings throughout London woidd be 800,000
loads per annum.

2. 27i€ CtUtuigM iif Ratlwayt,—The railways
formed within the arsa of the metropolis during
the Inst ten years have been — the QreaX Northern ;
the Camden Town, and^ow ; the West India
Docks and Bow; and the North Kent Lines.
The extension of the Southampton Bailway
from Vauxhall to Waterloo-bridge, as weU as
the Bichmond Line, has also been formed within
the same period, but for these no cuttings have
been made.

The Bailway Cuttings made within the area of
the Metropolis Proper during the last ten years
have been to the following extent :-^

Length of
Cutting.

Width of Cttitlng^

Depth of
Cutting.

Quantity of

BillWATS.

At top.

At bottom.

nuth Rrawved*

Great Northers
Gamden Town and Bow .
West India Docks and Bow
North Kent . . • .

Miles.
2

Ysvds.
12
12
15
15

Yards.
10
10
10
10

Yards.
10
10
12
12

Lowis.

290,400
290,400
528,000
528,000

Hence, the gross quantity of earth removed from I been 1,636,800 loads, or say, in round nnmben,
nilway cuttings withia the last tsn yeaa has | 160,000 loads pes annimi.

286

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

8. Tfu Cutting <^ Roadt and Streett.—lLe-
cording to a Betarn presented to Parliament, there
were 200 miles of new ttreeta formed within the
metropolitan police district between the years
1889-49 ; but in the formation of these no earth
has been taken awaj; on the contrary a con-
siderable quantity has been required for their
construction. In the case of the lowering of
Holbom-hill, that which was remoyed from the
top was used to fill up the hollow.

4. TKe Formation qf Parkt, — The only park
that has been constructed during the last ten
years in the metropolis is Victoria Park, at the
east end of the town ; bat I am informed that, in
the course of the works there, no earth was
carted away, the soil which was remoTed from
one part being used for the lerelling of another.

5. Pipe and Sewer Worh.— The earth dis-
placed in the course of thest operations is
usually put back into the ground whence it
was taken, excepting in the formation of
some new sewer, and then a certain proportion
has to be carted away. Upon inquiry among
those who are likely to be best informed, I am
auured that 1000 loads may be token as the
quantity carted away in the course of the last year.

6. Well'tinHng. — In this there has been but
little done. Those who are best informed assure
me that within the last ten years no such works
of any magnitude haye been executed.

The account as to the quantity of rubbish re-
moyed in London, then, stands thus : —

Rtfuge Earthen Materials. per Annum.

Pouherds and Pansherds . . 9,000
Old bricks, tiles, sLites, mortar, &c. . 160,000
Oyster-shells .... 25,000

R^use Earth.

Foundations of houses .
Kail way cuttings .
Pipe and sewer layyu^ .

800,000

160,000

1,000

1,155,000

Thus, then, we perceive that the gross quantity
of rubbish that has to be annually remoyed
throughout the metropolis is upwards of 1,000,000
loads per annum.

Now what is done with the ynst amount of
refuse matter] Whither is it carried ] How is it
disposed of]

The rubbish from the house huilding or remov-
ing is of no value to the master carter, and is shot
gratuitously wherever there is the privilege of
shooting it ; this privilege, however, is very often
usurped. Great quantities used to be shot in
what were, until these last eight years. Bishop
Bonner's Fields, but now Victoria Park. At the
present time this sort of rubbish is often slily
deposited in localities generally known as " the
ruins," being places from which houses, and indeed
streets, have been removed, and the sites left bare
and vacant.

But the main localities for the deposition of this
kind of refuse are in the fields round about the
metropolis. Each particular district appears to have

its own special " shoot,** as it is called, for mb-
bish, of which the following are the principal.

R}ihbish shooU.

The rubbish of Eensiaiton and Chelsea is shot
in the Pottery Gronnoiand Kensington-fields.
The rubbish of St George's Hanover-square,
Marylebone, and Paddington, is shot in the
fields about Notting-hill and Kilbum.
The rubbish of Westiyinster, Strand, Holbom,
St. Martin's, St. Giles's, St. James's, Wes^
minster, West London, and Southwark, is
shot in Cnbitt's fields at MUlbank and West-
minster improvements.
The rubbish of Hampstead is shot in the fields

at back of Haverstock-hill.
The rubbish of Saint Pancrms is shot in the

Copenhagen-fields.
The rubbish «f Islington, Clerkenwell, and St.
Luke's, is shot in the Kagle Wharf-road and
Shepherdess-fields.
The rubbish of Bast London and City is shot

in the Haggerstone-fields.

The rubbish of Whiiechapel, St George's in the

Bast, and Stepney, is shot in Stepney fields.

The mbbish of Hackney, Bethnal-green, and

Shoreditch, is shot in the Bonkers-pond,

Hackney-road.

The rubbish of Poplar is shot in the fields at

back of New Town, Poplar.
The rubbish of Bermondsey is shot in the

Bermondsey fields.
The rubbish of Newington, Camberwell, and
Lambeth, is shot in Walworth-common and
Kennington-fields.
The rubbish of Wandsworth is shot in Pottert-

hole, Wandsworth-common.
The rubbish of Greenwich and Lewisham is

shot in Russia-common, near Lewisham.
The rubbish of Rotherhithe is used for ballast
The quantity of rubbish annually shot in each
of the above-mentioned localities appears to range
from 5000 up to as high as 30,000 and 40,000 loads.
Of the earth removed in forming the founda-
tion of new houses, between one-fourth and one-
sixth of the whole is used to make the gardens at
the back, and the bed of the roads in front of
them, while the entire quantity of the soil dis-
placed in the execution of the "cuttings" of rail-
ways is carted away in the trucks of the company
to form embankments in other places. Hence
there would appear to be about from 160,000 to
200,000 loads of refuse bricks, potsherds, pan-
sherds, and oyster- shells, and about 600,000
loads of refuse earth deposited every year in the
fields or "shoots" in the vicinity of the metropolis.
The refuse earth displaced in forming the foun-
dations of houses is generally carted away by the
builders' men, so that it is principally the refuse
bricks, &c, that the rubbish-carters are engaged
in removing; these they usually carry to the
shoots already indicated, or to such other localities
where the hard core may be needed for forming
the foundation of roads, or the rubbish be re-
quired for certain other purposes.

The principal use to which the ** rubbish** is put

LONDON LABOUR AND THB LONDON POOR.

287

if for lerelling, when the hollow part of any
newly-made road hai to be filled np, or garden or
lawn ground has to be levelled for a new numsion.
Bnbbish, at one timtf, was in demand for the bal-
lasting of small coastixf Tessels. For such bal-
ksting 2d. a ton has to M paid to the corporation
of the Trinity House. This rubbish has been
used, but sometimes surreptitiously, for ballast,
unmixed with other things. It is, howerer, light
and inferior ballast, and occupies more space than
the gravel ballast from the bed of the Thames.
1^ Suppose that a collier requires ballast to the
extent of 60 tons; if house rubbish be used it
will occupy the hold to a greater height by about
10 inches than would the ballast derived from the
bed of the Thames. The Thames ballast is sup-
plied at If. a ton ; the rubbish-ballast, however,
was only Zd. to 6^. a ton, but nov it is seldom
used unless to mix with manure, ivbich might be
cdnsidered too wet and soft, and likely to fwment
on the voyage to a degree unpleasant even to the
mariners used to such freights. The rubbish, I
am told, checks the fermentation, and gives
consistency to the manure.

I am assured by a tradesman, who ships a con-
iidemble quantity of stable manure collected from
the difierent mews of the metropolis, that com-
paratirely little rubbish is now used for ballast
(unless m the way I have stated) ; even for
mixing, but a few tons a week are required up
and down the riyer, and perhaps a small quantity
from the wharfs on the several canals. Nothing
was erer paid for the use of this rubbish as ballast,
the carters being well satisfied to have the privilege
of shooting it Two of the principal shoots by
the river side were at Bell-wharf, Shadwell, and
off Wapping-street. The rubbish of Rotherhithe,
it will be seen, is mainly ** shot " as ballast.

The " hvHLcov^ is readily got rid of; some-
times it is shot gratuitously (or merely with a
■mall gratuity for beer to the men) ; but if it have
to be carted three or four miles, it is from 2«. 6<2. to
8s. a load. This is used for the foundations of
houses, the groundwork of roads, and other pur-
poses where a hard substratum is required. The
hard-core on a new road is usually about nine
inches deep. There are on an average 20 miles
of streets, 15 yards wide, formed annually in
London. Hence there would be upwards of
100,000 loads of hard-core required for this
purpose alone. Where the soil is of a gravelly
nature, but little hard rubbish is needed. Oyster-
shells did form a much greater portion than they
do now of Uie hard suhatratum of roads. Bight
or nine yeirs ago the costermongers could sell
their oyster-shells for 6c2. a bushel Now they
cannot, or do not, sell them at all; and the law not
only forbids their deposit in any place whatever,
but forbids their being scattered in the streets,
under a penalty of 5/. But as the same law
provides no place where these shells may be
' deposited, the costermongers are in what one of
them described to me as "a quandary." One man,
who with his wife kept two stalls in Tottenham
Court-road, one for fish (fresh and dried) and
for shell-fish, and the other for fruit and Tage-

tables, told me that he gave Vone of those poor
long-legged fellows who were neither men nor
boys, and who were always starving and hang-
ing about for a two-penny job, two-pence to carry
away a hamper-full of shells and get rid of them
as he best could. 0, where he put them, sir,"
said the man, " I don't know, I wouldn't know ;
and I shouldn't have mentioned it to you, only
I saw you last winter and know you're in-
quiring for an honest purpose."

Another costermonger who has a large barrow
of oysters and musses, and sometimes of " wet
fish" near King^s-cross, and at the junction of
Leather-Ume with Back-hill, Hatton-garden, was
more communicative : " If you 11 walk on with
me, sir," he said, "V\X show you where they're
shot Yon may mention my name if you like, sir ; I

don't care a d for the crushers ; not a blessed

d ." He accordingly conducted me to a place

which seemed adapted for the special purpose. At
the foot of Saffiron-hill and the adjacent streets
runs the Fleet-ditch, now a branch of the common
sewers ; not covered over as in other parts, but
open, noisome, and, as the dark water flows on,
throwing up a sickening stench. The ditch is in-
differendy fenced, so that any one with a little
precaution may throw what he pleases into it.
"There, sir," said my companion, *' there's the
place where more oyster-shells is thrown than
anywhere in London. They're thrown in in
the dark." Assuredly the great share of blame if
not to those who avail themselves of such placet
for illegal purposes, but to those who leave such
filthy receptacles available. The scattered oyster-
shells along all the approaches, on both sides, to
this part of the open Fleet-ditch, evince the um
that is made of it in violation of the law. Many
of the costers, however, keep the shells by them
till they amount to several bushels, and then give
the rubbish-carters a Ibw pence to dispose of
them for them.

Sonjte of the costermongeAjfliaain, obtain leave to
deposit their oyster-shelU in the dustmen's yards,
where quantities may be seen whitening the dingy
dust-heaps, and a laive quantity are collected with
the house-dust and ashes, together with the broken
crockery from the dust-bins of the several houses.
i;he oyster-shells are carted away with the pan-
sherds, &C., for the purposes I have mentioned.

I now come to deal with the rubbish-carters,
that is to say, with the labourers engaged in the
removal of the " hard " species of refuse; of which
we have seen there are between 160,000 and
200,000 loads annually carted away ; the refuse
earth, or " soft dirt," being generally removed by
the builders' men, and the Mips, crockery ware,
&c, by the dustmen, when collecting the dust
from the " bins " of the several bouses.

The master jRk^&uA- Carters are those who keep
carts and horses to be hired for carting away
the old materials when houses or walls are pulled
down. They are also occasionally engaged in
carrying away the soil or mbbish thrown* up
from the foundations of buildings ; the excava-
tions ofi^ocks, canals, and sewers ; the digging

288

LONDON LABOUR ANJ> THE LONDON POOR.

of arteiian wells, &c. This seems to comprise
what in this carrying t>r removing tnde is ac-
counted « rubbish.**

Perhaps not one of these tradesmen is solely
a mbbish-carter, for they are likewise the carters
of new materials for the use of builders, such as
lime, bricks, stone, gravel, slates, timber, iron-
work, chimney-pieces, &c. Some of them are
public carmen ; licensed carmen if they work, or
ply, in the City ; but beyond the City bonndnries
no licence is necessary. This complication per-
plexes the inquiry, but I purpose to confine it, as
mnch as possible, to the rubbish-carters proper,
having defined what may be understood by
"rubbish." These carters ore also employed in
digginff, plek-azing, &c., at the buildings, the
rubbish of which they are engaged to remove.

Among the conveyors of rubbish are no dis-
tinctions as to the kind. Any of them will one
week cart old bricks from a house which has been
pulled down, and the next week be busy in re-
moving the soil excavated where the foundations
and celburs of a new mansion have been dug.

Prom inquiries made in each of the diffisrent
districts of the metropolis, there appear to bo
from 140 to 150 tradesmen who, with the carting
of bricks, lime, and other bnilding commo-
dities, add also that of mbbish-corting. These
"masters" among them find employment for 840
labouring men, some of whom I find to have been
in the servico of the same employer upwards of
20 yean.

The Pot^Office Directory, under the head of
rubbish-carters, gives the names of only 35 of the
principal masters, of whom several are marked as
scavagers, dust-contractors, nightmen, and road-
contractors. The occupation abstract of the
census, on the other hand, totally ignores the
existence of any such chiss of workmen, masters
as well as operatives. I find, however, by actual
visitation and inqtiiry in each of the metropolitan
districts, and thus learning the names of the
several masters as well as the number of men in
their employment, that there may be said to be,
in round numbers, 150 master mbbish-carters,
employing among them 840 operatives throughout
London.

A large proportion of this number of labouring
men, however, are casual hands, who have been
taken on when the trade \^'as busy during the
summer (which is the the "brisk season" of
rubbish-cartage), and who arc discharged in the
slack time ; during which period they obtain jobs
at dust-carting or scavaging, or some such out-
door employment. Among the employers there
are scarcely any who are purely rubbish-carters,
the large majority consisting of dust and road-
contractors, carmen, dairymen, and persons who
have two or three horses and carts at their dis-
posal. Wbi-n a master builder or bricklayer
obtains a contract, he hires horses and carts to
take away any rubbish which may previously
have boon dejKisited. The contract of the King's
Cross Tcnniiiua of the Great Northern Kail way,
for ir.stanct', hns been undertaken by Mr. W.
Jay, tho builder ; and, not having sufficient con-

veyances to cart the rubbish away, he has hired
horses and carts of others to assist in the removal
of it. The same mode it adopted in other parts
of the metropolis, where taa improvements are
going on. The owners of horses and carts let
them out to hire at from 7#. for one horse, to lis,
for two per day. I^ however, the job be no-
usually large, the master rubbish-carters often
take it by contract themselves.

Although the operaiive rnbbuh<art^n may be
classed amon^ unsldlled labourers, they are, per-
haps, less miscellaneous, as a body, than other
classes of open-air workers. Before they can
obtain work of the best description it is necessary
that they should have some knowledge of the.
management of a horse in the drawing of a loaded
carriage, or of tho way in which the animal
should be groomed and tended in the stable. I
was told by as experienced carman, that he, or
any one with fiir less than his experience, could
in a moment detect, merely by the mode in which
a man would put the harness on a horse and yoke
him to the cart, whether he was likely to prove
a master of his craft in that line or not Hy
informant had noticed, more especially many yean
ago, when labotur was not so abundlantly obtain-
able as it was last year, that men out of work
would offer him their services as carmen even if
they had never handled a whip in their lives, as
if little more were wanted than to walk by tlie
hone's side. An experienced carter knows how
to ease and direct the animal when heavily bur-
dened, or when the road is rugged ; and I am
assured' by the same informant, that he had known
one of his horses more fiitigued after traversing a
dozen miles with a "yokel" (as ho called him),
or an incompetent man, than the animal had been
after a fifteen miles' journey with the same load
under the care of a careful and judicious driver.
This knowledge of the management of a horse is
most essential when men are employed to work
" single-handed," or have confided to them singly
a horse and cart; when they work in gangs it is
not insisted upon, except as regards the " car-
man," or the man having charge of tho horso or
the team.

The master rubbish -cartera gencmlly are more
particular than they used to be as to t!ie men
to whom they commit the care of their horses.
It may be easy enough to learn to drive a
hone and cart, but a casual labourer will now
hardly get emplojinent in rubbish-carting of a
"good sort" unless he has attained that preli-
minary knowledge. The foreman of one of the
principal contractors said to me, *' It wouIJ never
do to let a man learn his business by practisinj? on
our horses." I mention this to show, thnt nlthnujrb
rubbish-carting is to be classed among unskilled
labours, some training is nocossar}'.

I am informed that one-third of tho working
rubbish-cartcra have been rubbiah-cart'»rs from
their youth, or cart, car, or waggou-drivora, for
they all seem to have known changes ; or they
have been used to the care of horses in the capacity
of ostlers, stable-men, helpera, coachine-iun por-
ters, coachmen, grooms, and horse-Lreakors. Of

LOS^DOy LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

289

the remainder, one-hoir, I am informed, have
" had a turn" at such aTocations as scavtigery,
bricklayers' labouring, dock work, railway ex-
cavating, night work, and the many toils to
whkU such men resort iu their struggles to
obtain bread, whateTer may have been their
onu:inal occupation, whicb is rarely that of an
artiz:in. The other, and what may be called
the greater half of the remaining number, is com-
postMi of agricultural labourers who were rubbish-
carters in the country, and of the many men
who have had the c^ire of horses and vehicles
in the provinces, and who have sought the me-
tropolis, depending iipou their thews and aiuews
for a livelihood, as porters, or ciirroen, or labourers
in almost any capacity. The most of these men
at the plough, the harrow, the manure-c-.irt, the
hay and corn harvests, have been practised carters
and horse drivers before they sought the expected
gold iu the streets of London. Full a third of
the whole body of rubbish-carters are Irishmen,
who iu Ireland were small &rmer«, or cottiers, or
agricultural labourers, or boluuged to some of the
chisses I have dtfscribed.

The mechanics among rubbish-carters I heard
estimated, by men with equal neans of inferxua-
tion, as one in twenty and one in fifteen. Among
these quondam mechanics were more farriers,
cart and wheel wrights, than of other classes.

It seems to be regarded as an indispensable
thing that workini;^ rubbish-carters should have
one quality — bodily strength. I am told that one
employer, who died a few weeks ago, used to say
to any applicant for work, **l\'% no use asking
for it, if you wish to keep it, unless you con lift
a horse up when he 's down."

As I have shown of the scavauers, &c., the
employers in rubbish-carting may be classed as
" honourable" and ** scurfs." The men do not
use the word " honourable,*' nor any equivalent
term, but speak of their masters, though with no
great distinctiveness, as being either "good," or
''ecurfs." As in other branches of unskilled la-
bour where there are no trade societies or general
trade regulations among the operatives, there are
few distinctixc appellations.

From the facts I have collected in connection
with this trade, it would appear that there are ISO
master rubbish-carters in the metropolis, about
140 of whom pay 1S<. or more per week as
wages, while the remaining 40 pay less than that
amount. The latter constitute what the men
term the scurf portion of the trade; so that the
honourable masters among the rubbish-carters may
bo said to comprise seven-ninths of the whole.

I will first treat of the circumstances, charac-
teristics, and wages of the m^n employed in the
honourable trade.

And first, as regards the divmon of labour
among the operative rubbish-carters, the work is as
simple as possible.

'1 here arc —

1. The RtiUiish-Curtcrs proper, or "carmen,"
who are engaged priucipaily in conveying the
refuse brick or earth to the several shoots.

2. The liubbish-iSJ^idUri, or ** gangers," who

are engaged principally u filling the cart with the
rubbish to be removed. Generally speaking, the
two oiiices are performed by the same individual,
who is both carter and shoveller, and it is only in
large works that the gangers are employed.

Master builders and others who require the aid
of rubbish-cnrten for the Mmonil of earth or
any other kind of rubbish from ground abont to
be built upon, or from old buildings about to be
repaired or pulled down, either hire horses, carts,
and carmen, by the day, of the master rubbish-
carters, or pay a certain price per load for the
removal of the rubbish. If the job be likely to
last some length of time, the builders pay the
masters so nmch per load for carting away the
rubbish; but if the job be only for a short period,
the horses, carts, and carmen are hired of the
masters fur the time. The price paid to the master
rubbish -carter ranges from 2s. 6:/. to 35. (kL per
lo:id for the removal of mbbish and bringing
back such bricks, lime, ar sand as may be required
for the building. The master rubbish- carter, in all
cjises, pays the men engaged in the removal of the
rubbish.

The operative rubbish-carters (except in a very
few insunces) never work in gangs, either in the
construction of new buildings or in old buildings
about to be pulled down or repired. In digi^ing
the foundations of new houses, the master builders,
or speculators, building upon their own ground
employ their own excavators, and engage rubbish-
carters to remove the refuse earth, the latter being
merely occupied in carting it away.

The principle of simple co-o|>oration or gang-
work occasionally prevails ; and, when this ii the
case, ^e gang is employed in shovelling and pick-
ing, while the czinunn, as the shovellers throw
out the rubbish, fills or shovels the rubbish iuto
the cart.

Each rubbish-carter will, on an average, cofnvey
away from two to five lojids a day, according to
the dikUmce he has to take ic Calculating 850
men to remove four loads per diem for live
months in a year, the gross quantity of rubbish
annually removed would be very nearly 826,000
loads.

In the regular trade the hours of daily labour
arc twelve, or from six to six ; but the men are
allowed half an hour for breakfast, an hour for
dinner, and half an hour for tea, and almost in-
vaiiably leave at half-past five, so postponing the
"tea" half-hour until after the termination of
their work. In winter the hours are genenilly
** between the lights," but on very hhort, daik, or
foirgy day*, lanterns are used. The men em-
ployed by one firm ** often made up, ' I was told
by o^ie of them, " for lost linn*, by blu»velling by
nioonli.!ht." The carman, however, has to get to
his stable in the summer at four o'clock in the
morning, and to tend his horse after he has done
work at night ; so that the u^ual hours of labour
with him are fifteen and sixteon per day, as well
as Sunday-work.

The rubbish-carters are ijaid bi/ On; Kith, 18.-*. to
20s. being the weekly amount; and by th^. load,
which is indeed piece-work. The payment to the

Ko. XLIII.

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^t-rv. Ifiiigiit f n<«p, nnrl tliriu{;ii they br iii){rit in
lf«« trmn ftupiii'ir aniinan ihey vrerv «aii(fr ki-pt;
wliil«? if ]«■•< w«*r#' <'arii«"l hy ih** p-if-ci^-work with
mi'Ji liorM-ii, :<'iii{ wai |iaid in wn'/es : aiiii if the
hoi'.'f lifrk" its I'-:;, or w;iJi killed, or iiijiiieil, it
wa* iiriif* <-.'t'ily r-|i'iic''(i. TKifl iiiodf of eiii)iloy-
iii"rit ii, .14 J iiu'.i' ff-iid, ii'fii and 1<'S« cnrrird into
fff'Tt ; bii'- it i< hMll oil" of the wnyii in wliith
a W'irl-.iiri iHTVr may Ix' inadt* a »ufF>'rcr, WcauKC
n priiiri]ia' at'r<'ii-ary of hiii work - -tie horii'— may
jKit iv r:i]i:i\i\t' nt ihi' n-fjulnit"' «'X«Tti'iii.

'J'/i' i't,i.,ii,ii/ vto/. . fif thi' nmbiih rart'T^ in
the l*«'Ht iiii,.l«iy ar<! Jiiiri IH... v> «"<, a wt-ck ; in
th" wir-i" |riiil Ira'li" 1 r»^. i-* l!i" lu'irc iicn'Til
jti'in- ; liiit even m liltlf aji ]'1m. is ^\\cu hy some
liia^t'M.i.

77.f ml mi/ ir,n/t.'< an- I hi- K'lnw a* thi* noiniiial
ill th" hoiiMiirahli* tmie, with tlie addition of
prrqiii^itcif ill liiMT t" tho men of from Ix. to 2x.
wo'Kiy, and of " fnMliiitfn," •'ninrially to thi-
cariiiiii, of an amount I could nut aM-ertain, but
|)iTha|)«i n'alixin^' <)'/. a wri'k. ^)iic caiiuaii put
ail hi* fuiind on om- nuU'. to buy ]i»'w ycar'n clnthra
fur bin iliildri'n. and on ih'w ycnr'ii (*vf hi^t ymr
he h;id "ISx. Oh/., " nioni'V, and what bniuylit
inoiii'T ; " but thin in far fnun an usuid case.

Tin* rail' of wa^i'it paid to the opi-rative ruh-
biifhcartcn tlirou^rbout t)u> diiVfrnit districts of
London, I find, by iiujuirina in <>arh locality, to
b(> by nti mean* uniform. For instance, at
llampntcad tin* waifcM are unexceptional ly )l{.)f.
piT \vri*k; while at KeiiMinjrton, (Mii'Uca, and
indeed the wh«ile of the went districts of Lon-
dnii, they an* ]i<s. weekly: in St. Martin's
paiinh, liowevor, \\i*. a wM'k is paid by two
niast.Ts. Ill tht> north diatricU ajiain, 19.^ a
week in Benernlly |aid : with the exceptiim of
IlanipNtrad. v^heie the weekly wages for the $!ime
hibiiur nrv an hii;h m 20.<., and Islington, where
they are an low as 1(U In the central districts,
too. the waited ari" ueiu-mUy 18.*.: the lower rate
of 17.<. and l(j«. per week betzig paid in certain

•■ - V : ::i :» a:-: *x:**:-"-r» :. is n**. In
- .-.T-J.T. : -.:.-. : f * *i*:.-r. i>:r-.::*. *u^n a*

.v.*;r.iT. >> !.-€ 'Zr. z went arpean t*^ be the
f '.^ rJ.-: . ... - .-. "Lr* -.:■::. a-.: I : ?.r Iv. if pi:i
*::.: .:* : r J.. :'' ■ ni*>r«. 7:.. *-:.:r.*rr. -i *ir ca of i" e
--<rrj 3.-:r ■::".- sr* «: ia ./ irreju-ar in la-ir nm o:

. :.*.- V.'. :-..?. :•* icnir ^rrkiT su:-. -*::- ■ r.-? exc.p-
:; .r.. War. :*.or;3. or. iLe '-:!vr ra .d. \-»\§

orT. V .

T. ■-. ;- ::; 5 '.111 :; ark. I>^rn:.-n.:«- y,
N'*A:r^:o. a:.i ».'.- "■-^rwe:;. the Traces pkiii by
all are i::^. Ir. Lairxlxta ai L.uch a« K*«. is
IT v^Ti by ivn n-ajt'Ti o'j: or I'r.rr??: xvIieriM?, in
Orrenvica o.'ie n;a«:er jays 14^.. ar.ii the other
fvj-n »is l>Tk- at 12'. a wrrk. Wr.eii I c^nie to
tr«-a: 'ff t;ie i>->wer-p:d imdt, I f'n.xV. explain the
cau^t'-f of :he above difference as t^zhtc* wasea.

Tije analysis of l.'je facts I have c-nlecied on
thi4 feuuiect is as fu'.lovs: — Uut of ISO ma»ters^
employing among triem S40 men, there are —

Waives

per
Week.

5 matten enploving 11 men, and paring 2i>«.

r> „ „' 30 „ '., 1?*.

127 „ „ G05 ,, „ IS,.

6 ,. „ 20 „ „ 17/.
16 „ ^ 70 „ „ 16*.
19 ,, „ 'j7 „ ,. Iw.

1 „ „ 5 „ ,. 14.«.

1 •'I *^i

H'^ncp, three-fuirllis of the operatives may be
said to receive 16^r. wccklv, and ab'jut onu-sixth

Tf't' pti'/ii'n'f'is in this trad- are more in beer
than ill money, nor arc they derirod from the
employer-*, unless oxooptionally. Tht-y are iriveii
to the rubbish carters by tlie owners of the pre-
mises where tliey work, and may, in the best
trade, amo-mt. in beer or in money to buy beer, to
from lit. Cd. to '2j(. weekly per man. The other
perquisites are what is found in the digiiin^f of
the rubbish for the carts and in the sh<»oting
of it. As in other ti-ades of a not dissimilar
character, there appears to be no fixed rule as
to "treasure trove." One man told me that in
(I'ggii^g or shovelling each man kept wiital he
found; another said the men drank it. Any-
thing found, however, when the cart is omplieJ
is the pi'rquisite of the carman. *' Iz'i luck as is
everything ;'' said one carman. " There was a mate
of mine as hadn't not uo belter work nor me,
once found an old silver coin, likcabad half-crown,,
as a gen'hnaii he knowed pave him live good
shilliiii^ f<ir, and he found a silver spoon as itched
la. VU., in one we«'k, and that snme week on the
same ground / got nothing but five bad ha'pennies.
I once Worked in the City where the Sun office
now is, just by the llall of Commerce in Thread
needle-street, and something was fomid in the
Hall as now is; it was a French church once;
and an old gent gave us on the sly ];f. a day for
beer, to show bim or tell him of anything we

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOJt.

298

turned np qneer. We did show lum thiugs as
Wf thought queer, nnd thej looked queer, but he
ail'us Siiid ' Chi-isli/ or * da-amii.' From uhnt
I 're hoard him say to another old cove as some-
times %vns with him, thor looked for sometliing
Unman Catholic." My informant no doubt meant
" Eomnu/' as in dij^ng the foundations of the
Hall of Commerce a tesaeUted Roman pavement
wa^ found at a great depth.

Among these workmen arc no Tixute SocUtUs,
no liturjit (tr SicL-Civls, and, indeed, no measures
\v'}jatc\er for the uphcUJing of accustomed wn^es,
or ]»roviding ** for a rainy day," unless individu-
ally. If a rubbish-carter be sick, the men in the
soiiie employ, whatever their number, ]0 or 40,
contribute on the Saturday ercuings 6d. each,
towards his support, until the patient's conva-
lescence. There are no lionses of Call.

TIm* paymcRt t* in the waster's yard on the
Saturday evening, and always in money. There
are no drawl)ackft, unless for any period during
the houra of regular labour, wlien a man may
have been absent from hi:* work. Fines there are
none, except in large ei>tiblishment3 among the
carmen where many horse.^ are kept, and then, if
a mnii do pot keep his re«;ular stable-hours in the
mornings, especially the Sunday mornings, he is
fined 6'/. These fines arc speiit by the carmen
generally, and most frei^uently in beer.

The vsual iray of apf,li/ing for troi'l- is to call
at the yards or premises, or, more frequently, to
take a round in the districts where it is known
that buildings or excavations are being carried on,
to inquire of the men if a hand be wanted.
Sometimes n foreman may be there who has
authority to "put on" new Innds; if not, the
applicant, with the prospect of an engagement in
view, calls lipon any party he may be directed to.
Several men told me that when they were engaged
nothing was said about character. The employers
seem to be much influenced by the applicant's
appearance.

I must now give a brief description of the
nibbiith- carter, and the scene of his labours.

Any one who observes, and does not merely
tee, the labour of the rubbish-carter, will have
been btruck with the stolid indifference with which
these men go about their work, however much
the scene of their labours, from its historical asso-
ciations, may interest the better informed, ^o it
was when the rubbish carters were employed in
removing Uie ruins of the old Houses of Parlia-
ment, and of that portion of the Tower which
suffered from the ravages of the fire; and so it
would be if they were directed to-morrow to
commence the demolition and rubbish- carting of
'Westminster Abbey, the Temple Church, or St
Paul's, even in their present integrity.

Sometimes the scene of the rubbish-carter's
indostry presents what may be call -d a *' piteous
aspect.*' This was not long ago the cise in
Gannon-street, City, and the adjacent courts and
alleys ; when the houses had been cleared of their
furniture, the windows were removed (giving the
house what may be styled a " blind" look); most
of the doora bad been taken away, as well as aome

of the floors. Large cyphers, scrawled in white-
wash on the walls and woodwork, intimated the
difFerent "lots," and all spoke of desertion; the
only moving thing to be seen, perhap.% was some
flapping paper, torn from the sides of a room and
which flutiered in the wind.

A sci'ne of exceeding bustle follows the ap*
parent desolateness of the premises. When the
whole has been disposed of to the several pur*
chasers, the further and fin»l work of demolition
begins, baskets filled with the old bricks are
rapidly lowered by ropes and pulleys into the carts
below, it behig the carter's business to empty
them, and then up the empty b«tskets are drawn,
as if by a single jerk. The sound of the hammer
used in removing and separating the old bricks of
the building, the less frequent sound of the pick-
axe, the rumble of the stones and bricks into the
cart, th'.* noise of the pulleys, the shouts of the
I men aloft, crying " be-low there !'* the half-arti-
I culate cxclamationa of the carters choked with
I dust, form a curious medley of noises. The atmo-
, sphere is usually a cloud of dust, which sticka to -
j the men's hair like powder. The premises are
; boarded round, and it adjoining a thoroughf^ire
I the boards are closely fitted, to prevent the cuhoos
; nnd the loiterers obstructing the current of pas-
I sengers. The work within is confined to the
I labourers; " no persons ailmitted except ou bus!-
: ness " seems a rule rigidly enforced. The only
I men inside who appear idle are the over-lookers,
, or surveyors. They stand with their hands in their
breeches' pockets ; and a stranger to the business
might account them uninterested spectators, bal
. for the directions they occasionally give, now
, quietly, and now snappishly; while the Irishmen
' show an excessive degree of activity, the assump-
\ tion of which never deceives an overlooker.

From twelve to one is the customary dinner-

I hour, nnd then all is quiet On visiting some

' new buildings at Maida-hill, I found seven men,

I out of nbimt 30, all fast asleep in the nooks and

j comers of the piles of bricks and rubbish, the day

being fine. The others were eating their dinners

at the public-houses or at their own homes.

I In the progress of pulling down, the work of

removal goes on very rapidly where a strong force

is employed— the number varying from about

twelve to 30 men. A f »ur-storied house is often

pulled down to its basement, and the contents of the

I walls, floors, & c, removed, in ten days or a fortnight

As the work of demolition goes on, the rubbish-

I carter loads the cart with the old bricks, mortar,

I and refase which the labourers have dispUiced.

In tome places, where a number of bnildings ia

I being removed at tlie same time, an inclined plane

\ or road is formed by the rubbish-carters, up and

j down which the horses and vehicles can proceed.

! Until such means of carriage have been employed,

I the rubbish from the interior foundation is often

I shot in a mound within the premises, and carried

' off when the way has been formed, excepting such

\ portion as may be retained for any purpose.

In hot weather, many of the rubbish-carters in
the fisir trade work in their shirts, & broad woollen
bslt being strapped rouad the waist» wUcb, they

29^

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

ny, lupporU "the miEll of the back" in their
freqnent^ bending and stooping. Some wear
woollen 'night-capf at this work when there is
much dust ; and nearly all the men in the ho-
nourable trade wear the "strong men's" half-
boots, laced up in the front, as the best protectors
of the feet from the intrusion of rubbish.

In the cold weather, the rubbish-carter's work-
ing dress is usually a suit of strong drab-white
fustian. The suit^mprises a jacket with two
large pockets. TlWcost of such a suit, new, at a
sIop-tailor*8, is from 28«. to 35«. ; from a good
shop, and of better materials, 405. to 565. Some
prefer stout corduroy to fustian trowsers; and
some work in short smock-frocks.

Having thus shown the nature of the work,
the class of men employed, and the amount of re-
muneration, I proceed to describe the characteristics
of the rubbish-carters employed by the honourable
masters; I will then describe the state of the
labourers who are auually rather than constantly
employed ; and finally speak of the condition and
habits of the lower-paid workers under the cheap
masters.

The Ahility to Head and WriU.— I think I
heard of fewer instances of defective education
among the rubbish-carters than among other
classes of unskilled labourers. The number of
men who could read and not write, I found com-
puted at about one-half. It appean that the
children of these men are very generally sent to
school, which is certainly a healthful sign as to
the desire of the parents to do justice to their
offspring. As among other classes, I met with
uneducated men who had exaggerated notions
of ihe advantages of the capability of reading
and writing, and men who possessed such capa-
bility representing it as a worthless acquirement.

The majority/ of the Rahlinh-taHcrs in the
honourable trade are, I am informed, really
viajTitd .lien, and have fiimilies ** born in lawful
wedlock." One decent and intelligent man, to
whom I was referred, said (his wife being present
and confirming his statement) : ** I don't know
how it is, sir, but they sny one scabbed shet'p
will afl'ect a flock." *' Uh ! it 's dreadful," said the
wife ; " but some way it seems to run in places.
Now, we've lived among people much in our own
way of life in Clerltenwell, and Pentonville, and
Taddington. Well, we've reason to believe, that
there wasn't much living together unmarried in
Clerkenwell or Pentonville, but a goodish deal in
Faddington. I don't know why, for they seemed
to live one with another, just as men do with their
wives. But if there 's daughters, sir, as is grow-
ing up and gets to know it, as they re like enough
to do, ain't it a bad example? Yes, indeed,"
said the wife, "and I'm told they call going
together in that b«id way — they ought nil to be
punished — without ever entering a church or
chapel, getting 'ready married."' I inquired if
they wore not perhaps married quietly at the
Kegistrar's ollice { " O, that," said Mrs B— ,
" ain't like being married at all. / would never
have consented to such a way, but I'm pretty
certain they don't as much as do that No, sir," (in

answer to another inquiry), " I hope, and think,
it ain't so bad among young couples as it was, but
iu bad enough as it is, God he knows." The
proportions of Wedlock and Concubinage I could
not learn, for the woman, I was assured, always
took the man's name; and both man and woman,
unless in their cups or their quarrels, declared
they were man and wife, only there was no good
in wasting money to get their "marriage lines"
all for no use.

Tht Poliiic* of Ou rubhithrcai-ters are, I am
assured by some of the best informed among
them, of no fixity, or principle, or inclination
whatever, as regards one-half of the entire body;
and that the other half, whether ignorant or not,
are Chartists, the Irish generally excepted; and
they, I understood, as I had learned on previous
occasions, had no political opinions, unless such as
were entertained by their priests. Strong, rude,
and ignorant as many of these carters are, I am
told that few of them took part in any public
manifestation of opinion, or in any disturbance,
unless they were out of work. " I think I know
them well," one of their body said to me, *' and
as long as they have pretty middling of work,
it '11 take a very great thing indeed to move 'em.
If they was longish out of work and felt a pinch,
very likely they'd be found ready for anything."

With i-€Mpeel to Free Trade, 1 am told that these
men sometimes discuss it, and formerly discussed it
far more frequently among themselves, but that
it was not above one in a dozen, and of tlic better
sort only, who cared to talk about it either now
or then. There seems no doubt that the uiajoritj*,
whether they understand its principles and wot Ic-
ing or not, are favourable to it ; I may 8;iy, from
all I could learn, that the t/rcat majority are. I
! heard of one rubbish-carter, formerly a small
farmer, who left London for some other t-nipKij'-
ment, in the spring, contending, and taking pains
to enforce his conviction, tiiat Free Trade would
ruin the best interests of rubbish-carters, as vtnir
by year there would be more agricultural labourers
resorting to the great towns to look for buch
work as rubbish-carting, for every farmer would
employ more Irish labourers at his own terms,
and even the Ss. a week, the extent of the earn-
ings of the agricultural labourers in some parishes,
would be undersold by the Irish. Last winter,
lie said, very many countrymen came to London,
and would do so the next, and more and more
every year, and so make labour cheaper.

As far as I could extend my inquiries and
observations, this man's arguments — although I
cannot say I heard any one offer to controvert
them — were not considered sound, nor his facts
fully establisheti. There were certainly great
numbers of good hands out of employment last
winter, and many new applicants for work ; '* but
buildings," I was told by a carman, "are of course
always slacker carried on in the winter. Nuw,
this year, so far (beginning of October), inings
seem to promibe pretty well iu our busine&5, and
so if it's good thid winter and was bad the last,
why, as there's the tame Free Traide, it seems as
if it had nothing to do with it. There 'a not so

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

295

much building going on now as there wai a few
years ago, but txado '• steadier, I think."

Other rubbish-carters, in the best trade, said
that they had found little difference for six or
eight years, only as bread was cheaper or dearer ;
and, if Free Trade made bread cheap, no man
ought to say a word against it, " no matter about
anything else." Of course I give these opinions
as they came to me.

Aii to Food, these labourers, when in full work,
generally live what they consider well; that is,
they eat meat and have beer to their meals every
day. Three of them told me that they could not
sny what their living cost separately, as they took
all their meals at home with their families, their
wives hiying out the money. One couple had six
children, and the husband said they cost him
about 17^. a week in food, or about 2s. 6d. per
head, reckoning a pint of beer a day for himself,
and not including the youngest, which was an
infant nt the breast. The ifather earned 229.
wcrkly, and the eldest child, a boy, 3^. 6d. a
week for carrying out and collecting the papers for
a news'-ngent The wife could earn nothing,
aithongh an excellent washerwoman, the cares of
her family occupying her whole time. She always
had " the cold shivers," she said, " if ever she
thouglit of John's being out of work, but he was
a steady man, and had been pretty fortunate."
If these men were engaged on a job at any
distance, they sometimes breakfasted before start-
ing, or carried bread and butter with them, and
eat it to a pint of coffee if near enough to a coffee-
shop, but in some places they were not near
enough. Their dinners they carried with them,
generally cold meat and bread, in a basin covered
with a plate, a handkerchief being tied round it
so as to keep the plate iirin and afford a hold to
the bearer. " It *8 not always, you see, sir," said
a rubbish-carter, "that there's a butcher's shop
near enough to run to and buy a bit of steak and
get it dressed at a tap-room fire, just for buying a
pint of beer, and have a knife and fork, and a
plate, and salt found you iriCo the bargain, and
pepj)er and mustard too, if you *11 give the girl or
the man Id. a week or so. But we 're glad to get
a good ci.'Kl dinner. 0, as to beer, it would be a
queer out-of-the-way place indeed where a landlord
didn't send out a man to a building with beer."
One single man, who told me he was only a small
cater, gave me the following as his dailt/ bill of
fare, as he rarely took any meals at his lodgings :

s. d.
Half-quartern loaf . . . . 0 2J

Butter 0 1

Coffee (twice a day) . . . .03
Eleven o'clock beer, sometimes a pint and
sometimes half-a-pint, but often obtained
as a perquisite . . (average) 0 1^

^ lb. of beef steak, or a chop, or four or
five pennyworth of cold meat from a
cook-shop . . . (average) 0 5

Potatoes 0 1

Dinner beer 0 2

Bread and cheese and beer for supper . ^0 4_

1 8i

This was the average cost of his daily food,
while on Sundays he generally paid Is. 6d. for
break&st and to&, and a good dinner off a hot
joint with baked potatoes from the oven, along with
the family and other lodgers. He had a good
walk every Sunday morning, he said, but liked to
sleep away the afternoon. He found his own
Sunday beer, costing id. dinner and supper, but
he didn't eat anything at supper, as he wasn't
inclined after n.'sting all day, and so his weekly
expenses in food were : —

s. d.
Six working days, at Is. %\d. a day 10 \\
Sunday 1 10

Week's food . . . . 11 llj

To this, in the way of drink or luxuries, I might
add, the carter said, 2d. a day for gin (although
he wasn't a drinker and was very seldom tipsy),
" for I treat a friend to a quartern one day and
may-be he stands treat the next." Also Ad. for
Sunday gin, as he and the other men took a glass
just before dinner for an appetite, and he took one
after dinner to send him asleep. Add, too, 3(/. a
week for tobacco. In all !.<. 7<2., which swells
the weekly cost of eating, drinking, and smoking
to 13«. 6^cZ. His washing was Ad. a week (he
washed his working jacket and trowsers himself),
his rent 2«. 6(/. for a bed to himself; so that,
\Qs. A\d. being spent out of an earning of 18«.,
he had but \s. 5\d. a week left for his clothes,
shoes, &c. If he wanted a shilling or two for
anything, he said, he knocked off his Hupper, and
then nothing was allowed in his reckoning for
perquisites, so he might be 2s. in hand, at least 2s.,
every week in a regular way of living. This man
expressed his conviction that no man, who had
to work hard, could live at smaller co&t than he
did. That numbers of men did so. he admitted,
but he " couldn't make it out." The two ways of
living which I have described may be taken ns
the modes prevalent among this class of labourers,
who seek to live "comfortably." Others who
"rough it" live at less cost, dining, for instance,
off a pennyworth of pudding and half a pint
of beer.

I ascertained that among tlie rubbish-carters,
those mostfrtquently atttmlant on- ptfUic irorship
are thelnikRoitian (.-atholics, and such Englishmen
as had been agricultural labourers in rural parishes,
and had been reared in the habit of church-going ;
a habit in which, but not without many excep-
tions, they still persevere. Among London-bred
labourers such habits are ranily formed.

The abodes of the letter descnptioii qf rvhlnslv-
carters are not generally in those localities which
are crowded with the poor. They reside in the
streets off the Edge ware and Harrow-roads, as
building has been carried on to a very frreat ex-
tent in Westboume, Maida-hill, tStc. ; in PortUmd-
town, Camden-town, Somers-town, about King's-
cross ; in Islington, Pentonville, and Clerkenwell ;
off the Commercial and Mile-end-roads; in
Walworth, Camber well, Kennington, and New-
ington; and, indeed, in all the quarters where
building has been prosecuted on an extensive

296

LONDON LABOUR AND TEE LONDON POOR.

tcnie. I iv-ni in aonie of thrir npnrtmentt, and '
found them tid\- and comfnrubli-iookiii;;: one was ,
especially go. Some stone-fruit on tlie mnntel-
thelf shone ns if newly pftint(?d, and the fender \
and firi'-irons glittered In.ni their brightness to
the fire of the smnll prate. The hnsluind. how-
ever, wns in jrood earnin;!s, and the wife cleared
about 5f. weekly on superior needlewr rk. There
was one thiiip painful to observe — the contrast
between the mhiiAt and Eun-bumt hnik uf the
iinshand, and the delicate nnd pallid, not to say
sickly, .'ip[H>arauce of the wife. The rents for
unfunuAhird .ipnrinients vary fnmi '2a. to 5«., but
rarifly the Intti-r, unK'ns the wife take in a little
waftiiin^. I heard of pome at 'If., 1 ut very few;
2i. (it/, to -Jit. f'tf. are common prices.

/ fi<iinl t:/ HO j.aiiiafitt//ur atuf.Mrin'nh amotiff
th€ rHthifh-corlti*, beyond wh-.tt my infurmmU
spoke of— a visit to the play. Home, I \ms told,
but principn'ly the younger men, ne%'er niiseed
going to a fiiir, which was not too fnr ot^'. I think
not quite one -half of those I spoke to, with the
best earnings, had been to the Kxhiliition. Of the
worst paid, I nm told, not one in TiO wfnt : one man
told nie that he hsid no amusements but his pipe
and his beer. Some of them, I was nsoured, diank
half a g:il]nn of berr in a d;ir. but at interxuls, so
as not to be intoxicated. "A hnn'i at cribl)nge"
is a favnunt«> public- iiouse game omoni; a few of
tbete men ; hut nut alwve one in half a-dozen, I
was assurfd. " knew the cards," aiid not one in two
dozen playid thi-m.

Th<»e, then, arc the characteristics of the
labiiurini; rubbish-carters employed in the honour-
able trail e.

A nne-li»r»kint; man, upward.^ of mx ffrt in
stature anil of proporiionat'' bulk, with so sninrc
a !k-t t'» hi.-» bushy whisk« rs. and a hx-k of § uch
general ti^Iinoss ^.iftcr h»' h;id !«?fi clT work in the
evening), tluit he niitiht lia\e been takrn f<»r a life-
guard>nuiii had it not bi*e:i for a » 11^ lit slouch of
the shoulder?, ami a very unmiliiary |:ait, gave
me till* Inllowinj: ;u;c<Mi:it : —

" 1 \\\ a Lmidon n'a:i," ho said, "and thouiih
I 'm not y«'t io, I 've k< pt mytelf for the la«t
live ytars. I 've wnrknl ai rubbishcjiriing and
goiieral j»ri.Mijil-work uiifj'-Miiif fur pipc-layinj:, \c..)
as we nearly all do, but ma'nly at rul'bi>h-cartinu,
and I "ui ai that now. My friends are in the
same liur, hi» 1 helped th«-m : I was big enough,
and was brought up that way. 0, yt!«, 1 can
road and wriie, but I haven't time, rr very
seldom, to narl anyihin-j hist a newnpap^T now
and a-.^ai:i. I 'm a carman now, and have
a very ijond master. I've perved him, more
or less, for three years. I have had -5.<. a week,
and I have liad 29.<., but that intlnded nvor-work.
Two hours extra work a day makes au exirn day
in tin* Week, you soe, sir. O, ye?, I might have
>av«'d money, and I 'in trying to ?avc 'Ibf. now to
see if I cant niise a horse and cart, and begin for
my f elf in a small way, general jnbbinif. I 've
been usi*d to cart mould, and gravel, and turf for
gentlemen's gardens, or whrn gardens have l)een
laid out in new building*, as well as rubbish, for
the same master. Last ywir I set to m-<irk in

hard earnest in the lame waj, and this is where

it is that always stops me. Mr. [his em

ploycr] is very busy now, and things look pretty
well about here [Onmdrn-townJ, but I don't
know how it is in other part«. It was the same
last year, but trade fell off in the winter, and I
was three months out of work. 0, that 's a
common case, especial with ycur.g men, for of
course the old hands has the preference. That's
where it is, you see, sir; it's a vnnrlain trade.
It's always that new shoes is wanted, but it
ain't always new houses. My money sll went,
' and then all my things went to the pawn, and
when I got faiily to work a^ain, I had a shirt
and a shilling lelt, nnd owed some little matters.
I 'd saved well on to 505., and could have gone on
saving, but for being thrown out. Then, when
you gt.'t into regular wages atrain, there 's yonr
! uncle to meet, and there's always something
: wanted — a p:iir of half-Loots, or a new shirt, or a
I new tool, or something : »o one loses heart about
it, and I can't abear not to appear respectable.

" I piiy 2x. a week for my lodging, but it 's
only for half a bed. The house is let out that
way to single men like me, so each bed brings in
4*. a week. There 's two beds in the room where
1 sleep; I don't know how many in all. Why,
yi*8, it's a n*spectable sort of a place, but I don't
much like it. Thi re 's plenty such phices ; some 's
decent and some's not. Oh, ccitainly, a place of
your own 'k Ite.'t, if it's ever so humble, but it
wouldn't suit a man like me. I may work one
week at Paddington, an<l the next at I'ow, and if
I had a furnished n)om at Faddinpt«in, what good
wcMild it he if I went to wrrk nt IJow ) (.)nly the
bnthtT and cxpinse of p-moving my sticks j-g-.iin
and again. (.», people that find lodLMUgi f • r Mjch
as mr, know that well em^ngh, and nsakes a j'ley
of UN. of ei-ur^e.

*• I take my meals at a public-house or a coree-
shop. O yes, I live well enough. I have meat
eviTy ray to t. inner : a n an like mo must keoj) up
hi* Mrenv'th, and you can't do that withi.nt «;ood
meat. It's all nonsense about vepelabVs and all
tliat. as if men's stoniarhs were like c«>w.s*. I
have 1 r-ad and butter and t' a or coffee ft)r hr ak-
tast nnd :oa, si.nirtimes a few crewes with it just
to sweeten the blood, which is the proper use of
veiietable."'. A pint of beer or so for supper, but
I di-n't care about supper, though now and then I
tike a bit of bread and cheese with a nice fre^h
onion to it. Weil, I 'm bure I can't s,iy what I
lay o»i: in my living in a week : sometin.es more
and tonioiinirs less. I ke» p no account ; I pay
my wj'.y as I go on. S»:mo weeks wht-n I get
my Saturday night's wage, I hiive from *2.i. 6'/. to
ft.*. C)d. left from last iSatnrday night's money, but
that's only when I've had nothing to l.ny out
beyond common. Now, last week 1 was 4.-. Of/,
to the good, and this week I shall be about the
ditto : but then I want a waistctat and a tilk
handkerchief for my neck for Sunday wear ; so I
! must draw im my Saturday night. There's a
gentleman tJikes care of my money forme, .ind I

i carry him what 1 have over in a week, and he
takes care of it for me. I did a good deal of

LONDOy LABOUR AKD THIS LOKDON^ POOR.

2$7

work about his houees—fae has a block of them —
nnd his own place, and I 've gardened for him ;
aiid from what I 've heard, my money 's safer with
him than with a Savings* Bank. When I want to
dmw he likes to be satisfied wbat it*s for, and
he '• lent me as much as 88«. in different loms,
when I was hard up. He 's what I call « real
gentleman. He says if I ever go to him tipsy to
draw, and says it <<inite solemn like, he 11 take
mc liy the scruff of the neck and kick me out ;
though [laughing] be cnn't be much above five
foot, and has gray bain, and seems a feeble sort
of a man, 1 mean of a gentleman. He enters all
I pay in a book. Here it it, sir, for this year, if
you 'd like to see it I wasn't able to put anything
by for a goodisb bit. I lost my book mice, btft 1

knew how much, and so did Mr. ,-Bnd be put

it down in a lump.

£ 9. d.

July 18

In hand

.13 0

25

Received .

.086

Aug. 9

t*

.086

23 .

n

.050

Sept. 13

it

.096

20 .

.040

27 .

1» •

.040

£2 12 6

"If I can't save a little to start m\^f t}n when
I "m a sinste man, I can't ever alter, I £mcy ; so
I 'm a trj-iug.

" No, ray expenses, over and above my living
and lodging and washing, and all that, aiu'tkeavy.
Yes, I 'm very fond of a good pky, very. Some
galleries is 6d^ aud some 2d ; but then there *s
refreshment and that, fco it cosu 1«. a time. Per-
haps I go once a week, but only in autumn and
winter, when nights get long, and we leave work
at bnif-past fire. The last time 1 was at ttie play
was at the Marylebone, but there was some o^iera
pieces that don't suit me ; sucli stuff and nonsense.
I like something very lively, or else a deep
tragedy. Sadler's Wells is the place, sir. I
m^n to go there t')-jnorrow night. Yes, I'm
very fond «f the paHtoraimes. Concerts I've been
at, but don't care for them. They 're as dear at
2d. as an egg a penny, and an egg 's only a bile.

" Well, I 've gone' to church sometimes, but a
carman hasn't time, for he has his horses to attend
to on Sunday mornings, and that uses sip his morn-
ing. No, I never go now. Work mu6t be dooe.
It ain't my fault. I 'm sure, if I could have my
wish, I 'd never do anything on a Sanday.

" Yes, there 's far too many as undersells as in
work. I know that, but I don't like to think
about them or to talk about them." [He seemed
desirous to ignore the very existt^ce of the scurf
rubbish-carters.] ** Tbey 're Irifh many of them.
They 're often qoarreltome and blood-thirsty, but
I know many deoent men among the Irishmen in
our gangs. There 's good and bad among them,
as there is among the English. There 's very few
of the Irish that are carmen ; they havea^ ben
mach used to hones.

** I bave done a litde at a nightman whtn I

worked for Mr. . He was a parish cmi-

trnctor, and undertook nch jobs, and liked to put
strong men on to them. I didn't like it. I can't
think it 's a healthy trade. I can't say, but I
beard it represented, that in this particular calling
there was a great deal of undercontracting going
on when the railway nndertakhigH generally re-
ceived a severe check, and when a great number
of hands "were thrown out of employment, and
sought employment in rubbish-carting generally,
and apart from rail way -work. These bands euf-
fered greatly for a long time. The tomrny-shops
■and the middle-man system were enough to
swallow the largest amount of railway wnges, so
that very few had wcrcd. money, and they were
willing to work for very low WKgn. A good
many of these people went to endeavour to find
work at the large new docks being erected at
Great Grimsby, near Boston, in Lincolnshire.
Some of the more prudent were able to raise the
means of emigrating, and from one canse or other
the pressure of this snrplus labour among rub-
bish-carters and excavators, as regards the me-
tropolis, became relieved."

Or Casual Labour lar Gbhrral, akd that of

THE HuBBISH-CaRTERS TR PARTICULAR.

The subject of casual labour is one of such vast
importance in connection with the welfare of a
nation and its people, and one of which tbe causes
as well as consequences seem to be so utterly
ignored by economical writers and unheeded by the
public, tliat I purpose here saying a lew words upon
the matter in general, with the view of enabling
the reader the better to understand the difBculties
that almost all unskilled and many skilled
labourers have to contend with in tliis country.

By catual labour I mean such labour as can
obtain only occasional as contradistinguished from
constant employment. In this definition I include
all classes of workers, literate and illiicrate, skilled
and unskilled, whose professions, trades, or callings
expose tliem to be employed temporarily rather
than continuously, and whose incomes are in a con-
sequent degree fluctuating, casual, and uncertain.

In no country in the world is there such an
extent, and at the same time such a diversity,
of casual labour as in Great Britain. This is
nttribuublc to many causes — commercial and agri-
cultural, natural and artificial, conironable and
uncontrollable.

I will first show what are the causes of casual
labour, and then point out its effects.

The causes t>f casual labour may be grouped
under two heads : —

I. The iii-isk and Slack Seasons, and Fit
Times, or periodical increase and decrease of work
in certain occupations.

II. Tk€ JSwrj)lus Hands appertaining to ihc dif-
ferent trades.

Pint, as to the briskness er slackaets of en-
pioynient in difierent occupations. This depends
in different tcmdes on difierent flrases^mmong wbieh
may be enumerated —

A. Tbewcatber.

293

LOSDOS LABOUR AXD TEE LOXOOy POOR.

B. The seasons of the year. |

(J. The fashion of ihe'day.
D. Commerce and accidents:

I sha'l deal with each of these c:iuses ioia^i'w.

A. The labour of thousands is influenced by
the tr.-xfhir; it is suspended or prevented in many
instance's by stnrmy or riiinT weather; and in
some few in'etinces it is promoted by such a state
of thiiitfi.

Am mjt those whose lab'jur cannot be executed
on »rr< t/tiyji, or ext-cntcd but imperfectly, and
who are comequently dr-prived of their ordinary
iiK'ans of liviiiff on such days, are — paviuurs,
pipo-liyers, brick lay er#, painters of the exteriors
of h'liises fchtcrs, fishermen, watermen (plying
with thtfir ts-jais for hire), the crews of the rirer
steaniem, a Iar,;e body of agricultural labourers
^siich as hL-diftfr-i, ditchers, mowers, reapers,
plouili!ii^-n, tliarchers, and gardeners), coster-
mrtii'j'-rs and :i.l classes of strcct-seliers (to a great
dearei'i, Mnret- performers, and showmen.

Wiih rpi.nird to the decree in whicli agricultural
(i>r inl'.-.'d in this instance woodLind) labour may
bt; iiiHueiiCL-d by the weather, I may state that a
few yi-ars back there had been a fall of o:iks on an
csiat" itnlon^ing to Col. Cradock, near (ireLi-bridge,
antl the poor people, old men and women, in the
n<'iu!ilr>t:rhuud, were selected to strip otf the bark
for the tanners, under the direction of a person
appointed by the proprietor: fi)r this work they
were \).\\.\ by the b.ihket-load. The trees lay in an
open :in>l exp>i«ed situation, and the rain was so
ii:cc«.suit that the " barkers ' could scarcely do any
work f'<r the wh«»le of the fir<t week, but kept
wiiitiiij miihr tin* nfan-st »hi'lter in tin- hopes
that it v.diiM *' dear uj)."' In the tirsl werk of
thi-i em ploy merit nearly one-third "f the poor per-
sons, .\ no had comnicnted their work with eau'cr-
\\vi», ii.j'l to apply for some ti'jnporary uarochial
reljpt". A rather curious in.sUmce thi?, of a parish
8utfiTi::,{ from tlie casualty of a very humble
lahioir. and actually from tlie attempt cf the poor
to <'arn money, and d-i work pn-pared f«»r them.

On ilie other hind, >ome few classes may be
Slid to h'- liMH-iited by the rain which is im-
jM)v»'ri-!iin;f iith'-r.-*: these are cabmen (who are
the l.ii-:"Si on ah^i.r. y,/ days), scavairers, umhrella-
mak -I-. «i«»u' and patien-maker.'. 1 was told by
thf i»iinil):i"j pi'')])le that their vehicles tilled belter
in li'i: t .an in wot weather.

But til" labour of thousands is influenced also
by til.; -'ind: an easterly wind prevailing; fi»r a
few days will throw out of employment 20,000
dock labourer.-} and others who arc dependent on
the shipping fi»r their craployniiMit; &uch as lump-
ers, corn-porters, timber-porters, ship-builders, sail-
nijikers, li'^htennen, watermen, and, indeed, almost
all those who arc known as "loni^-shoremm. The
same htate of things prevails at Hull, Bristol,
Livrr|i'i(il, ;ind all our larcre ports.

i'Vf.A7,a^ain,i.s equally inimical to some labourers'
interi'sts; the frozen-out market-gardeners are
familiar to almost every one, and indeed all those
who are cncai^ed upon the land may be said to be
deprived of work by severely cold weather.

In the weathe.' alone, then, we find a means of
starving thousands of onr people. Rain, wind,
and frost are many a labourer's natural enemief,
and to those who are fully aware of the influence
of "the elements" upon the living and c^mfirts
of hundreds of their fellow-creatures, the changes
of weather are frequently watched with a terrible
interest I am convinced that, alf^gether, a wet
day deprives not less than 100,000, and probably
nearer 200,0u0 people, including builder.*, brick-
layers, and agricultural labourers, of their ordi-
nar}' means of subsistence, and drives the fame
number to the pubiic-honsos and beer-shops ion
this part of the subject I have collected some
curious facts); thus not only decreasing their in-
come, but positively increasing their expenditure,
and that, perhaps, in the worst of w.iys.

Nor can there be fewer dependent on the
winds for their bre.id. If we think of the vast
number employed either directly or indirectly at
the various ports of this country, and then remem-
ber that at each of these places the prevalence of
a particular wind must prevent the ordinary arri-
val of shipping, and so require the employment
of fewer hands: we shall have some idea of
the enormous multitude of men in this coun-
try who can be starved by *'a nipping and an
eager air." If in London alone there are 20,0o>)
people deprived of food by the prevalence of an
easterly wind (and 1 had the calculation from one
of the principal officers of the St. Katheriue Dock
Company), surely it will not be too much to say
that throughout the country there are not less
than 50,0U0 people whose living is thus pre-
cariously dependent.

Altoirether lam inclined to believe. that we shall
not be over the truth if we ass-^rt tiii-ro are
between in0,0ui» and 20i»,iHM.t individuals ani
their families, or h.alf a miilion of peoplt*, dep n-
dent on the elements for their support in this
country.

But this calculation refers to those classes only
who are deprived of a ceruiin number of tiii.\i'
work by an alteration of the weatiier. a cause
that is essentialiy > i-hnv.ral in its character. The
other series of natural events inlluencinii the
demand for labour in this country are of a m ire
ro«<M* '/o fix nature - the stimulus and the de-.-res-
sion endurinij for weeks rather than days. I allude
to the f-ronU of the four circumstances above-
mentioned as inducing briskness or hlackiicss of
employment in different occupations, viz. : —

B. The seasons.

These are the seasons of the year, and not the
arbitrary seasons of fashion, of which I shall spe.ik
next.

The following classes are among those expti«ed
to the nnceruiinty of employment, and conse-
quently of income, from the above cause. si::co
it is only in particular seasons that particular
works, such as buildings, will be undertaken, or
that open-air pleasure excursions will be attempted :
carpenters, builders, brickmakers, painters, plas-
terers, paper-hangers, rubbish-carters, sweeps, and
riggers and lumpers, the latter depending mainly

THE MILKMAID'S GARLAND.
The Orioixal op the Sweep's Mat-Day Exhidition.

LOSTDOy LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

209

on the Rrmal of the tnnber thipi to die Thames
(snd this, owing to the ice in the Baltic Sea and
in the river St. Lawrence, &c., takes place onlj at
certain seasons of the year), coal-whippers and
eoal-porters (the coal trade being moch brisker
in winter), market-porters, and those employed
in Slimmer in steam-boat, railway, van, and barge
excursions.

Then there are the casnalties attending agricuU
tunil laboar, for, although the operations of natare
are regular "even as the seed time follows the
harrest," there is, almost invariably, a smaller
employment of labour af^r the completion of
the haymaking, the sheep-shearing, and the grain-
reaping labours.

For the hay and com harvests it is well known
that there is a periodical immigration of Irishmen
and women, who clamour for the catwU employ-
mont; others, again, leave the towns for the same
purpose ; the samo result takes place also in the
fruit and pea-picking season for the London green-
narketa; while in the winter such people retmn
tome to their own country, aiKi some to form a
large proportion of the casual class in the metro-
polis. A tall Irishman of about 34 or 35 (whom
I had to see when treating of the religion of the
street Irish) leaves his accustomed crossing- sweep-
ing at all or most of the seasons I have men-
tioned, and retui'ns to it for the winter at the
end of October; while his wife and children are
then so many units to add to the casualties of the
street sale of apples, iiuis, and onions, by over-
stocking the open-air markets.

The nutumnal season of hop-picking is the grand
rendezvous for the vagrancy of England and Ire-
land, the stream of London vagrancy flowing freely
into Kent at that period, and afterwards flowing
back with increased volume. Men, women, and
children are attpiicted to the hop hanest. The
season is over in less than a month, iind then the
casual lab(»urers engaged in it (and they are
nearly all casual labourers) must divert their in-
dustry, or their endeavours for a liring, into other
channels, swelling the amount of casiudty in nn-
skilled work or street-tnide.

Numerically to estimate the influence of the
seasons on the libour-murket of this country is
almost an overwhelming task. Let as try, how-
ever : there are in round numbers one million
agricultural labourers in this country; saying that
in the summer four labourers are employed for
every three in the wiater, there would he 250,000
people and their families, or say 1,000,000 of
individuals, deprived of their ordinary subsistence
in the winter time; this, of course, does not
include those who come from Ireland to assist
at the harvest-getting — how many these may be
I have no means of ascertiining. Added to these
there are the natural vagabonds, whom I have
before estimated at another hundred thousand
(see p. 408. voL i.), and who generally help at
tbe harvest work or the fruit or hop-picking.

Then there are the carpenters, who are 163.000
in number; the builders, 9200; the brickroakers«
18,000; the painters, 48,200; the coal-whippers,
9200; the coal-miners, 110,000; making altoge-

ther 350,000 people, and estimating that for every
four hands employed in the brisk season, there
are only three required in the slack, we have
80,000 more families, or 300,000 people, deprived
of their living by the casualty of labour ; so that
if we assert that there are, at the least, including
agricnltural labourers, 1,250,000 people thus de-
prived of their usual means of living, we shall not
be very wide of the tnitb.

The next cause of the briskness or slackness of
diflfereut employments is —

C. Fashion.

The London fashionable season is also the par-
liamentary season, and is the "briskest" from
about the end of February to the middle of July.

The workmen most affected by the aristocratic,
popular, or general fa8hii>n«, are —

Tailors, ladies' habit-makers, boot and shoe-
makers, hatters, glovers, milliners, dre«s-makcrs,
mantua-nmkers, drawn and straw bonnet-makers, |
artificial flower- makers, plumassiers, stay-makers, ;
silk and velvet weavers, saddlers, harness-makers, j
coach-builders, cabmen, job-coachmen, farriers, '
livery stable keepers, poulterers, pastry-cooks, con-
fectioners, &c., ^c.

The above-mentioned classes may be taken,
according to the Occupation Abstract of the last
Census, at between 500,000 and 600,000 ; and,
assuming the same ratio as to the diifercnce of
employment between the brisk and the sUck
seasons of the trades, or, in other words, that
25 per cent. Ub.) hands are required at the slack
than at the brisk time of these trades, we have
another 150,000 people, who, with their fiuuilies,
may be estinuited altogether at say 500,000, who
are thrown out of work at a certaiu season, and
havo to starve on as best they can for at leiist
three months in the year.

The last-mentioned of the onuses inducing
briskness or slackness of employment nre —

D. Commerce and Accidents.
Commerce has its periodical fits and starts.

The publishers, for instance, have their season,
generally from October to March, as people read
more in winter than in summer; and this arrange-
ment immediately effects the printers and book-
binders ; there is no change, however, as regards the
newspapers and periodicals. Again, the early im-
portation to tfaitt countrj' of the new foreign fruits
gives activity to the dock and wharf labourers and
porler:»and carmen. Thusthearrival here, generally
in autumn, of the nut, chestnut, and grape (raisin)
produce of Spsin ; of the almond crops in Portugal,
Spain, and Barbary; the date harvest in Morocco,
and different parts of Africa; the orange Gather-
ing in Madeira, and in St. Michael's, Terceira,
and other islands of the Azores; the fig harvest
from the Levant; the plum har>'e8t of the south
of France; the currant picking of Zante, Ithaca,
and otlter Ionian Islands; — all these events give an
activity, as new fruit is always most saleable, to
the traders in these southern productions; and
more shopmen, shop-porters, wharf labourers, and
as«istant lightermen are required — casually re-
quired— for the time.

1 was told by a grocer, with a country connee-

30) LOyiJOX LABOUR AXD THE LOXDOX POOR.

tion, and in n Iarff«* way of basineu, that for ' There are alio the conieqnences of chan^ of
thnv wi>ekji or a ni'inth before (Jhriitmas he re- i taite. The abandonment of the fashions of gen-
qujnvl ihf* aid of fnir fresh hands, a shopman, an | tlemen's wearing swords, as well as embroidered
' erniriil-boy, and two pnrceri (one »kill»'d in pack- i garments, flowing periwigs, large ihoe-bnckleSi
• iti^\, for whom hu had noihiiii; to do after Christ- . all reduced able artizans to poverty by depriving
■ in.iii. If in thi; widi* sweep of Lmdon trade there : them of work. So it was, when, to carry on
ho lOi'Mj ptirsuns, includin:; th*f market salesmen, j the \^'ar with France, Mr. Pitt introdaced a tax
tiie rctHil buU'hiTS. the carri>*rd. &c.. so circum- ■ on hair p)wder. Hundreds of bair-dressers were
; staiii'ed, then lOOU ni»^n arc '-"<'"{//y employed, | thrown out of employment, many persons abandon-
aiid f'lr a very brief time. j ing the fashion of wearing powder Mther than

Thi; brief increa^o of the carrying biisinoss sene- I piy the tax. There are now city gentlemen, who
r.illy aiiout Ohristmiii, by rond. water, or railway, • can n-member that when clerks, they had some-
is sutficiently iiidicateii by the forecfoins iiccount. I times to wait two or three hours for ''their tnm"
' Th*' employment, again, in the cottonand wodion | at a barber's shop on a Sunday morning; for they

manufacturin-.; district:) may be s lid to depend for ; could not go abroad until their hair was dressed
its briskness on commerce rattier than on the ' and powdered, and their queues trimmed to the
seasim^. due standard of fashion. So it has been, more-

AouflmtA, or extraordinary social events pro- over, in modern times in the substitution of silk
ino:e casual I.ibour and then depress it. (Jften ' for metal buttons, silk hats for stuff, and in the
they depresA without having promoted it. ' supersedence of one material of dress by another.

I)urin(^ t\w display of the (.rreat Kxhihition, [ These several causes, then, which could only
there were soine thousands employed in the dif- > exist in a community of great wealth and great
j fercnt capacities of poiice, ])ackmg, cleaning, pur- i poverty have rendered, and are continually reiider-
: ter.i};c, watciiini;, interpreting, donr-keeping and \ ing, the labour market uncertain and over-stocked;
i iiioney-takinir» cab-regulating. iV:c.: and after the I to what extent they do and have done this,
I riosc of the Exhibition how many were r<'t;iinL-d i ■ it if, of course, almost impossible to any pncitil^i ;
< Tliuij the Cfrcat Kxhil)iti<m fo»tered casual, or un- i but, even with the strongest disposition to avoid
I ccrt'iin labour. Foreign revoiutM)iis, moreover, i oxa:;ueration, we may assert that there are in this
I atfi'ct the tnido of Knuiand : Kpoeuiators become country no less than 125,000 families, or 5<)0,0i)0
timid and will not embark in tratle or in any people, who depend on the weather fur their food;
ppiposed undertaking; the foreiirn import and you.uOO families, or 1.250,000 people, who can
cxp-irt trader are iHiralysed; and fewer clerks obtain employm^'nt only at particular seasons;
and fewer lab«»urer3 are employed. Home poli- i 15(»,00u mon* families, or 500,00" people, whose
tical ngitatinns, also, iiave the same elFect ; as trade depends up(m the fashionable rather than
I was seen in London during the corn-law riots, i the natural reasons, are thrown out of work at the
alioMi '.',') yeirs au'») (whiMi nnly c-iffht nivmlwrs of " cessation of the brisk time of their business: .nnd,
th'.* House of ('ummnns supporti.' I a ciiaiiu'C in perhap*, another 15i.',0i»0 of families, or r»Ui\OO0
tiif's*' laws): the Spafn'M."* rioi:» in 1>17; the . p-op!f, dependent on th<* periodical increase and
alVair in »St. rft.T'.s-tieM, Manchc-jler, in Isl'J: decrease *>{ commerce, and certain social and poli-

the ilisturlianceH and ex'-itenionl ilurinu' the trial ■ tical accidents which tend to canse a ;:ri!ator or less l

of (^ueen Caroline, in 1>-J0 1, and the l<».»s of life . demand fur labour. Alio:jrether we may a-jsert. j

on the oi'ca.siMn of her funeral in 1>21 ; iheaiiita- with siifety, that there are at the lea.sl 72,'i,n00 ]
tion previriuily to the passing of the Ki-foini Bill families!, or three millions of men, women, and
had a like etVect : the meetimi on Ker.nineion ! children, whose means of living, far from being

(.'onimon on the lOth of April; — in ail these : certain and constant, ar- I'f a precarious kind. ;

periods, indeed, employment decre.isi^d. Labour is depending cither upon the rain, the wind, the .

afl'-cted al.-«o by tlie death of a member of the ^uinjhine, the caprice of fashion, or the ebbings I

royal family, and the hurried demand f'»r general ■ and llowings i;l" commerce. '
mourning, but in a very small di'^ree to wliat was

once thi* case. A \Ve»t-Knd tailor employinLr a Kut tl.ere i* a still more potent crmso at work !
great number of hands did not receive a sih^rl^ to incroasie liie anirnnit of i\'.<i-nf. labour in tins •
order for mourninir on the death of (^ueen Ade- country. Tims far wo have proceeded on the '
laide; while on tiuMlemise of the rrincesa Charlotte ' .i.«*sumption that at the brisk season of each trade |
(in 1S17) thousands of operative tailors, throu-h- there is full eniid'>ymcnt for all; but this is far I
out the throe kini^iloms. worked day and niyht, from being the case in the great majority, if not |
and for double wau'cs, on the general n:onrning. the whole, of the instances above cited. In almost i
(lints in the markets, an increase of heavy bank- ' all occujations there is in this country a .<'/^«v- '
rnptcii's and "panics," such as were experienced //"•"/// o/" A»/.i"')-»;v. and this alone would tend to I
in the nmney market in lS2.'»-0, and again in n.-nder the employment of a vast number of the i
IS 10, with the fadur.; of banks and merchants, hands of a casual rather thfin a reguhir character. )
likewise have the etlect of aiiymenting the mass In the generality of traded the calculation is i
of casual labour; for c;ij>it;iii«ts and employers, that one-third of the hands are fully cmjdoyed,
und r such circumstances, expend as little as one-third partially, and one-third unemployed
pn.s.sii)le in wages or employment until th« »torm : throuuhout the year. This, of course, would
blows over. Kid harvests have a similar du- be the cast^ if there were twice too many work-
pressing elFect. ; people; for suppose the number of work-people in i

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

301

a giren trade to be 6000, and the work infficient
to employ (fully) only half the quantity, then,
of course, 2000 might be occupied their whole
time, 2000 more might hare work sufficient to
occupy them half their time, and the remaining
2000 have no work at all ; or the whole 4000 might,
on the average, obtain three months' employment
out of the twelve; and this is frequently the case.
Hence we see that a surplusage of hands in a trade
tends to change the employment of the great
majority from a state of constancy and regularity
into one of casualty and precariousness.

Consequently it becomes of the highest importance
that we should endeavour to ascertiin what are
the circumstances inducing a surplusage of hands
in the several trades of the present duy. A iur-
plusagc of luinds in a trade may proceed from
three different causes, viz. : —

1. The alteration of the hours, rate, or mode
of working, or else the term of hiring.

2. The increase of the hands themselves.
8. The decrease of the work.

Each of these causes is essentially distinct; in
the first case there is neither an increase in the
number of hands nor a decrease in the quantity of
work, and yet a surplusage of labourers is the
consequence* for it is self-evident that if there be
work enough in a given trade to occupy 6000
men all the year round, labouring twelve hours per
day for six days in the week, the same quantity
of work will afford occupation to only 4000 men,
or one-third less, labouring between fifteen and
sixteen hours per diem for seven days in the week.
The same result would, of course, take place, if
the workman were made to labour one-third more
quickly f and so to get through one-third more work
in the same time (either by increasing their interest
in their work, by the invention of a new tool,
by extra supervision, or by the subdivision of
labour, &c., &c.), the same result would, of course,
ensue as if they laboured one-third longer hours,
viz., one-third of the hands must be thrown out
of employment. So, again, by altering the moiU
or foiiii of work, as by producing on the large
scale, instead of tlie small, a smaller number of
labourers arc required to execute the same amount
of work; and thus (if the market for such work be
necessarily limited) a surplusage of labourers is
the result. Hence we see that the alteration of
j the hours, rate, or mode of working may tend as
I positively to overstock a country with labourers
! at if the labourers themselves had unduly in-
creased.

But this, of course, is on the assumption that both
the quantity of work and the number of hands
remain the same. The next of the three causes,
above mentioned as inducing a surplusage of hands,
is that which arises from a positive increase in the
number of labourers, while the quantity of work re-
mains the same or increases at a less rate than the
labourers; and the third cause is, where the sur-
plusage of labourers arises not from any alteration
in the number of hands, but from a positive
decrease in the quantity of work.

These are distinctions necessary to be borne

clearly in mind for the proper understanding of this
branch of the subject.

In the first case both the number of hands
and the quantity of work remain the same, but
the term, rate, or mode of working is changed.

In the second, hours, rate, or mode of
working remain the same, as well as the quantity
of work, but the number of hands it increased.

And in the third case, neither the number of
hands nor the hours, rate, or mode of working is
supposed to have been altered, but the work only
to have decreased.

The surplusage of hands will, of course, be the
same in each of these cases.

I will begin with the first, viz., that which in-
duces a surplusage of labourers in a trade by
enabling fewer hands to get through the ordinary
amount of work. This is what is called the
" economy of labour."

There are, of course, only three modes of econo-
mizing labour, or causing the same quantity of
work to be done by a smaller number of hands.

1st. By causing the men to work longer,

2nd. By causing the men to work quicker, and
so get through more work in the same time.

Srd. By altering the mode of work, or hiring,
as in the "large system of production," where
fewer hands are required ; or the custom of tem-
porary hirings, where the men are retained only
so long as their services are needed, and discharged
immediately afterwards.

First, of that mode of economizing labour which
depends on an increase of either the ordinary
hours or days for vork. This is what is usually
termed over- work and Sunday -work, both of
which are largely creative of surplus hands. The
hours of labour in mechanical callings are usiuilly
twelve, two of them devoted to meals, or 72 hours
(less by the permitted intervals) in a week. In
the course of my inquiries for the Chronicle, I
met with slop cabinet-makers, tailors, and milliners
who worked sixteen hours and more daily, their
toil being only interrupted by the necessity of
going out, if small masters, to purchase materials,
and offer the goods for sale; or, if journeymen
in the slop trade, to obtain more work and carry
what was completed to the master's shop. They
worked on Sundays also; one tailor told me that
the coat he worked at on the previous Sunday

was for the Rev. Mr. , who " little thought

it," and these slop-workers rarely give above a
few minutes to a meal. Thus they toil 40 hours
beyond the hours usual in an honourable trade
(112 hours instead of 72), in the course of a week,
or between three and four days of the regular
hours of work of the six working days. In other
words, two such men will in less than a week ac-
complish work which should occupy three men a
full week; or 1000 men will execute labour fairly |
calculated to employ 1500 at the least A paucity I
of employment is thus caused among the general |
body, by this system of over-labour decreasing the |
share of work accruing to the several operatives, |
and so adding to surplus hands. j

Of over-work, as regards excessive labour, both
in the general and fancy cabinet trade, I heard |

302

LOSDoy LAnOUli AND THE LOyDOX POOR,

the follnwins: nccountii, which ditTereiit operatircs !
cniicurrcd in ijivinjf ; whilo soittp repivAt'iiied the
luliimr .IS of jongcr duration by at Inist an hour,
and SOUR* by two ))oiirs, a day, thaii I havo stated.

Thf hiliour of iiu» ni n who depend entirely on
" ilii» slaughter-luuiwa" for th* purvh:\K» of tlieir
Article.s is usually seven days a week the year
thniui-h. Tliat is, seven days — fur Sunday work
is nil but nniver>:il -eiich of !•> hour*, or \*l
hours in all ; while th<* e»tab]i«h''d hours of '
hibour iu the '' hon mnibb^ tnide" are six d.iy* of
the week, each of lu hour.-*, i-r 00 hour* in ali.
Thu.4 6<i per cent, u iidded to the extent of tlio
prodnciiDn of b>w-|>riced cubiuet -work, merely
irnin " oviT-hour^ : " but in 3->uie ca.<»es I heard of
lu hourii fur seven days in the week, or 100 hourj
in all.

(.'oncerning the hours of labour in this trade, I
had the following minute partii-ulais from a
giirret-inaster wIid was a chair-maker: —

•• 1 woik from mx every morning to nine at
night ; »niu*. work till ten. My breakfast at ei^ht
slops m*: for ti-n minutes. I cnn breiikiast in lei^s
time, but it'.s a rez^t; my dinner Ukcs me Miy
twenty minutes at the outride ; and my tea, ei^iii
minute.s. All tiie re»t of the time I'm .slaxin;; at
my bench. How many minutes' rest is that, sir i
Tiiirty-eight; well, Kiy tlireo-quarters of an hour,
and that allows a lew bucks at a pipe when 1
rest; but I can smoke and work too. I have
only one ro«)m to woik and csti in. or I should
lose nuire time. Altogether I labour 14] hours
every diy, and I mujit work on Sunday.*! — at
le;i.«»t "JO Sund.iys in the year. One may as well
worK us Hit trettin;;. Jiut on Sundays I only
WDik till It's dusk, or till live or six in summer.
AVlii'u it'j* dusk I take a walk. I "m not well-
dre»-»ed ruou^h tor a Suniiay walk when it's
li^rit, and I can't wear xny apron on thiit day very
wiil In hiiio patches. lint there '»» eii;lil hours
liiai I r«'ckon I Uike up every week one with
another, in dancing iibout to the blan<;litfrers.
I *jn aaiiilied t!>at [ work very nearly lUi.> hours
a Week tlie year through ; drdiictinu llhi tjmc
taken up by the s]aunhterer>i, and bu\ injf stulf —
«iy ci^dit hours a week — it i;i\e» more tiiau l»'.)
hiuirs a week for my work, and there's hundreds
labour as hard as 1 d.>, jusi for a c;u.Mt."

The Ka.Ht-cnd turners j^enerally, I was informed,
when inqnirin? into tiie state of that trade,
labnur at iiie iaihe frum six o'clock in the mjrnin,:^
till elevt-n and twelve at night, being lb hours'
work per day, or IwS hours per week. Tliey
allow tl)em»elves two hours for their meals. It
tikes them, upon an avcnige, two hours more
ev.'ry day fetching and eanyinij their work home.
Some of the I'liisl-end men work on Sundays, and
not a few eitih^r, s:ud my informant. " Sometimes
1 have worked hard," said one man, '' frmi six
one morning till four the next, ami scarcely had
any time to tike my me-als in the lj:irgain. I
have lieen alnx^st sutfocated with the du^t Hyinj;
down my throat aftr working so many hours
upon such heavy work too, and sweating so much.
It makes a man drink where he would not."
This .system of over-work exists in the "slop"

part of almost erery business — indeed, it is the
principal means by which the choap trade is
maintained. Let mc cite from ray letters in the
CiiiWih-ie some more of my experience on this
subject. As regards the London ma ntiui- makers,
1 said : — " The wurkworaen for good .Rhnps that
give fair, or tolerably fair wages, and expect
;iood work, can make six avernge-si/ed mantle*
in a week, tcorlin'i ./Vow ^i' to tirtivr hours a
i/«y; but the hlop-workiT?. by toil mg from thir-
teen to sixteen hours a day, will make nUe
!»uch si/.pd mantles in a week. In a £easou
of twelve weeks ll»00 workers for the slop-
houses and "warehou.ses would at tliis rate
make 10SJ)00 mantleii, or 'diJ.OOO more than
workers for the fair trade. Or. to put it in
another light, these slop- women, by being com-
jielled, i!i order to live, to work such ov«T-hours
as intiict lasting injury «»n the hialth. supplant, by
tlieir over- work anil over-hour.«j, tup labour of 5O0
hand"", working the regu'ar hours.**

The f'dlowing are the words i>f a chamhcr^mas-
tcr. working for the cheap shoe trade : —

" From people beinj: obliged to work twice the
hours they once ilid work, or that in rea*on they
on>fht to work, a glut of hands is the con»e<^uence,
and the nuij>ters are led to make reductions in
the wage*. They take advantiige of our poverty
and lower the wages, so as to underseil each
other, and command business. My daughters
' have to work liftecn hours a day that we may
make a bare living. They seem to have no
' spirit and no animation in them ; in fact, such
, very hard work takes the youth out of them.
■ They have no time to enjoy their youth, and,
with all their work, they can't presiont the re-
spectable appearance they oughu" "I" linter-
poseil my infonuants wife) " «flen feel a faintness
and oppression from my hard work, as if my
bloiid diil not lirculate."

The better class of artiz-nns denounce the system
of Sunday working as the nmat iniquitous of all
: the impositions. They object to it. not only on
moral and religious grounds, but economically
also. *' Kvery GOO men employed on the Sab-
biith,'' say they, "deprive lUO individuals of a
week's wi;rk. Kvery six men who lalxoir seven
days in the week must luKeasjirily liir:>w one
other man out of employ for a whole week. The
: seventh man is thus deprived of his hiir share of
work by the overtoilin:? of the other *ix." This
Sunday working is a necessary con-sequence of
the cheap *!•»»• trade. The workmen cannot keep
thi-ir families by their six days' labour, and there-
fore they not only, under that M-stem, gel K-ss
wnges and do more work, but by their extra
la^Kinr throw so many more hands out of em-
ployment.

ilerc then, in the" over- work of many of the
trade, we tind a vast cause of surpUii iiai:ds, and,
consequently, of casual labour ; and that the work
in these trades has not proportionately increa.vd is
proven by the fact of the existence of a sujierlluity
of workmen.

L.'t lis now turn our attention to the second of
the causes aVjore cited, viz., the eau4ih.»j tj mcu to

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

908

wirk qukltr, and lo to accomplifh more in the
■ame time. There are several means of attaining
thi» end ; it may be brought about either (a) by
making the workman'a gains depend directly on
the ({uantity of work executed by him, as by the
I tubsiitution of piece- work for day>work; {b) by
the omission of certain details or parts necessary
for the perfection of the work ; (c) by decreasing
the workman's pay, and so increasing the neces-
sity for him to execute a greater quantity of work
in order to obtain the same income; {<t} in-
creasing the supenriiion, and enconraging a spirit
of emulation among the workpeople; (e) by
dividing the labour into a number of simple and
minute processes^ and so increasing the expert-
ness of the labourers ; (/) by the invention of
some new tool or machine for expediting the
operations of the workman.

I shall give a brief illustration of each of these
causes striatim, showing how they tend to produce
a snrplusi^e of hands in the trades to which they
are sevendly applied. And first, as to making
the troTATMaa's jaiiu dtpfifi directly oih iht ^atan-
tUy of Kork ejuculeil by kin.

Of course there are but two direct modes of pay-
ing for labour — either by the day or by the piece.
Over-work by day-work is effected by means of
what is called the "strapping system" (as de-
scribed in the Morning CkronicU in my letter
ttpon the carpenters and joiners), where a whole
shop are set to race over their work in silence
one with another, each striving to outdo the rest,
ficom the knowledge that anything short of extra-
i ordinary exertion will be sure to be punished
with dismissal. Over-work by piece-work, on the
other handy is almost a necessary consequence of
tliat moda of payment — for where men are paid by
the quantity they do, of course it becomes tlie interest
of a woriunan to do more than he otherwise would. ^

" Almost all who work by the day, or for a :
fixed salary, that is to say, those who labour for I
the gain of others, not for their own, have," it
1ms been well remarked, ''no interest in doing
more than the smnllcst quantity of wofk that will '
pass as a falfilment of the mere terms of their
engagement Owing to the insufficient interest
which day hibourers have in the result of their
labour^ there is a natural tendency in such labour
In be extxemely inefficient — a tendency only to
be OTivcome by vigilant superintendence on the
part of tha persona who ar€ interested in the
result. The 'masters tye* is notoriously the
only security to be relied en. BiA superintend
tbcm as yoa will, day labourers are so much in-
ferior ta those who work by the piece, that, as
was before said, the latter system is practised in
aH iadustnal occupations where the work admits
of being put out in defiuife portions^ without in-
Talving the necessity of taa troublesome a surveil-
laaca t» guard against inferiority (or scamping)
in the execution.** Bat if the labourer at piece-
vcek. is made to produce a greater quantity than
at day-work, and this solely by conm^cting his
awn interest with that of his employer, how much
more krgely mast the productiveness of workmen
be iacrcaaed when Uboaring wholly on Uieix own

account! Accordingly it has been invariably
found that whenever the operative unites in him-
self the double function of capitalist and labourer,
as the " garret-master" in the cabinet trade, and
the " chamber-master" in the shoe trade, making
up his own materials or working on his own
property, his productiveness, single-handed, is
considerably greater than can be attained even
under the large system of production, where all the
arts and appliances of which extensive capital can
avail itself are brought into operation.

As regards the increased production by omitting
certain detail* necetsarg for the due ixflf action of
the Kork, it may be said that " scamping " adds
at least 200 per cent, to the productions of the
cabinet-maker's trade. I ascertained, in the
course of my previous inquiries, several cases
of this over-work from scamping, and adduce
two. A very quick hand, a little master, work-
ing, as he called it, '' at a slaughtering pace," for
a warehouse, mnde 60 plain writing-desks in a
week of 90 hours ; while a first-rate workman,
also a quick hand, made 18 in a week of 70
hours. The scamping hand said he must work
at the rate he did to make lis. a week from a
slaughter-house; and so used to such style of
work had he become, that, tliongh a few years
back he did West-end work in the best style, he
could not now make eighteen desks in a week, if
compelled to finish them in the style of excellence
displayed in the work of the journeyman employed
for the honourable trade. Perhaps, lie added, he
couldn't make them in that style at all. The
frequent use of rosewood veneers in the fancy
cabinet, and their occasional use in the general
cabinet trade gives, I was told, great facilities for
scamping. If in his haste the scamping hand
injure the veneer, or if it have been originally
faulty, be takes a mixture of gum shellac and
" colour" (colour being a composition of Venetian
red and lamp black), which he has ready by him,
rubs it over the damaged part smooths it with a
slightly-heated iron, and so blends it with the
colour of the rosewood that the warehouseman
does not detect the flaw. In the general, as contra-
distinguished from the fancy, cabinet trade I found
the same ratio of '* scamping." A good workman
in the better-paid trade made a four-foot mahogany
chest of drawers in five days, working the regular
hours, and receiving, at piece>work price, 35«. A
scamping hand made five of the same size in a
week, and had time to carry them for sale to the
warehouses, vrait for their purchase or refusal,
and buy material. But for the necessity of doing
this the scamping Lind could have node seven
in the 91 hours of his week, though of course
in a very inferior manner. "They would hold
together for a time«" I was assured, " and that
was all ; but the slaughterer cared only to have
them viewly and cheap." These two cases ex-
ceed the average and I have cited them to show
what can be done under the scamping systenk.

We now come to the increeued rate of working
induced 6jr a reduetion qf the ordinary rate qf
rennneration qf the worknuui. Not only is it
true that over-work makaa nndei^pay, bat the

SU4

LOSLON LABOUR AND THE LOXDOX POOR.

converse of the proprteition is eciually true, thnt
under- pay makes over- work- that is to say, it is
true ol" tho?e trades where the system ot piece-
work or small mastership admits of the operative
doing the utmost amount of work that he is ahlc
to ncromplii^h : for the workman in such cases
seldom or never thinks of reducing his expenditure
to his income, but rather of increasing his labour,
so as still to bring his income, by extra }>ro(luc-
tion, np to his expenditure. Hence we find that,
as the wages of a trade descend, so dn the
labourers extend their hours of work to the
utmost possible limits — they not only toil earlier
and later than before, but the Sunday becomes a
workilay like the rest (amongst the ** sweat-rs" of
the tailoring trade Sunday labour, ad I have
shown, is almost univers;il) : and when the hours
of work are carried to the extreme (»f human
industry, then more is sought to be done iu a
given fcjMue of time, either by the cmplojnnent of
the members of their own family, or apprentices,
upon the inferior jjoriion of the work, ur else by
" scamping it." " My employer." I was told by
a journey mtin tailor working for the Messrs.
Nicoll, "reduces my wages one-third, and the con-
sequt-nce is, I put in two stitches where I used
to givr three." " I must work from six to eight,
and later," ffuid a pembroke-table-mjiker to me,
" to gc?t 1 y*. now for m\' labt>ur, where I used to
get 5l.t. a week— that's just a third. I could in
the old times give my children good schooling
and good meals. Now children have to be put
to wt»rk very young. 1 have four sons working
for me at present. N«)t only, therefore, does any
stimulus to extra pri»dtiction mak'- over-work, and
o\rr-work make under-pay: 1 ut under-pay, by
becoming an additional j'rovi.cali\e to increji'-ed
industry. ;igain gives ri>ie in its turn to over-wurk.
Hence we arrive at a plain unerring law — *>,-,,"

-Oi/: /;<!.'/•. .f I'.hilii'jfif^/ «.«'' I'hiUi-jnii/ iniiL.<

l»ut the abo\e means of iiun.a-ijig the rate of
wurkini: refer solely to thosr cases where ili-j
extra laliour is induced by niakin;j it the iiit,,;-.it
of the wtiikman so to do, Tlie other means of
extra j»roduction is l-.i ytrirt,,- {n-^nn-.'sini, i,r'
};'r.o.n,i,.-, i.r !!.>.» j>o.\i iji //., il.j.:. The
iihups wh'-re this .\vstem is ciiforced are termed
" Btrajipiug-iihops." as indicative of e>iabliahment.H
where an undue cjuantity (»f work is expected
from a journeyman in the course of the day.
Smh j-hiip-!. though not directly n.'aking use of
che:jji lab. or (for the wages paid in them arc
genenills of ilu* hiuhor nite^, sti.l, by exacting
more work, may of course be 6;ud, in sirictne&s,
to encourage the kysteni now becoming general,
«tf less pay and inferior skill. These stnipping
ostablishnients sometimes go by the name of
" scamping shops," on account of the time
allowni tur the manufacture of the dilferent
articles not being sutlicient to admit of goud
worknianshij».

Coniernuigihis '* .^^■((^/;» //;«/" system I received
the lolli>\ving extraordinary account from a man
after his heavy day's labo'ur. Never in all my
experience had I seen so s;id an instance of over-

work. The poor fellow was lo fatigued that he
could hardly rest in his seat Ai he spoke he
sighed deeply and heavily, and appeared almost
spirit-broken with excessive labour : —

*' I work at wh.':t is called a strapping ihop,** he
said, '* and have worked at nothing else for these
many years past in London. I call ' strapping'
doing iM much work as a human being or a horse
possibly can in a day, and that without any hang-
ing upon the collar, but with the foreman's eyes
constantly lixed upon you, from six o'clock in the
morning to six o'clock at night. The shop in
which 1 work is for all the world like a prison ;
the silent system is as strictly carried out there as
in a model paol. If a man was to ask any com-
mon question of his neighbour, except it was
connected with his trade, he would be discharged
there and then. If a journeyman makes the least
mistake, he is pricked otf just the same. A man
working at such places is almost always in fear ;
for the most trifling things he*s thrown out of
wotk in an instant. And then the quantity of
work that one is forced to get tii rough is posi-
tively awful ; if he can't do a plenty of it, he
don't stop long where I am. No one would
think it was possible to get so much out of
blood and bones. No slaves work like we do.
At some of the strapping shops the foreman
keeps continually walking about with his eyes
on all the men at once. At others the foreman is
perched high up, so that he can have the whole of
the men under his eye together. I suppose since
I knew the trade that a man docs four tiinet the
fori- t/ifC he (iiU/orintrlt/. I know a man that 's
done four pairs of sashes in a day, and one is
considen.'d to be a good day's labour. What's
worse than all, th>.» men are every one striving
one au'ainst the other. K.ich is trying to get
t!irou;ih the wurk quieker than his neighbours.
Four ur live men are set the same job, so that they
may be all ]iitted against (<nc another, and then
away they go every one striving his bardcbt for
fi-ar t'tiat the others should get fuiished first. They
are ali tearin-,' along from the tirst thing in the
morning to the last at night, as hard as they can
po, and when the time comes to knock off they
are ready to liri p. I was hours after I got home
last niirht before I could get a wink of sleep: the
S(des of my feet were on lire, and my arms ached
to that doiifee that I could hardly lift m\' hand to
my h>-ad. C>fien, too, when we get up of a morn-
ing, we are more tired than when we went to bed,
for we can 't sleep many a night; but we mu»tn't
let our empl'»yers know it, or eUe they'd be cer-
tain we couldn't do enough for them, and we'd
get the sack. So, tired Jis we may be, we are
obliu'»*d to look lively, somehow or other, at the
sh(»p of a morning. If we 're not beside our bench
the very moment the bell's done rinsing, our time's
dtK-ked — they wont give us a single minute out
of the hour. If I was working for a fair master,
I should do nearly one-third, and sometimes a half,
less wt)rk than I am now forced to get through,
and. even to manage that much, I shouldn't be
idle a second of my time. It's quite a mystery
to me how they do contrive to get so much work

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

305

out of the men. But they are very clever people.
They know how to have the most out of a man,
better than any one in the world. They are all
picked men in the shop — regular ' itrappers/ and
no mistake. The most of them are five foot ten,
and fine broad-shouldered, strong-backed fellows
too— if they weren't they wouldn't have them.
Bless you, they make no words with the men,
they sack them if they 're not strong enough to do
all they want; and they can pretty soon tell, the
very first shaving a man strikes in the shop, what
a chap is made of. Some men are done up at such
work — quite old men and gray with spectacles on,
by the time they are forty. I have seen fine
strong men, of 86, come in there and be bent
double in two or three years. They are most all
countrymen at the strapping shops. If they see
a great strapping fellow, who they think has got
some stuff about him that will come out, they will
give him a job directly. We are used for all the
world like cab or omnibus horses. Directly they've
had all the work out of us, we are turned off, and
I am sure, after my day's work is over, my feel-
ings must be very much the same as one of the
London cab horses. As for Sunday, it is literally
a day of rest with us, for the greater part of us
lay a-bed all day, and even that will hardly take
the aches and pains out of our bones and muscles.
When I 'm done and fiung by, of course I must
itarve."

The next means of inducing a quicker rate of
working, and so economizing the number of la-
bourers, is by the division and subdinsion of
labour. In perhaps all the skilled work of
London, of the better sort, this is more or less
the case; it is the case in a much smaller degree
in the country.

The nice subdivision makes the operatives per-
fect adepts in their respective branches, working
at them with a greater and a more assured facility
than if their care had to be given to the whole
work, and in this manner the work is completed
in less time, and consequently by fewer hands.

In illustration of the extraordinary increased
productiveness induced by the division of labour,
I need only cite the well-known cases: —

"It is found," says Mr. Mill, "that the produc-
tive power of labour is increased by carrying the
separation further and further; by breaking down
more and more every process of industry into
parts, so that each labourer shall confine himself
to an even smaller number of simple operations.
And thus, in time, arise those remarkable cases
of what is called the division of labour, with
which all readers on subjects of this nature are
familiar. Adam Smith's illustration from pin-
making, though so well-known, is so much to the
point, that I will venture once more to transcribe
iL ' The business of making a pin is divided into
eighteen distinct operations. One man draws out
the wire, another strai^^htens it, a third cuts it, a
fourth points it, and a fifth grinds it at the top for
receiving the head; to make the head requires
two or three distinct operations; to put it on, is a
peculiar business; to whiten the pins is another;
it is even a trade by itself to put them into the

paper. I have seen a small manufiictory where
ten men only were employed, and were some of
them, consequently, performed two or three dis-
tinct operations. But though they were very poor,
and therefore but indifferently accommodated with
the necessary machinery, they could, when they
exerted themselves, make among them about
twelve pounds of pins in a day. There are in
a pound upwards of 4000 pins of a middling
size.

"'Those ten persons, therefore, could make
among them upwards of 48,000 pins in a day.
Each person, therefore, making a tenth part of
48,000 pins, might be considered as making 4800
pins in a day. But if they had all wrought
separately and independently, and without any of
them having been educated to this peculiar busi-
ness, they certainly could not each of them have
made 20, perhaps not one pin in a day.' "

M. Say furnishes a still stronger example of the
effects of division of labour, from a not very im-
portant branch of industry certainly, the mnnu&c-
ture of playing cards. " It is said by those en-
gaged in the business, that each card, that is, a piece
of pasteboard of the size of the hand, before being
ready for sale, does not undergo fewer than 70
operations, every one of which might be the occu-
pation of a distinct class of workmen. And
if there are not 70 classes of work-people in each
card manufactory, it is because the division of
labour is not carried so far as it might be; because
the same workman is charged with two, three, or
four distinct operations. The influence of this
distribution of employment is immense. I have
seen a card manufactory where thirty workmen
produced daily 15,500 cards, being above 500
cards for each labourer; and it may be presumed
that if each of these workmen were obliged to
perform all the operations himself, even supposing
him a practised hand, he would not, perhaps, com-
plete two cards in a day; and the 30 workmen,
instead of 15,500 cards, would make only GO.*'

One great promoter of the decrease of manual
labour is to be found in the economy of labour
from a very different cause to any I have pointed
out as tending to the increase of surplus hands
and casual labour, viz., to the vse of machinery.

In this country the use of machinery has
economised the labour both of man and horse to
a greater extent than is known in any other
land, and that in nearly all departments of com-
merce or traffic. The total estimated machine
power in the kingdonf is 600,000,000 of human
beings, and this has been all produced within the
Inst century. In agriculture, for example, the
threshing of the com was the peasant's work of
the later autumn and of a great part of the winter,
until towards the latter part of the last century.
The harvest was hardly considered complete until
the corn was threshed by the peasants. On the
first introduction of the threshing machines, they
were demolished in many places by the country
labourers, whose rage was excited to find that
their winter's work, instead of being regular, had
become casual.

But the use of these machines is now almost

30C

LOXDOy LABOUR AXD THE LOXDOX POOR.

I

univiTsal. It would, of course, be the height of
I absurdity to i».iy that threshing machines could
I pojij-ilily imreaac the numlier of lhre*hi'r», evrti :i»
tiie ru:iuin<^ machines cannot iMissibly increase
tlie number of reapers ; their eliect is rather to
displace the jireater number of labmircTi so en-
ppiu'<'d.a:id hence indeed the *■ ecmoiny" of them.
It ill not knuu'u what number of m"n were, at
any time, employed in llireshini; com. Their
I (ii.fjiI.iceniiMit wm gradual, and in some of the
nxuTii remote parts of the j>ri»vincc^. th«* flails of
the tiireshers nuiy he heard ^ti!l, but ifa thre!>hing
machine for iheyare of diti'frenl j»'»\ver — do the
work, ns has bitn (Stated, of h\x labourers, the
cc<in'imi7.:iiion or dispIoci-rn'Mit oi manual labour is
at once bhown to be the economizatiim and dis-
plac'-ment of the whole labour (fur a season) of a
country side ; tlin.4 increasing surplus hands.

In other matters— in the imloadini; vessels by
cranes, in afl bniuches of nianu!actun.'s, and even
in such minor matters as the grinding of colfee
berries, and the cuttini; and spliiiing of wood for
lucifer matches, an immense amount of nuinnal
labmr has been minimized, economize.!, or dis-
placed by steam machinery. On my inquiry into
the C'inditicm of the I^ondnn sawyerh, I found that
the labour of \i\UM.) men had been displaced by
the steam baw-mil!s of the metropolis alone. At
out* of the largest builder's I saw machines for
making niorii.se>* and tenons, for sticking mould-
int;"!. an:l, indeed, performing all the 0{K'rati«>ns
of the carpenter — on'.' such machine doing the
work, perli:ip.-«, of a hundred men. I a^keU the
probable nitbience that kucU an instrument was
likely to ha\e on the men ? ** Iluin them all," was
till* larouic rej.Iy of tlie superintendent of the
bu^ll:e.s^ I Within the la>t year casks have been
ni.i'le liy machinery— a feat tiiat the coopers
Ue Mired imp ---ible. Wjieel-*, also, have bern
lately jiroduced by ht-'aiii. 1 need, however,
as 1 hive so n-cently loiielud upoti the s>ul)-
jirt, do no m-ire tiian tall allrniion t) the in-
lornutii m I ]ii\e iriveii ip. 'J4»». vol. ii.) coii-
e-rniii.: the u.-e of machinery in lieu ol liuin.in
lab<»:ir. li !.s thrre j-h')\vn that if th" public .street-
ftwefpiiiu u-re eiV«"cted, tliroiiu'lioui the metr.i:»--l;s.
by tile niaeiiiiies, neariy llo'i oi til'- '27 o manual
laboiuiM?*, n.)\v ^c.lVa^nM;.r lor the parish cuilrrutor-.
\v ■ul.i be ihrr.wn <iijt oi wo::;, and dej rivt'd of
74:>''., out (»t" their i.>iiit earniii-,'"'. iu tiie year.

It ii the fashi.m oi' p Miii;ai econonii-'ts t(»

iii> >t on the general pr-ip-isition that niaci.iiiery

ineu-a^es the deiiiand fur labour, rather than de-

ci\.i«-«-.'' it; when tiiey write tniijuard.'illy, how-

ev.-r. tiiey iiiv.siaiily helray a f»:iseioiiS'ni'ss l. at

• liie i.M;-;it!, I.J n;aehinrry t-i nianua. iao-iiuvrs are

K'lt 'j'.iile 1,1 nr.ariaiile as tiiey wi-uld titlu r Ai.«e

ni;'.!.!- I. lit. lleie. fur iii«t nice, isa conli*<si<Mj iroiii

t ■• I'M . phi 'i mi •• tip* Kiiiployer aiiii Knipi'-yed."*

]>'.r:ili.:ii' 1 by the 31e.v.r>. 'Iianibcr", u('n;i«-nien

v.li-i >;;rely eani.ot in- :'|•■l.■ll^.e1i ol thmil; .ivirse to

^•l•:)|■.<^'.!;:^■ i". d-ii:r.Ili-t. Ii i? tfU" th.' j..iia|»!i]et is

i!-.:-"'ui d ti. sii-Av thi.- eNils ol st:i..e'« ti workisi^

I ni-ii. Imt it iikewiw prii-.t". <iit tiie evils i.f nie-

I ehaiiii.ai p )\vit i.i liie vniim ciar.-> wiieu api/liid to

; ceri.iiu «:;".raii.iii.-.

" Strikes also loid to th€ superceding nf hiiml
lo^onr b'l machiu€r,*' says this little work. " la
^^'i\, on the occasion of a strike at Manchester,
Several of the capitalists, afiraid of their buMUPSs
being driven to other countries, bad recourse to
the celebnited machinists, Messrs. Sharp and
Co. of Manchester, requesting them to dir«?ft
the inventivu t;ilents of their partner, Mr. Ro-
berts, to the construction of a self-acting mule, in
orJer to emancipate the trade from galling slavery
and imi>ending ruin. Under assurances of the
most liU-ml eneourigement in the adoption of
his invention, Mr. Uoberts suspended his pntfes-
sional pursuits as :;u engineer, and set his fertile
genius to con>:ruct a spinning automatnn. In the
course of a few ntonths he produced a rn.achine.
called the ' Self-aciin;? Mnle,* which, in 1S34. was
in operation in upwards of CO factorirt; fioiitj
the "-ink fj tht fi'iol xitinneri jw> timch b'tfer tA*in

I M;/ cvoUl do if thchifflon, as to feui-e thtm ho

. rh'tit^f Uff'ihift it.

I ** In his work on the ' Philosophy of Manuf.ic-

I tares,* Dr. Un* observes on tlie same subject —

■ ' The elegant art of cilico-printing, which embodies
in its operations ihe most elegant problems nf
chemistry, as well as mechanics, had been for a
long period the snort t>f foolish journeymen, who
turned the liberal means of comfort it famished
them into wt-ap-nis of warfare against their em-
ployers anil the trade itself. They were, in fact,

• by their dcliriou.s cinnbinations. ]dotting to kill the
goos'j which laid tlie golden eg^'s of their industry,

i or to force it to lly otf to a foreign land, where it

I mi^ht live without m«ilestation. In the spirit of
Kiiyptian tii'k masters, the operative printers dic-

I taii'il i.t tiie manntacturers the numbt-r and quality
of tile appiviitiee.s to be adiniiied into the traJtr,
tile Ii >uis of their own labour, and the wagtt^ tci
1h« I ai'l tliein. At Umi-jiIi capitalists sought deliver-
auLi" from t!ii.^ i:iti'!erable b iidairo in tlie resoureei
tif .'rii-,,..'. and w«Me speeilily reinstated in thrir
le^iiiaiate dMinijii.oi of tlie head over t)ie inferiiT
nieinber-. Tiie four col. air and fivec«»lour machine.-,
wiiich now rer.drr ealico-printiiii; an uiifrrini.' and
expi'ditiou* proci'ss, are mounted in all s;n-a:

' e.-'t.ibii-liui'-iits. ft wa« umler the high pre&Mirc
i»t the haiiie de.M»i.tic coiileileracie?. that st*]f-ac:;ii!»
appanitns for eM-eutiti-: the dyeing and rinsiii:;
opeiali'»ii.s has !;• e:i deviseil."

••The crojej-iT^ of the \Ve>t Riding of Ynrk?»huv.
and tlie hetkUst or llax die>.>ers, ran unfslii 'a
ti'.e <ii' \vo' on tiiis siil;i Tt. Their earniiii:*
exieeiled th.)se nl iiio>t nu cliaiiics: but the iVt^
quny of stnlcis anieiig them, and the irre^'i-
iaritii-s in their liMir* and tini-.-s of wmki:!,'.
comiKiied nivstiT' t> stiiiititiit'- riacl.'.iiery t'«f
tiiiu- manual lab-iir. T/if,'i- !ii<<l'.<, in e-......-:{y''...ir.-.

/•'If- ln.it i ,. ii -ir-. I* wi'^'n'f s/'^r ,>t '/f •</.''

h niii.>t. ili-ii. Ii.* admitted tiiat in.ichinery. :.-
.*..„.,. fvr.v,.. ,// /./»•.•'. linos di>j'!aee nKinu.il lafmiir,
ai!(i s«) t.-inl t-' pi.".l':i-i' a surplu.- -go of labourer-?,
evfii j'.s f.^'T w.-i';. Siiiiday-w.'rk. >»i:anipiii;:-vic.rk,
sira;'i'iii.; "Vi r:\.;oci---\v.'rk, i!i":iiiti'!y-.';i% idtd wi-rV,
•Ve.. na>e th-.- .vIMj- eHect *«» loiii; i:s the quantity
of work t I i»e (Idle leniaiiis unaltered. T.',.- ../'■.■.-
.■^if.ii.'t.f I.;' tU wotL'.t IS the one ci^cu^.l^t.l■..ce

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

307

which detennines whether the economy of hiboor
produced by theee meaiM u a blessing or a cnne
to the nation. To apply mechanical power, the
division of labour, the large syitcm of production,
or indeed any other meant of enabling a less
number of labonrers to do the lame amount of
work when the quantity of wort to be done is
liuiiUxL 1 A its nature, as, for instance, the threshing
of com, the sawing of wood, &c^ is necessarily
to make either paupers or criminals of those who
were previously honest independent men, living by
the exercise of their industry in that particular
direction. Economize your labour one-half, in
connection with a particular article, and yoa must
sell twice the quantity of that article or displace
a certain number of the labourers ; that is to say,
suppose it requires 400 men to produce 4000 com-
modities in a given time, then, if you enable 200
men to produce the same quantity in the same time,
you must get rid of 8000 commodities, or deprive
a certain number of labourers of their ordinary
means of living. Indeed, the proposition is almost
self-evident, though generally ignored by social
philosophers : economize your labour at a greater
rate than you expand your markets, and yon must
necessarily increase your paupers and criminals in
precisely the same ratio. " The division of labour,*'
says Mr. 11 ill, following Adam Smith, " is limited
by the extent of the market. If by the separa-
tion of pin-making into ten distinct employments
48,000 pins can be made in a day, this separation
will only be advisable if the number of accessible
consumers is such as to require every day some-
thing like 48,000 pins. If there is a demand for
only 25,000, the division of labour can be advan-
tageously carried but to the extent which will
' every day produce that smaller number.'* Again,
as regards the large system of production, the
same authority says, " the possibility of substitu-
ting the large system of production for the small
depends, of course, on the extent of the market.
The large sys'lem can only be advantageous when
a large amount of business is to be done; it
implirs, therefore, either a populous and flourish-
ing community, or a great opening for exportation."
But these are mere glimmerings of the broad in-
controvertible principle, that t/ts economiiation 0/
labour at a yrcattr rate than the expansion of the
viarkets, is necessarily the cause of surplus labour
ta a community.

The effect of machinery in depriving the families
of agricultural labourers of their ordinary sources
of income is well established. "Those countries,"
writes Mr. Thornton, " in which the cUiss of agri-
cultural labourers is most depressed, have all one
thing in common. Each of them was formerly
the seat of a flourishing manufacture carried
on by the cottagers at their own homes, which
has now decayed or been withdrawn to other
situations. Thus, in Buckingliamshire and Bed-
fordshire, the wives and children of labouring
men had formerly very prohtable occupation in
making lace; during the last war a tolerable lace-
maker, working eight hours a day, couFd easily
earn 10<. or 12s, a week; the prohts of this em-
ployment have been since so much reduced by the

use of machinery, that a pillow keemaker must
now work twelve hours daily to earn 2«. 6d, a
week."

The last of the conditions above cited, as causing
the same or a greater amount of work to be exe-
cuted with a less quantity of labour, is the targe
system qf production, Mr. Babbage and Mr. Mill
have so well and fully pointed out ** the economy
of labour" effected in this manner, that I can-
not, do better than quote from them upon this
subject : —

" Even when no additional subdivision of the
work," says Mr. Mill, " would follow an enhirge-
ment of the operations, there will be good economy
in enlarging them to the point at which every
person to whom it is convenient to assign a
special occupation will have full, emplo^-ment in
that occupation." This point is well illustrated
by Mr. Babbage :— '' If machines be kept working
through the 24 hours" [which is evidently the
only economical mode of employing them], '* it it
necessary that some person shall attend to admit
the workmen at the time they relieve each other ;
and whether tho porter or other servant so era-
ployed admit one person or twenty, his rest will
be equally disturbed. It will also be necessary
occasionally to adjust or repair the machine ; and
this can be done much better by a workman
accustomed to machine-making than by the person
who uses it. Now, since the good performance
and the duration of machines depend, to a very
great extent, upon correcting every shake or
imperfection in their parts as soon as they appear,
the prompt attention of a workman resident on
the spot will considerably reduce the expenditure
arising from the wear and tear of the machinery.
But in the case of a single lace-frame, or a single
loom, this wouW be too expensive a plan. Here,
then, arises another circumstance, which tends to
enlarge the extent of the factory. It ought to
consist of such a number of machines as shall
occupy the whole time of one workman in keeping
them in order. If extended beyond that number
the same principle of economy would point out
the necessity of doubling or tripling the number
of machines, in order to employ the whole time
of two or three fckilful workmen. Where one
portion of the workman's labour consists in the
exertion of mere physical force, as in weaving,
and in many similar arts, it will soon occur to the
manufacturer that, if that part were executed by a
steam-engine, the same man might, in the case of
weaving, attend to two or more looms at once;
and, since we already suppose that one or more
operative engineers have been employed, the
number of looms may be so arranged that their
time shall be fully occupied in keeping the steam-
engine and the looms in wder.

•* Pursuing the same principles, the manufactory
becomes gradually so enlarged that the expense of
lighting during the night amounts to a consider-
able sum ; and as there are already attached to
the estoblishment persons who are up all night,
and can therefore constantly attend to it, and
also engineers to make and keep in repair any

No. XLIV.

308

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

machinery, the addition of an apparatus for mak-
ing gas to light the factory leads to a new exten-
lion, at the same time that it contributes, by
diminishing the expense of lighting and the risk
of accidents from fire, to reduce the cost of ma-
nufacturing.

'' Long before a factory lias reached this extent
it will have been found necessary to establish an
accountant's department, with clerks to pay the
workmen, and to see that they arrive at their
stated times ; and this department must be in
communication with the agents who purchase the
raw produce, and with those who sell the mann*
fitctured article. It will cost these clerks and
accountants little more time and trouble to pay a
large number of workmen than a small number,
to check the accounts of large transactions than
of smalL If the business doubled itself it would
probably be necessary to increase, but certainly
not to double, the number either of accountants
or of buying and selling agents. Evtrif increate
of business trouUi enable the ichole to be carried on
with a proportionalif/ smaller amount of labour.
As a general rule, the expenses of a business do
not increase by any means proportionally to the
quantity of business. Let us take as an example
a set of operations which we are accustomed to
see carried on by one great establishment — that of
the Post Office.

'' Suppose that the business, let us say only of
the London letter-post, instead of being centralised
in a single concern, were divided among five or
six competing companies. Each of these would
be obliged to maintain almost as large an esta-
blishment as is now sufficient for the whole.
Since each must arrange for receiving and deliNer-
ing letters in all parts of the town, each must
send letter-carriers into every street, and alm(»st
every alley, and this, too, as many times in the
day as is now done by the Post' Office, if the
service is to be as well performed. Each must
have an office for receiving letters in every neigh-
bourhood, with all subsidiary arrangements for
collecting the lettere from the different offices and
re distributing them. I say nothing of the much
greater number of superior officers who would be
required to check and control tlie subordinates,
implying not only a greater cost in salaries for
such responsible officers, but the necessity, per-
haps, of being satisfied in many instances with an
inferior standard of qualification, and so failing in
the object."

But this refers solely to the " large system of
business" as applied to purposes of manufacture
and distribution. In connection with agricul-
ture there is the same saving of labour effected.
"The large farmer," says Mr. Mill, "has some
advantage in the article of buildings. It does
not cost so much to house a great number of
cattle in one building, as to lodge them equally
well in several buildings. There is also some
advantage in implements. A small farmer is
not so likely to possess expensive instruments.
But the principal agricultural implements, even
when of the best construction, are not ex-
pensive. It may not answer to a small farmer

to own a threshing machine for the small
quantity of com he has to thresh ; but there is
no reason why such a machine should not in
every neighbourhood be owned in common, or
provided by some person to whom the othen pay
a consideration for its use. The large fimnner can
make some saving in cost of carriage. There is
nearly as much trouble in carrying a small portion
of produce to market, as a much greater produce;
in bringing home a small, as a much larger quan-
tity of manure, and articles of daily consumption.
There is also the greater cheapness of buying
things in large quantities.**

A short time ago I went into Buckinghamshire
to look into the allotment system. And, in one
parish of 1800 acres, I found that tome years
ago there were seventeen farmera who occupied,
upon the average, 100 acres each, and who, previous
to the immigration of the Irish harvest-men, con^
fianily employed six men a-piece, or, in the aggre-
gate, upwards of 100 hands. Now, however, the
Airmen in the same parish occupy to the extent of
300 acres each, and respectively employ only six
men and a few extra hands at harvest timt.
Thus the number of hands employed by this
system has been decreased one-half. I learned,
moreover, from a clergyman there, who had
resided in Wiltshire, that the same thing wu
going on in that county also; that small farms
were giving way to Urge farms, and that at least
half the labouren had been displaced. The
agricultural labouren, at the time of taking the
last census, were 1,500,000 in number : so that,
if this system be generally carried out, there must
be 750,000 labouren and their families, or
3,000,000 people, deprived of their living by it.

Sir James Graham, in his evidence before the
Committee on Criminal Commitments, has given us
some curious particulars as to the decrease of the
number of hands required for agricultural purposes,
where the large system of production is pursued
in place of the small: he has told us how many
hands he was enabled to get rid of by these
means, the proportion of labour displaced, it will
be seen, amounted to about 10 per cent, of the
labouring population. In answer to a question
relative to the increase of population in his district,
he replied : —

" I have myself taken very »ironft means to
prevrnt if, for it so happens that my whole estate
came out «»f lease in the year 1822, after the
currency of a lease of fourteen years; nnd by
confolidation of faniut, and Uie dentt-vclion •/
cottof/es, I bare (Uminis/wd, u}*on my oirn pro-
2>ertif, the iwpulalion to the extent of from 300 to
AOO'soahr

"On how many acresi— On about 3^,000
acres." [This is at the rate of one in every 100
acres].

'• What was the whole extent of population? —
It wa-s under 4000 before I reduced it.

"What became of those 300 or 400?— The
greater part of thcni, being small tenants were,
enabled to find farms on the estates of other pro-
prietors, who pursued the opposite course of sub-
dividing their csUites for the purpose of obtiinin;

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

309

higher nominal rents; otkert have htcome day
labourers, and as day Uhourers, I have reason to
know, they are more thriving than they were on
my estate as small farmers, subject to a high rent,
which their want of capital seldom enabled them
to pay; two or three of these fiunilies went to
America.

" Have you any out of worki — None entirely
out of work, some only partially employed; but
since the dutpersion of this large mats (^popula-
tion, the supply of labour has not much exceeded
the demand, for whenever I removed a family, 1
pulled down ihe house, and the parochial jealousy
respecting settlements is an ample check on the
influx of strangers."

Similar to the influence of the large system of
production in its displacement of labourers, as
enabling a larger quantity of work to be executed
by one establishment with a smaller number of
hands than would be required were the amount of
work to be divided into a number of smaller esta-
blishments,— similar to this mode of economizing
labour, is that mode of work which, by altering
the produce rather than the mode of production,
and by substituting an article that requires less
labour for one that required more, gets rid of a
large quantity of labour, and, consequently, adds to
the surplusage of labourers. An instance of this
it in the substitution of pasturage for tillage.
"Plough less and groM more^ says Sir J. Graham,
the great economist of labour, simply because
fewer people will be required to attend to the
land. But this plan of grazing instead of plough-
ing was adopted in this country some centuries
back, and with what effect to the Ubonrers and the
people at huge, the following extract from the
work of Mr. Thornton, on over-population, will
show : —

"The extension of the woollen manu&cture
was raising. the price of wool; and the little
attendance which sheep require was an additional
motive for causing sheep farming to be preferred
to tillage. Arable land, therefore, began to be
converted into pasture ; and the seemingly-inter-
minable com fields, which, like those of (Germany
at this day, probably extended for miles without
having their even surface broken by fences or
any other visible boundaries, disappeared. After
being sown with grass they were surrounded and
divided by inclosures, to prevent the sheep from
straying, and to do away with the necessity of
having shepherds always on the watch. By these
changes the quantity of work to be done upon a
farm was exceedingly diminished, and most of the
servants, whom it had been usual to board and
lodge in the manor and farm-houses, were dis-
missed. This was not all. The married farm-
servants were ousted from their cottages, which
were pulled down, and their gardens and fields
were annexed to the adjoining meadows. The
small &rmers were treated in the same way, as
their leases fell in, and were unt to join the daily
xncreating crowd qf competitors for work thai was
daily increasing in ^[uantity.

" Bven freeholders were in some instances ejected
from their lands. This social revolution had pro-

bably commenced even before the prosperity of
the peasantry had reached its climax; but in
1487 it attracted the notice of Parliament^ and
an Act was passed to restrain its progress; for
already it was observed that inclosures were be-
coming 'more frequent, whereby arable land,
which could not he manured withoul people and
families, was turned into pasture, which was
easily rid by a few herdsmen;* and that
'tenancies for years, lives, and at wUl, whereupon
most of the yeomanry lived, were turned into
demesnes**. In 1538 f. An act was passed
strongly condemning the practice of 'accumula-
ting' &rms, which it was dedared had reduced
'a marvellous multitude' of the people to poverty
and misery, and left them no alternative but to
steal, or to die 'pitifully' of cold and hunger.
In this Act it was stated that single fiirms might
be found with flocks of from 10,000 to 20,000
sheep upon them ; and it was ordained that no
man should keep more than 2000 sheep, except
upon his own land, or rent more than two
fiurms.

"Two years later it was enacted that the king
should have a moiety of the profits of land con-
verted (subsequently to a date specified) from
tillage to pastures, until a suitable house was
erected, and the land was restored to^tillage. In
1552, a law 4: was made which required that on
all estates as large a quantity of land as had
been kept in tillage for four years together at any
time since the accession of Henry YIII., should
be so continued in tillage. But these, and many
subsequent enactments of the same kind, had not
the smallest effect in checking the consolidation of
farms. We find Boger Ascham, in Queen Eliza-
beth's reign, himenting the dispersion of fiunilies,
the ruin of houses, the breaking^.up and destruc-
tion of 'the noble yeonuinry, the honour and
strength of BngUind.' Harrison also speaks of
towns pulled down for sheep-walks ; ' and of the
tenements that had fiillen either down or into the
lord's hands ; ' or had been ' brought and united
together by other men, so that in some one
manor, seventeen, eighteen, or twenty houses
were shrunk.' §

" 'Where have been a great many householders
and inhabitants,' says Bishop Latimer, ' there is
now but a shepherd and his dog.'H And in a
curious tract, published in 1581, by one William
Stafford, a husbandman is made to exclaim,
' Marry, these inclosures do [and undo us all, for
they make us pay dearer for our land that we
occupy, and causeth that we can have no land to
put to tillage ; all is taken up for pasture, either
for sheep or for grazing of cattle. Insomuch that I
have known of Ute a dozen ploughs, within less
compass than six miles about me, laid down
within this seven years; and where threescore
persons or upwards had their livings, now one
man, with his cattle, hath all. Those sheep is

* Lord Bacon's Hist, of King Henry VII., Works,
vol. V. p. 61.

i29th Henrv VIII. cap. 13.
5 dE 6 Edw. VI., cap. 5.
Eden's Hist, of the Poor, voL L p. 118.
Latimer*! Sennons, p. 100.

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LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR,

811

married coantry labourers, residing in their own
cottages, who were temporarily engaged, but it is
now the general body, married and unmarried, old
and young, with a few exceptions. Formerly the
farmer was bound to find work for six or twelve
months (for both terms existed) for his hired
labourers. If the land did not supply it, still the
man must be maintained, and be paid his full wages
when due. By such a provision, the labour and
wage of the hired husbandman were regular and
rarely casual; but this arrangement is now seldom
entered into, and the hired husbandman's labour
is conisequently generally casual and rarely regular.
Til if principle of hiring labourers only for so long
as they are wanted, as contradistinguidhod from
the " 'principU of natural cquil^y* spoken of by
Blackstone, which requires that '* the servant shall
serve ;>nd tlic ma»ter umintain him throughoui all
UtA rn'olntions qf Uie respective kosoiis, <u veil
vrhen tlurc u vorl- to be done ax vchcti t/tere w not^*'
has been the cause, perhaps, of more casual labour
and more Ipauperism and crime, in this country,
than, perhaps, any other of the antecedents before
mentioned. The harvest is now collected solely
by casual labourers, by a horde of squalid immi-
grants, or the tribe of natural and forced vagabonds
who arc continually begging or stealing their way
throughout the country; our hops are picked, our
fruit and vegetables gathered by the same pre-
carious bands — wTetches who, perhaps, obtain
tome three months' harvest labour in the course of
the year. The ships at our several ports are dis-
charged by the same ** casual fiaudf,'* who may be
Men ut our docks scrambling like hounds for the
occasional bit of bread that is vouchsafed to them ;
there immbers loiter throughout the day, even on
the chance of an hours erHjilotfrneat ; for the term
of hiring has been cut down to the fmest possible
limits, so that the labourer may not be paid for
even a second longer than he is wanted. And
aiuce ho gets only bare subsistence money when
employed, *' What," we sh(mld ask ourselves,
" mast be his lot when unemployed 1 "

I now come to consider the circumstances causing
an undue increase of the labourers in a country.
Thus far we have proceeded on the assumption
that Ijoth the quantity of work to be done and the
number of hands to do it remained stationar}-, and
we have seen that by the mere alteration of the
time, rate, and mode of working, a vast amount of
surplus, and, consequently, casual labour may be
induced in a community. We have now to ascer-
tain how, still assuming the quantity of work to
remain unaltered, the same cH'ect may be brought
about by au undue iticrease of the number of
labom-efs.

There are many means by which the number
of labourers may be increased besides that of a
positive increase of the people. These are —

1. By the undue increase of apprentices.

2. By drafting into the ranks of labour those
who should be otherwise engaged, as women and
children.

8. By the importation of labourers from abroad.
4. By the migration of country labooreis to

towns, and so overcrowding the market in the
cities.

5. By the depression of other trades.

6. By the undue increase of the people them-
selves.

Kach and every of the first-mentioned causes
are as effective a circumstance fur the promotion
of surplus labour, as even the positive extension
of the population of the country.

Let me begin with the undue increase of a
trade by means of apprentices.

This is, perhaps, one of the chief aids to the
cheap system. For it is principally by apprentice
labour that the better masters, as well as workmen,
are undersold, and the skilled labourer conse-
quently depressed to the level of the unskilled.
But the great evil is, that the cheapening of goodf
by this Mteans causes an undue iucreafe in the
trade. Tlie apprentices grow up and become la-
bourers, and so the trade is glutted with work-
men, and casual labour is the consequence.

This apprentice system is the great bane of the
printer's trade. Country printers take an undue
number of boys to help them cheap ; these ladi
grow up, and then, finding wages in the provinces
depressed thritugh this system of apprentice
labour, they flock to the towns, and so tend to
glut the labour market, and consequently to in-
crease the number of casual hands.

Ono cause of the incre<ised surplus and casual
libour in such trades as dressing-case, work-box,
writing-desk-making and other things in the fancy
cabinet trade (among the worst trades even in
S^italiields and Bethnal Green), shoemaking, and
especially of women and children's shoes, is the
taking of many apprentices by small masters (sup-
plying the great warehouses). As journey-work is
all but unknown in the slop fancy cabinet tmde, an
apprentice, when he has " served his time," must
start on his own account in the 8<ime wretched
way of business, or become a casual labourer in
some unskilled avocation, and this is one way in
which the hands surely, although f;radually, in-
crease bevond tbe demand. It is the same with
the general slop cabinetmaker's trade in the same
parts. The small masters supply the '* slaughter-
houses," the linen-drapers, kc, who sell cheap
furniture; they work in the quickest and most
scamping manner, and do more work (which is
nearly all done on the chance of sale), as they must
contine themselves to one branch. The slop chair-
makers cannot make tables, nor the slop table-makers,
chairs; nor the cheffonier and drawer-makers,
bedsteads; for they have not been taught. Even
if they knew the method, and could accomplish
other work, the want of practice would compel
them to do it slowly, and the slop mechanic can
never alford to work slowly. Such classes of little
masters, then, to meet the demand for low-priced
furniture, rear their sons to the business, and fre-
quently take apprentices, to whom they pay small
amounts. The hands so trained (as in the former
instances) are not skilled enough to work for the
honourable trade, so that they can only adopt the
course pursued by their parents, or masters, before
them. Hence a n^id, although again gradual,

;j2

Loyjjoy LAiiOuii asd the loxdos poor.

'iu't*tK%»- f,{ •'irjilm handu; or h«:rice a r*-fort to
h'.ti.". ij;iftk:i:"<i laboiir, Vt be wroufrht casual!;.'.
1 fi><i ii.i;i;.*-;.« Vfi, hut in a ftinai!«r fie;(r«f-, in trades
whi'Ji ar- i;'.t »i'<p, from th«s Mm« U4Uft«t. Con-
rt'tu.i.'/ l\,f tf^,j,iinft'f. fy.'ffta in the boot and iboe
If.i'l*', w;.«Mi luakinx i«y if.q«iri<M into tt.e con-
diti'.n of th<- London workmen, I received the
folio"Ali,;f •ita!«-ni«'nt«: -

" My • HI {/oyer had eevirn Apprentice! when I
was vviih him; of thf!-.*', two were pariah appron-
li«**ii 1 1 wat» oil!-;, and th«* oth«T live from the
J^•fll)f«• h't ihii lil•^titllt«% at Hozton. With each
il<-fii;o' hi,y he n*ti .*>/. and three Kiiit« of clothes,
and a kit (ioo|i>;. With thf pariiih boys of (.'ovent-
ff.irdi II and St. Andrew's, Holboni, he got 5i.
and two MiitH of clothes, reckoning what the 1>oy
wore iiH one. My employer was a jounieyman,
niid by having all us boys he was able^ii get up
work viry rln-ap, though he received good wages
for it. We boyit had no allowance in money, only
board, lodging', and clothing. The bosird was
middling, lh<; lodging was too, and tlure was
nothing to complain about in the chithing. lie
wui Ni'vere in the way of Hogging. I nut away
six tiiiiiN mykelt, but was forced to go bjick again,
111 I had no money and no friend in the world.

Whin I rn>l ran away I complained to Mr.

till* nlagi^tratl•, and he wiu going to give me six
weeka. lli> Miid it would do me good; but Mr.
iiil'-rfiTi-d, and I wa.H let go. I don't
know what he was going to give me six weeks fur,
uiiloM it was tor having a black eye that my
niasler had given me with the stirrup. Of the
N'vni only one served his time out. He let me
oil" two yrarrt before my time was up, as wo
oiuMn'l aciei'. Tin- miMcliicf of tnking ^o many
ap|>iiMi(ur*> iH ihiN*. Till' niaslrr gi-ts money with
tlinii tVoiii till' p.iri.ih. and can feed them much as
he liki-5 an to ipialiiy and quantity : and if they
run aw.iy noun, the ma.Ntor'» none the wor^e, fur
he '> i:i<t th«' nmncy ; and >o bo\ > are sent out to
tiiiu \.i;i.iiil<t when they run away, as .<«Ui-h boys
ha\e no tiiei.dH. Of ui hvM'U boys [At the wages
our cniplovrr i;«»t^ one could earn ll»*'., another
l.*»«.. aiii'liiiT rj.<., another \0;f., and the lest not
le>H ihan >... f.ich. t-ir all \\»»rked Mxteen hours
a da\ -that's -I.". ^•. a work b>r the seven, «»r
*.*".'.'•. l«'.'. a vr.ir. You must recollect 1 reckon
ill!- fu n. .ul\ the bej»t v\ajies in the women's
lt.»d«' Mv euipli'vei ViMi ni.iy c.iM a ^vveat(T. and
Ik* iv.idi' nu!u\ t.i>c. tloM'.jih he drank a good deal.
We .v'.d.»sn >av\ hiin whrn ho was drunk: but he
a':.-' piuh i:it.» u* when l.e v\a< gctlirj; sober,
l.»>.«k !j»'\\ r.iN'.'.y >iuh a \\\,x:\ wiiii apprentice* can
uiulr'.M*". vilsirs wlu'ii he wan:* to work a* clu-ap
aa p.'-i-sr.e Lr the »;rca: >'.op warrhouscs. Ti.iv
•..-.ve !:.ibou:.»!»l;<!* so chiao that o!t cuoUi:h i: "s
s:a!vai: n wa..«* lor the >.i:v.e >hop$ '

A'.vM to :':.. >v*U".n i-i" u* n»: a large luimVor of
a:; to!?\-. * :* IIM ot' . ."..••.'" .••* •.•.■.' %•• .'-•
to .:•>'.;, 0 tho v\,-.k vi u;c!:. at ;ho *.c** laKruu*
•j .■.'.:'» . ! :'..• ti.;.:o.

** i: •» •;•. . .: .0. " *.i:.l .; w^r'*:::^ >';-.ocvakcr t.^
*.'•.•. • t a:. •.;..l»;'»::J..; : ol .ipriouf.ce*. -.i.' aid:-
: •:•.'. '. a"..i> .».o .v.Mvxl to st-.r al;<:.»»*v over-

the use cf Uie knife. Plenty of poor men vill
o:Ter to fir.isb then for a pound and a month's
work; and men, for a few shillings and a few
weeks* work, will teach other boys to sew. There
are many of the wives of chamber-masten teach
girls entirely to make children's work for a pound
and a few months' work, and there are many in
13ethnal-green who have learnt the business in this
way. These teach some other members of their
families, and then actually set up in business in
opposition to those who taught them, and in
cutting oifer their work for sale at a much lowvr
nite of protit; and shopkeepers in town and
country, having circulars sent to solicit custom,
will have their goods from a warehouse that will
serve them cheapest; then the warehouseman will
have them cheap from the manufacturer; and he
in his turn cuts down the wages of the work*
people, who fear to refuse offers at the warehouse
price, knowing the low rate at which chamber-
masters will serve the warehouse."

As in all trades where lowness of wages is the
rule, the boy system of labour prevails among the
cheap cabinet-workers. It prevails, however, among
the garret-masters, by very many of them havmg
one, two, three or four youths to help them, and
so the number of boys thus employed through the
whole trade is considerable. This refers prin-
cipally to the general cabinet trade. In the &icy
tnide the number is greater, as the boys' labour
is more readily avaihible ; but in this trade the
greatest number of apprentices is employed by
such warehouK'mcn as sire manufacturers, as some
at the P^ast end are, or rather by the men that
they constantly keep at work. Of tliese men, one
has now eight and another fourteen boys in his
r^ervice, some apprenticed, some merely " engaged"
and di*chaigealile at pleasure. A sharp boy, in
six or eight months, becomes " handy ; " but four
out of five of the workmen thus brought up can
do nothing well but their own particular liranch,
and that only well %is far as celerity in production
is considered.

It is these boys who' are put to make, or as
a master i^f the better class disiingnished to me,
not to mult but to put together, ladiea* work-
boxis at >.f. a piece, the boy receiving '2\:f.
a box. 'Such loxes,' said another workman,
' are nailed together ; tht re "s no dove-tailing,
nothing of w hat I caU .:\ r.< . cr WL>rkmanship, as
you sax , au -i;: ihi-in, but t:;e deal *s nailed tc-geiher,
and the veneer *s dabbed en, and it the deal 's
covered, why tho thiiu' pa£>ei. The worst of it
is, that pe»«p'.e don't understand either go.^d work
cr gocd w 1 od. Fiiish :ht in up and they 1 jck
vve'.l. Besides - ai:d ;>a: '» .ii.other bad i:ii:c. for
it t:'ic> vintjTt-s lad w :k--t;:trc 's i;^ stress on a
lady's w. taI x, .is on .i c'r.air cr a s.:a, and so
badw.r'N '..!»:* :.ir too i.: j. :::.':^-h m-t half so

.::,: a* cc.u: :::
r.ccrs. '

To *. c'-. a pile

*..:*is e?iev:.\..y, it r..t la ve-
il is this

r.»wi' vc.cv.

>.w:!-j:

Iv-

v# socn .car:;

iin-.-^ni t.r children's
varr.evi. :'r Jt i": „■ re :* a CArkct ir. Bethr.al-
;i\: . v»'e:t l- \i ard .:irls *«i.:.i twice a work
0 Ic 'r.-.red s.* ':.: v>r4 and s^T^tr*. Hrrce :: will
e cas:lv •wriicrsu d :'2a: ;: :s :r.zvss;"Ll-' fvr the

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

818

•killed mnd grown artizan to compete with the
Uboar of mere children, who are thus literallj
brought into the market to nndenell him !

Oonceming this market for boyt and girls, in
Bethnal-green, I received, daring mj inquiries
into the boot and shoe trade, the following state-
ments from shopkeepers on the spot : —

"Mr. H has lived there sixteen years.

The market-days are Honday and Tuesday morn-
ings, from seven to nine. The ages of persons
who assemble there vary from ten to twenty, and
they are often of the worst character, and a de-
cideded nuisance to the inhabitants. A great
many of both sexes congregate together, and most
market days there are three females to one male.
They consist of sewing boys, shoe-binders, winders
for weavers, and girls for all kinds of slop needle-
work, fprls for domestic work, nursing children,
&c. No one can testify, for a &ct, that they (the
females) are prostitutes; bnt, by their general
conduct, they are fit for anything. The market,
•ome years since, was held at the top of Abbey-
street; but, on account of the nuisance, it was
removed to the other end of Abbey-street. When
the schools were built, the nuisance became so
intolerable that it was removed to a railway arch
in White-street, Bethnal-green. There are two
policemen on market mornings to keep order, but
my informant says they require four to maintain
anything like subjection."

But family work, or the conjoint iahour of a
workman*g wife and children, is an equally exten-
aive cause of surplus and casual labour.

A small master, working, perhaps, upon goods
to be supplied at the lowest rates to wholesale
warehousemen, will often contribute to this result
by the way in which he brings up his children.
It is less expensive to him to teach them his own
bnsineu, and he may even reap a profit from their
labour, than to have them brought up to some
other calling. I met with an instance of this in
an inquiry among the toy-makers. A maker of
common toys brought up five children to his own
trade, for boys and girls can be made useful in
such labour at an early age. His business fell off
rapidly, which he attributed to the great and
numerous packages of cheap toys imported from
Germany, Holland, and France, after the lower-
ing of the duty by Sir Robert Peel's tariff! The
chief profit to the toy-maker was derived from the
labour, as the material was of trifling cost He
found, on the change in his trade, that he could
not employ all his &mily. His fellow tradesmen,
he said, were in the same predicament ; and thus
•nrplui hands were created, so leading to casualty
in labonr.

" The system which has, I believe, the worst
effect on the women's trade in the boot and shoe
bnsineu thronghout England is," I said in the
Morning Chronicle, "chamber-mastering. There
are between 800 and 400 chamber-masters. Com-
monly the man has ^wife, and three or four chil-
dren, ten years old or upwards. The wife cuts
out the work for the binders, the husband does
the knife-work, the children sew with uncommon

rapidity. The husband, when the work is finished
at night, goes out with it, though wet and cold,
and perhaps hungry — his wifs and children wait-
ing his return. He returns sometimes, having
sold his work at cost price, or not cleared Is. 6d.
for the day's labour of himself and family. In
the winter, by this means, the shopkeepers and
warehouses can take the advantage of the cham-
ber^master, buying the work at their own price.
By this means luiberdashers' shops are supplied
with boots, shoes, and slippers; they can sell
women's boots at It. 9d, per pair ; shoes, 1«. Sd,
per pair ; children's, 6(2., Sd., and 9d. per pair,
getting a good profit, having bought them of the
poor chamber-master for almost nothing, and he
glad to sell them at any price, kte at night, his
children wanting bread, and he having walked
about for hours, in vain trying to get a fair price
for them; thus, women and children labour as
well as husbands and fathers, and, with their
combined kbours, they only obtain a miserable
living."

The labour of the wife, and indeed the whole
family — fiimily work, as it is called— is attended
with the same evil lo a trade, introducing a large
supply of fresh hands to the kbour market, and
so tending to glut with workpeople each trade
into which they are introduced, and thus to
increase the casual labour, and decrease the earn-
ings of the whole.

" The only means of escape from the inevitable
poverty," I said in the same letters, "which
sooner or later overwhelms those in connection
with the cheap shoe trade, seems to the workmen
to be by the employment of his whole fiimily as
soon as his children are able to be put to the
trade — and yet this only increases the very de-
pression that he seeks to avoid. I give the state-
ment of such a man residing in the suburbs of
London, and working with three girls to help
him : —

" * I have known the business,' he said, ' many
years, but was not brought up to it. I took it up
because my wife's father was in the trade, and
taught me. I was a weaver originally, but it is
a bad business, and I have been in this trade
seventeen years. Then I had only my wife and
myself able to work. At that time my wife and
I, by hard work, could earn 1/. a week ; on the
same work we could not now earn 12i. a week.
As soon as the children grew old enough the
falling off in the wages compelled us to put them
to work one by one — as soon as a child could
make threads. One began to do that between
eight and nine. I have had a large family, and
with very hard work too. We have had to lie
on stnw oft enough. Now, three daughters, my
wife, and myself work together, in chamber-
mastering ; the whole of us may earn, one week
with another, 28i. a week, and out of that I have
eight to support Out of that 28i. I have to pay
for grindery and candles, which cost me It. a
week the year through. I now make children's
shoes for the wholesale houses and anybody.
About two years ago I travelled from Thomas-
street, Bethnal-green, . to Oxford-street, "on the

su

LOXDOy LABOUR ASD TUE L0XD02T POOR,

Ijawk." I then positively had nothing in my in- ; tandt of children now ilAving at tlii* biiiiueu.

biWe, yn(i in iiulburn I bad to U*au ngain^it a "

iiiiiLv, t!ii'oui,'h \i'cakne;<3 i'roui hunger. 1 was

CMni]>''li«'d. as I could sell nuihiiig at that end ot

tliH town, to walk down Ut Whitechapcl at ten at

u'vili:. I went into a 8ho]) near .Mile-ond turn

There's the M "s; they have a family of

eight, nnd the youngest to the oldest of all works
at the bench ; and the oldest ain't fourteen. I 'm
sure, of tlie 25<M> small masters in the cabinet
line, you may eafely say that 2000 of thtrm, at

pikt', nnd the same articles (children's patent ■ the vm- ]t>a>t, has irom tive to six in family^ and

ieatlii r jilioesj th;it 1 rt.*c«'ivcd 8*. a dozen for
from th<' whu'osalt! huiiacs. I was compelltrd to
soil to th<! >li(»iikt:. por Un' tJ.-. Od, This is a very
frcciiH'iit ciisr- vt-ry frequent — with persons cir-
cumiitanced an I nni, nnd »o trade is injured and
only bi>ini> haid n:im gains by it.' "

lf«'ii' i.4 the suitcnient of a worker at "fancy
cabini't ' work on the same mbject : —

" Tlii^ nio>t on us h:i5 got large families. We
put the cijildu-n to work a« soon as we can. My

that's I'./nvuin'i: itf 12,000 cKUdren. tJiat's 1*ttii,
put tit the trudt since jiviccs Inis comi t/oir/i.
Twenty years ago I don't think there was a child
at work in our business ; and I am sure there is
not a small ma-ster now whose whole family doesn't
assi-st him. But what I want to know i^, what's
to become of the 1*2,000 children when they 're
growed up. and come regular into the trade i
Here are all my young ones growing up without

J being taught anything but a business that I know
lilth" girl bi'gan about six, but about eight or nine | they must starve at."
in ih<; uMial ngf." " (M, jioor littU t/unt/s,*' said j In answer to my inquiry as to what dependence
//" "//i. 'W/vvu/t' ohliijtd tu iiUfui, tkt I'ti'jviiiiult' j he had in case of sickness, "Uh, bless you," he
tiii<i oin I'm //itt'r jin(/t!i'g at all.'* "The must of I said, "there 's nothing but the parish for us. I
the ciibimt-niakers of the I-Jast end have from five j did lielong to a Henelit Society about four years
to six in family, and thoy are generally all at ! ago, but 1 couldn't keep up my payment* any
work for thtiu. The small masters mostly marry i longer. I was in the society above five-and-
when they are turned of 2C^ You see our trade's twenty year, and then -wtis obliged to leave it
coming to 6uoii a pass, that unless a man has . after all. I don't know of ono as belongs to
childri.-n to help him he c.in't live at all. / 'tv | any Friendly Society, and I don't think there is
iroiiid niuix thun a Moitth toffdkcr, and t/v \ a man as can alTord it in our trade now. They
lnnt/''.U iti'jJd's rtftrci had has lua an hoar and \ must all go to the workhouse when they're sick
a ijt'KiiUr ; aj,\ and Ice I'On up Uu\e n'njhts a j or old."

tnth h,sid<.<. Ive had my children lying ill, I The following is from a journeyman tailor, con-
and bet'u obligt-d to wait on them into the bar- I ccniing the employment of women in his tnidc : —

gain. Y«iu see, we couldn't live if it wasn't fi»r
the labour of i.nr children, though it makes 'em —
poor liiile things ! — old people long afore they are
grow 4-1 1 iij)."

'* Why. I stDod at tliis bench.'' .«aid the wife.

*' When I tirst began working at this branch,
there were but very few females emploj'ed in it : a
few white waistcoats were given out to them, under
the idea that women would make them cle.iner than
men — nnd so indeed they can. But since the last

'•' with my c.ii'.d, only ten years of age, from four '• live years the sweaters have employed females
o'cli'ck on Friday niDrninir till ti-n nunutes p;ist . upon chith, Kilk, and satin waistcoats as well, and
seven in the exening, without a bit to eat or j before that time the idea of a woman makings

cloth waistcoat would have been scnuto-J. IJut

drink. I nev»'r sat down a nunut<* from the
lime I lienan till I linisiu-d my w«»rk, and then I i
wont out to sell what I had done, i walktsi all j
t!ie way from here [Sh«»reditch | down to tlie i
Lowther Arcade, to get rid of the articlcji." '
JIm' .«/«.• A'fr.t< out in. a rioUnf jIvhI ff ttan, .
fti'ii.x'l, "ilh,fit\ it i.i l.ard U> A.' of'h)/td tn la- i
h-inr jiu.n „i.,rni>ii/ till ui'jht as v.y do, all of liSy .
littl.. i.ii.-.t and all, and i/it not he alL to lice If/ \
itiit/n.-r " ' I

*' And you ?ee the worst of it is, this here
children's lal).)ur is of such value now in our !
trade, that there 's more brought into the business
every year, so tiiat it 's realiy fv)r all the world
liW '.ri-di.hf ydut:.^. Without my children I
dfoi't know how we j^hould be able to cet along."
" Tiiere 'jt that little thing," siid the man, pointing
to tlie uirl ten years of age before aliuiied to, as
she sal at the etlge of the bed, " why she works
reiiularly every diy from ^ix in the morning till
ten at i.i^'ht. She never goes to ?choi»l. We
can't sparo her. There 's schools en«iugh about
here h>r a jvnny a week, but we could not atVord
to Lh;> her without workimr. If I 'd ten more

since the increase of the pufting and the sweating
system. m:usters and sweaters have sought every-
where for such hands as would do the work below
the regular nne:^. Hence the wife has been made
to compete with the husband, and the daughter
with the wife : they all learn the waistcoat busi-
ness, and must all get a living. If the man will
not reduce the price of his labour to that of the
female, why he )nust remain unemployed ; and if
the full-gr.)wn woman will not take the work at
the pame piice as the young girl, why sl»e must
remain without any. The female hands, I can
confidently state, have been sought out and intro-
duced to the business by the sweaters), from a
desire on their part continually to ferret out hands
who will d'» the work cheaper than otlier*. The
eifect that this continual reduction has had upon
me is this : Before the year lS4-t I could live com-
fortahly, and kiep my wife and children »I had
live in family) by my own la'oour. My wife then
attended to her domestic and family duties : bat
since that time, owing to the reduction in prices,
she has been compelled to resort to her needle, as

childnn I should lie obliged to employ them all | well as myself, for her living." [On the table
the s;ime nay, and there's hundreds and thou- ! was a bundle of crape and bombazine ready to be

LO^DOX LABOUR AND^UE LONDON POOR.

815

made np into a dren.] ** I cannot aiford now to
let her remain idle — that is, if I with to live, and
keep my children out of the streeLs, and pay my
way. .My wife's earnings are, npon an averajfe,
8*. per week. She makes dresses. I never
would teach her to mnkc waistconts, because I
knew the introduction of fenuilc bands had been
the ruin of my trade. With the labonr of myself
and wife now I can only e:irn 32j. a week, and
six years ago I could make my *6(js. If I had a
dauj,'hter I should be obliged to nmke her work
as wel!, and then probably, with the labour of
the three of us, we could make up at the week's
end as much money, as, up to 1844, I could }(et
by my own single hands. Hy wife, since she
took to dressmaking, has become sickly from over-
exenion. Her work, and her domestic and
family duties altogether, are too much for her.
Last night I was np all night with her, and was
compelled to call in a female to attend lier as well.
The over-exertion now necessary for us to main-
tain :i decent appearance, has »o ruined her con-
stitution that she is not the same woman as she
was. In fact, ill as she is, she has been compelled
to rise from her bod to finish a mourning-dress
against time, and I myself have been obliged to
give her a helping-hand, and tura to at M-omen's
work in the same manner as the women are
taming to at men's work.**

** The cause of the lerious decrease in our
trade," said another tailor to me, " is the employ-
ment given to workmen at their own homes ; or,
in other words, to the * sweaters.' The sweater
is the greatest evil to us ; as the sweating system
increases the number of hands to an almost in-
credible extent — wires, sons, daughters, and
extra women, all working ' long days ' — that is,
labouring from sixteen to eighteen hours per day,
and Sundays as well. I date the decrease in
the wages of the workman from the introduction
of piece-work and giving out garments to be
made off the premi.^es of the master ; for the effect
of this was, that the workman making the gar-
ment, knowing that the master could not tell
whom he got to do his work for hifn, employed
women and children to help him, and paid them
little or nothing for their labour. This was the
beginning of the sweating system. The workmen
gradually became transformed from jounieymen
into ' middlemen,' living by the labour of others.
Employers sonn began to iind that they could get
garments made at a less sum than the regular
price, and those tradesmen who were anxious to
force their trade, by underselling their more
honoarable neighbours, readily availed themselves
of this means of obtaining cheap labour. The
eonse^uence was, that the sweater sought out
where he could get the work done the cheapest,
and to introduced a fresh stock of hands into the
trade. Femak labour, of course, could be had
cbeaper than male, and the sweater readily
aTailed himself of the service* of women on that
account. Hence the males who had former^
been employed upon the garments were thrown
oat of work by the females, and obliged to remain
unemployed, unless they would reduce the price

of tlieir work to that of the women. It cannot,
therefore, be said that the reduction of prices
originally arose from there having been more
workmen than there was work for them to do.
There was no superabundance of hands until
female 'labour was generally introduced — and
even if the workmen had increased 25 per cent,
more than what they were twenty years back, still
that extra number of hands wouhl be required now
to make the same number of garments, owing to
the work put ijito each article being at least one-
fourth moro than formerly. So far from the trade
I being over-stocked with male hands, if the work
I were contined to the men or the masters* premises,
there would not be sutficicnt hands to do the
whole."

According to the last Census (1S41, G.B.),
out of a population of 18,720,000 the proportions
of the people occupied and unoccupied were as
follows: —

Occupied .... 7,800,000

Unoccupied (including women
and children) , . . . 10,920,000

Of those who were occupied the following were
the proportions : —

Engaged in productive employ-
mento* 5,350,000

Engaged in non-produetiTe em-
ploymenu .... 2,450,000

Of those who were engaged in productive em-
ployments, the proportion (in round numbers)
ran as follows : —

Men 3,785,000

Women 660,000

Boys and girls . . . 905,000

Here, then, we find nearly one-fifth, or 20 per

cent., of our producers to be boys and girls, and

upwards of 10 per cent, to be women. Such was

the suite of things in 1841. In order to judge of

the possible and probable condition of the labour

market of the country, if this introduction of

women and children into the ranks of the

labourers be persisted in, let us see what were

the proportions of the 10,920,000 men, women,

and children who ten years ago still remained

unoccupied among us. The ratio was as follows: —

Men .... 275,000

Women .... 3,570,000

Boys and girls . . . 7,075,000

Here the unoccupied men are about 5 per cent
of the whole, the children neariy two-thirds, and
the wives about one-third. Now it appears that
out of say 19,000,000 people, 8,000,000 were, in
1841, occupied, and by far the greater number,
11,000,000, unoccupied.

Who were the remaining eleven millions, and
what Were they doing! They, of coarse, con-
sisted principally of the unemployed wives and
children of the eight millions oi people before
specified, three millions and a half of the number

* I have here included thoae^ enmed In Trade and
Commerce, and empkiyert as well m the employed
[the,

\

816

LONDOy LABOUR AND THB LONDON POOR.

I

being females of twenty yean of age and upwardt,
and seren millions being children of both sexes
under twenty. Of these children, four millions,
according to the '* age abstract/' were under ten
years, so that we may fisirly assume that, at the
time of taking the last census, ihert wrs xtry
nearly ttven miUianM qf trivet and childreti of a
teorkabU aae ttUl unoccupied. Let us suppose,
then, that these seven millions of people are brought
in competition with the five million producers.
What is to be the consequence 1 If the labour
market be overstocked at present with only five
millions of people working for the support of
nineteen millions (I speak according to the Census
of 1841), what would it be if another seven
millions were to be dragged into iti And if
wages are low now, and employment is preca-
rious on account of this, what will not both work
and pay sink to when the number is again in-
creased, and the people clamouring for employment
are at least treble what they are at present? When
the wife has been taught to compete for work with
the husband, and son and daughter to undersell
their own father, what will be the state of our
labour market then?

But the labour of wives, and children, and
apprentices, is not the only means of glutting a
particular trade with hands. There is another
system becoming every day more popular with our
enterprising tradesmen, and this is the importation
of foreign labourers. In the cheap tailoring this
is mode a regular practice. Cheap labour is regu-
larly imported, not only from Ireland (the wives
of sweaters making visits to the Emerald Isle for
the express purpose), but small armies of working
tailors, ready to receive the lowest pittance, are
contimially being shipped into this country. That
this is no exaggeration let the following state-
ment prove: —

** I ara a native of Peslh, "having left Hungary
about ei){ht years ago. By the custom of the
country I was compelled to travel three years in
f«)roign parts, before I could settle in my native
place, i went to Paris, after travelling about in
tlie different countries of Germany. I stayed in
Paris about two years. My father's wish was
th.1t I should visit England, and I came to London
in Juno, 1847. I first worked for a West end show
shop — not ilirerfh/ for them — but through the
person who is their middleman getting work done
at what rates he could for the firm, and obtaining
the prices they allowed for making the garments.
I once worked four days and a half for him,
finding my own trimmings, &c., for 9a. For this
my employer would receive Vis. 6d. He then
employed 190 hands; he /mm employed 300.
Many of those so employed set their wives,
children, and others to work, some employing as
many as five hands this way. The middleman
keeps his carriage, and will give fifty guineas for
a horse. I became unable to work from a pain
in my back, from long sitting at my occupation.
The doctor told me not to sit much, and so, as a
countryman of mine was doing the same, I em-
plojred bandB, making the best I could of their

labour. I have now four young women (all Irish
girls) so employed. Last week one of them re-
ceived is., another is. 2d., the other two 6i. each.
They find their board and lodging but I find
them a place to work in, a small room, the rent of
which I share with another tailor, who works on
his own account There are not so many Jews
come over from Hungary or Germany as from
Poland. The kw of travelling three years brings
over many, but not more than it did. The revo-
lutions have brought numbers this year and last
They are Jew tailors flying from Russian and
Prussian Poland to avoid the conscription. I never
knew any of these Jews go back again. There
is a constant communication among the Jevs, and
vKen their friends in Poland, and other places,
learn they are eafe in England, and in wort and
out of trouble, they come over loo. I wn-ted as a
Journeyman in Pesth, and got 2s. 6d. a teeet, my
board and cashing, and lodgiwf, for my labour.
We lived well, everything being so cheap. The
Jews come in the greatest number about Easter.
They try to work their way here, most of them.
Some save money here, but they never go back;
if they leave England it is to go to America."

The labour market of a particular place, how-
ever, comes to be overstocked with hands, not
only from the introduction of an inordinate number
of apprentices and women and children into the
trade, as well as the importation of workmen from
abroad, but the same effect is produced by the
migration of country labourers to towns. This,
as I have before said, is specially the caae in the
printer's and carpenter's trades, where the cheap
provincial work is executed chiefly by apprentices,
who, when their time is up, flock to the principal
towns, in the hopes of getting better wages than can
be obtained in the country, owing to the prevalence
of the apprentice system of work in those parts.
The London carpenters suffer greatly from what
are called " improvers," who come up to town to
get perfected in their art, and work for little or no
wages. The work of some of the large houses is ex-
ecuted mainly in this way; that of Mr. Myers was,
for instance, against whom the men lately struck.

But the unskilled labour of towns suffers far
more than the skilled from the above cause.

The cmploymcTit of unskilled labourers in
towns is being constantly rendered more casual
by the migrations from the country piirts. The
peasants, owing to the insuflficicncy of thi*ir
wages, and the wretchedness of their dwellings
and diet, in Wilts, Somerset, Dorset, and else-
where, leave their native places without regret,
and swell the sum of unskilled labour in towns.
This is shown by the increase of population far
beyond the excess of births over deaths in those
counties where there are large manufe«turing or
commercial towns; whilst in purely agricultural
counties the increase of population does not keep
pace with the excess of births. '* Thus in Lan-
cashire,'* writes Mr. Thornton, in his work on
Over-Population, *' the increase of the population
in the ten years ending in 1841, was 330,210,
and in Cheshire, 60,919; whilst the excess of

ONE OF THE FEW REMAINING CLIMBING SWEEPS.

IFrom a Daguerreotype by BrARD.1

i

:■ i

LONDON LABOUR AND THK LONDON POOR.

317

births waa only 150,150 in the former, and
28,000 in the latter. In particular towna the
contrast is still more striking. In Lirerpool and
Bristol tho annual deaths actually exceed the
births, 80 that these towns are only saved from
depopulation by their rural recruits, yet the first
increased the number of its inhabitanU in ten
years by more than one-third, and the other by
more than one-sixth. In Manchester, the annual
excess of births could only have added 19,390
to the population between 1831 and 1841 ; the
actiml increase was 68,375. The number of emi-
grants (immigrants) into Birmingham, during the
same period, may, in the same way, be estimated
at 40,000 ; into Leeds, at 8000 ; into the me-
tropolis, at 130,000. On the other hand, in
Dorset, Somerset, and Devon, the actual addition
to the population, in the same decennial period,
was only 15,491, 31,802, and 39,253 respectively;
although the excess of births over deaths in the^
same counties waa about 20,000, 38,600, and'
48,700."

The unskilled labour market suffers, again, from
the depression of almost any branch of skilled
labour; for whatever branch of labour be de-
pressed, and men so be deprived of a sufficiency
of employment, one especial result ensues — the
unskilled labour market is glutted. The skilled
labourer, a tailor, for instance, may be driven to
work for the wretched pittance of an East end

slop- tailor, but he cannot "turn his hand" to any
other description of skilled labour. He cannot
say, " I will make billiard-tables, or bookcases,
or boots, or razors ;" so that there is no resource
for him^nt in unskilled labour. The Spit;ilfields
weavers have often sought dock labour ; the
turners of the same locality, whose bobbins were
once in great demand by the silk-winders, and
for the fringes of upholsterers, have done the
same ; and in this way the increase of casual
labour increases the poverty of the poor, and so
tends directly to the increase of pauperism.

We have now seen what a vast number of sur-
plus labourers may be produced by an extension
of time, rate, or mode of working, as well as by
the increase of the hands, by other means than
by the increase of die pioph themselves. If, how-
ever, we are increasing our workers at a greater
rate than we are increasing the means of work,
the excess of workmen must, of course, remain
unemployed. But are we doing thisi

Let us test tho matter on the surest data. In
the first instance let us estimate the increase of
population, both according to the calculations of
the late Mr. Rickman and the returns of the seve-
ral censuses. The first census, I may observe, was
taken in 1801, and has been regularly continued
at intervals of ten years. The table first given
refers to th* population of England and Wales : —

1

[NCREASB IN THE POPULATION OF ENGLAND AND WALES.

Years.

Population,
Engknd and Wales.

Numerical Increase.

Increase
Cent.

Annual
Increase
percent.

If

•1570

4,038,879

&4

1600

4,811,718

772.889

19

0-6

si

■ §

1630

5,601.517

789,799

16

0-5

cri

1670

5,773,646

172,129

3

0-08

f"

g

1700

6,045,003

271,362

5

0-2

is

z

1750

6,517,035

472,027

8

0-2

tl801

8.892,536

2,875,501

87

0-7

1811

10,164,068

1,271,532

14

1-4

«"!.

1821

11,999,322

1,835,250

18

1-8

i ^

11

1831

13,896,707

1,897,475

16

1-6

o •£;

1^

1841

15,914,148

1,982,489

14

1-4

<

1851

17,922,768

1,968,341

13

1-3

* The amount of the popalatkm
here Kiren, in copied from Rickman'
by the Registrar-General.

from 1570 to 172A, as
s tables, as publithed

t The population at the decennial term* ai here given,
is the amended calculation of the Registrar-General, as
given in the new census tables.

INCREASE IN THE

POPULATION OP SCOTLAND.

Years

iwiaiion.

Nmnerieal

Increase

Annual
Increase

j

Scotland.

Increase.

pet Cent.

per Cent.

^^

•1755

1,265,380

•so

+1801

1,608,420

343,040

27

0-6

1811

1,805,864

197,444

12

1-3

>*2

1821 ■

2,091,512

285.657

16

1-6

iSS .

1 §3

1831

2,364,386

272.865

13

1-3

i«ss

IIa

1841

2,620,184

255,798

11

1-1

^

<

1851

2,870,784

245,237

10

10

* Prom rstuns furnished hy the dergy.

t The returns here cited arecopled Arom those given
I by the Registrar-General in the new census.

\

S18

LONDON LABOUR AND TEN LONDON POOR,

INCRBASB IN THB POPULATION OF IRBLAND.

XuiDCiicttl laemw

Afiniii]E*t«

1 wrr

Pofwlatian,

»i4Dtc»iR.

tnatMt

ot lacnue

InUDd,

mdl^Kf^tm

md Deercuc

B

b ^

ptxCttnu

pcf Lent

it

"^S

1731'

2,010,221

175*^

2,372,634

t 362,413

+19 1

it

1767

2,fi44,27d

+ 171,642

+ f

1777

2,flB0,55fl

t 148,280

t6

^ 1^

1785

2,845,^32

t 155,378

+ 6

»|

1788

4,040,000

tl,194,0«S

t*a

1 09

=11

IBoy

5,S95,45fl

11,355,468

t84

1813*

6,937,858

+ 542,402

tio

g 2

182f

8,801,827

t 883,989

fn

+1'4

1^ s*

1831

7,767,401

t 065,574

+14

fis

^00

is^

1841

8,175,124

t 407,723

+ 6

+ '6

^

1851

8,516,794

•1,659,330

•20

•1-8

■ Retunu obtained through an inquiry instituted by I • Neweobam*! Inqulrr into the Population of Ireland,

the Iriih Houw of Lords. I * Eitimate fkom incomplete oenioi.

k The population from 17M-178B is estimated from the I • First complete census.
'* hearth money " returns. |

INCREASE IN THE POPULATION OP THE UNITED KINGDOH.

Years.

1821
1881
1841
1851

Population.

Numerical
Increaie.

20,892,670
24,028,584
26,709,456
27,809,846

3,185,914

2,680,872

599,890

Decennial
Increase
per Cent.

15
11

1-4
11
0-2

Diicfurding, then, all conjectural results, and ad-
hering solely to the rctunis of the censuses, we
find that, accoFdini^ to the official numbcrings of
the people throughout the hingdom, the increased
rate of population is, in round numbers, 10 per
cent, every ten years ; that is to say, where 100
persons were living in the United Kingdom in
1S21. there are 130 living in the present year
of 1851. The average increase in England and
Wales for the last 50 years may, however, be
said to be 1*5 per cent, per annum, the popuUtion
having doubled itself during that period.

How, then, does this rate of increase among the
people, and consequently the labourers and artizans
of the country, correspond with the rate of in-
crease in the production of commodities, or, in
plain English, the mi>ans of employment] This
is the main inquiry.

The only means of determining the total amount
of commodities produced, and consequently the
quantity of work done in the country, is from offi-
cial returns, submitted to the Parliament and the
public as part of the '' revenue" of the kingdom.
These afford a broad and accurate basis for the
necessary statistics; and to get rid of any specu-
lating or calculating on the subject, I will confine
my notice to such commodities ; giving, however,
further information bearing on the subject, but
still derived from official sources, so that there
may be no doubt on the matter. The facts in
connection with this part of the subject are ex-
hibited in the table given in the next page.

The majoritj of the articles there specified
supply the elements of trade and manufisctore in
furnishing the materials of our clothing, in all its
appliances of decency, comfort, and luxury. The
table relates, moreover, to our commerce with
other countries — to the ships which find profitable
employment, and give such employment to our
people, in the aggregate commerce of the nation.
Under almost every head, it will be seen, the in-
crease in the means of labour has been more exten-
sive than has the increase in the number of la-
bourers; in some instances the difference is wide
indeed.

The annual rate of increase among the popuU-
tion has been '9 per cent. From 1801 to 1841 the
population of the kingdom at the outside cannot be
said to have doubled itself. Yet the productions
in cotton goods were not lest than ten times greater
in 1851 than in 1801. The increase in the use of
wool from 1821 to 1851 was more than sixfold;
that of the population, I may repeat, not twofold. In
twenty years (1831 to 1851) the hides were more
than doubled in amount as a means of production ;
in fjiy years the population has not increased to
the same amount. Can any one, then, contend
that the labouring population has extended itself
at a greater rate than the means of labour, or
that the vast mass of surplus labour throughout
the country is owing to the working classes having
increased more rapidly than the means of employ-
ing them 1

Thus, it if evident, that the meant of labour

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

819

PE4

§

o
^

H
Eh

iz;
»

n

El

Pe,
O

H

O
A

lis

= 9

o

E4

g

M
»
El

H
OQ

m

El

O
»

El

Si J Be P^

it&l5SSRS a 5

SS!;38SgaS s s

i§l§l§l§§ g

3.I6IE§I£S £ i

illllllli I I

«• K. ■» ir 1

!iiia::H ; s

iiiliiiii i g

iiiillili 1 s

;S.s

'.Z .3

11 .1.

ss -

It

11 .1.

as" -

.§
1

=1,1 :|

ifeltl

fanre iDcrcAied at a more rapid pace tlian the
labouring population. But the incxeaie in "pro-
perty" of the country, in that which is sometimea
called the ''staple' property, being the assured
piae£es&ioiia of the cUm of propriet^^rfi ^r capital itu,
as well as in tbe proAu^ prove | that, if the
labourers of the country h&^e be«n hungering for
woiit of employment, at least the wealth of the
natjon has kept pace with the increase of the people,
while the profits of trade have exceeded it.

Amount of thb Fbo?brtt and Income of
Gbbat Bbithn.

Property atiesscd Annual Prollti

Vear. to Property-tax. of Trade.

1815 . . £60,000,000 £87,000,000

1842 . . 95,250,000

1844 . . 60,000,000

Increase . 58 per cent.

„ . . 62 per cent.

Here, then, we find, that the property assessed
to the property tax hiu increased 85,250,000/. in
27 years, k^m 1815 to 1842, or upwards of
1,000,0 go;, sterling a year; this is at the rate of
1*7 per cent every year, whereas the population
of GreatJSntain has increased at the rate of only 1*4
per cent, per mmtiin. But the amount of aaiels-
inent tinder the property tAJc, it tbooLd be borne
in mind, doe e not represent the full value of the
possessions, so that among this class of proprietors
there is £Eir greater wealth than the returns show.

As regards the annual profits of trade, the in-
crease betwe(!n the years 1815 and 1844 has been
23,000,000/. in 29 years. This is at the rate of
1*7 per cent, per anijura, and the annual incroasa
in the popuiation of Great Britain is only 1-4 per
cent But the amount of the pro6ts of trade is
uBq^uestionnbly greater ihaii uppeJjrt in the finan-
cial tables of the revenufi cf the country conse-
quently there is a greater inc rente of wealth over
population than the figures indicate.

The above returns show the followbg results : —

Increase
percent,
per Ann.
Population of the United Kingdom . '9

Productions from . . . . 21 to 5

Bxports 14

Imports ...... 5

Shipping entering Ports ... 9

Property 1*7

ProfiU of trade .... 1*7

Far, very iar indeed then, beyond the increase
of the popuUition, has been the increase, of the
wealth and work of the country.

And now, after this impoiing array of wealth,
let us contemplate the reverie uf the picture : let
us inquire % while we have been increasing in
richei and productions far more rspidly thati we
have been increasing in people and produeeri — let
ui inquire, I aaj, if we have been numerically in-
creasing alio in the «ad Long lists of paupers and
criminali. Has our progress in poverty and crime
been "jmr jJtMJw" or been more than commen-
surate iu the lapidity of iu strides?

\

320

LOA'DOX LABOUR AXD THE LONDON

POOR.

3LAND AND V

TABLE

SllOWIXa THE NUMBER OF PAUPERS IN KN(

'ALES.»

; Number of Paupers

1
Numerical IncTfaseund Decrease. Annual Increuc,

.

Years.

relie%eil. Qu.irter« eudliifj

! t denote* Inrrease.

and Decrease

s

l.aily-<iay.

I ♦ ,. Dfcreaic.

l»er Cent. j

B ^

1S40

1,199.52'J

1

1841

l,!il>l..o43

t 90.519

t's

lb42

1.427,1S7

tl2i«,13y

fio

184;i

l,53y,4l<0

: tll2,:5«»3

t 8

1844

l,477,."!»ol

t939,071

too i

1845

l,47i>.l»70

• 6.591

• 0-4 1

l.S4«;

I,:i3-'.US;)

• 38,831

• 3

1.S47

1,721,350

1 t"»S9/261

+29 :

UiS

l,b7«3,541

fi^'VOi

+ 9 I

HiTo, then, we have nu increase of 50 per cent. |
in less thitn ten yenni, though tlie increase of the i
population of England and Wales, in the Kime |
time, was hut 1 3 per cent. ; and let it he rcmem- '
hcred that the increase of ii]nvards of 650.000 pan- |
pera, in nine year?, has accrued since the New Poor
Law has been in what may be considered full
working ; a law which many were confident would

result in a diminution of pauperism, and which cer
tninly cannot be charged with oiiering the leait
encouragement to it Still in n/nf years, our poverty
increases while our wealth increases, and our pau-
perN grow nearly four times as quick a< our people,
wiiile the ))rofits on tmdc nearly double themselves
in little more than a quarter of a century.
\Vc now come to the rccordi of criminalitv : —

TABLE SHOWING THE INC^REASE IN THE NUMBER OF CRIMINALS
ENGLAND AND WALKS FROM 1805-1850.

IN

j AnnutI
AvtT.i};!' Num-
ber of frimina!"
! ('iiiumiltctl.

1S05
l.-sll
1>21
1-<:5l
l^ll

4.60.",

5.:;75

1».7>:;

•J2.;:!'5
2:.Mi

Nunu'iical
Increase.

770
4ii)S

0H>7

I

Decennial
lni>r('a.Ne
per Cent.

17
82
57
46

Annual

Inerea^e

IH>r CiiiL

Incrra»c
per (.eiit.

in the
4.1 yeonk

2-8
S-2
5-7
4-6
36

504

Annual Ave-
rage Increase
per Cent,
11-7.

Fii'in tliese fi'sult-i and such fiu'nn-:* are fact.i, I
and lliiTcf'Te stuhh' ni lliin-j'— tlu' p.-ople ciiinot
Ijo siii 1 to have iiicre;;"i»'d l»"yund the wealth or
tile moans of empldviiii; t!u'iu. f.-r it is evident

that''- '•:ir,,iKi' t'n //'>.; ,f^/ a/'if rinii. (f.* //■. i,>-
r,,n<. i,K .r.(,!f/,^ ,;;,,/ /,. f.„;/( t',li' fr'/i>Hff Vi'r

*■ The olJirMl n tiirn> :i» to tin- muiiiIht of ])au|)t'r'> are
ni' -it ii:ii.iiip!i t.-.ii.i! unMt>'rri.t!«rv. In iho loth annual
H('|<ort of thi- r<M). I..tv« I (Miiiiii--i<ii:i-:!., ]i. 4:0 (ItU-tl.
.1 tLihli- i<. \iihiii-il wiiirli i- siul (uKi\<- tin- rcturn-N from
ilii* tjirlhst pcri'iil lor ulii.h »iuihtntii- r.irl::inicnt:iry
(lotinii-iits lia\i- N'-ii ri'icuril. ;:nit thi< s-. I.-, forth thi-
ininilx r of |i:onMr-» iii Kii>;l.iii<1 anit Wall:*, ftir the tntir,'
tu;h-.- n.-nt/,i \\i the \« :il.. l.'S'.t. l;!!.'., 1HI4. illlii U!l.'.; thi-n
vuit » :i lijMi; inrtr\;il of " 1 .. ri!'irn->." ami aftrr liffl' we
have tl-r ninrlMTs for only *.'.;•>■■' m-HfKi' in inm h yi-ar.
from I.;-io up to li:4;!; in die Jir-i annual Report (UHM
thf^i- r.tuni-i for oni- qnaictr in lachytar an- cnntinuctt
n]>fii !::■;:{; and thi-n v.c tn t tin- returns fur only two
(lays in i-.n-h year, thi- l-A i*f July and the \fl of January, '
>o ih.ii tt) ^^^}i^lv to .\r.\ (o<uai>!on amid >tt much incoiV
si<tftic-\ :. utterly iMip')-Mhl<-. Thi- innnlKT-* aJ)ove piven
wonUl \\A\v tMtn' cMitnuutl to thi- prt-M-nt iH*ri<Kl. ciMild
any comparison liaM-bi en iuNiitnted. I'he numbcr^fur
the pet.oiU ^not iIkivi- j»i\en- are--
1JHI3

MiV.i
llilA

ij;i.>

U'rl'i (Kt Jan.)
,. ilsiJulv)

ll^utt (1st J.III.)
.. (UtJiiJM

lli.'»l 1 1st Jan.)

I,n4«».71»5.
1.4LHi.«'«L-i '

1,;M!US.*,1 '
!>44'.}t.'l )
iU(i,

T'lTi.;

y,4*»j

Number of pau)>frs for the
cut ire twelve montlui.

NumluT of paupers for two
M-ivivate dayi» iu caeli year.

i.c-rois' ,'r iii'.iihtrf. The above are the bare facts
(if the country — it is for the reader to explain
them as ho p!ea.ses.

As vet we have dealt with those causes of
casual laliour only which may induce a surphi^asre
of labourers witlnmt any tfi<):ti<e taiinij j'fw: !«
^■'-: .fmii'tit'f 1/ ''-n.l: We have seen, fjr«t, hnvf
thr nunibi-r of the unemployed ni.vy be increased
either by altering the hours, rate, r.r mode of
workint*. or else by changing the tonn of hiiiug,
and this while the number of labourer.^ rfiiiaioi
the same ; and, secondly, we have seen how the
.>>ame results may ensue from increasing the num-
ber of labourers, while the condiiii«us of working
and hiring are iniaitered. Under both these
circumstances, however, the actual i][uaiitit> of
work to be done in the country hiiA been supposed
to undergo no change whatever ; and at present
we have to point out not only how the a:ni)inu of
surplus, and, consequently, t.'f casual labour, in
the kingdom, may be increased by ^t r/f.vt'/e of
titc trvil; but also how the work itself m.iv be
made to decre;ise. To know the causes of the
one we must ascertain the antecedent< of the
other. What, then, are the circumst;tnces in-
ducing a decrease in the quantity of work t and,

LONDON LABOUR AND TEE LONDON POOR.

821

consequently, what the circumstAocei inducing an
increase in the amount of turplus and casual
labour 1

In the first place we maj induce a large
amount of casual labour in partietdar dittrictt,
not by decreasing the grou quantity of work re-
quired by the country, but by merely shilling
the work into new quarters, and so decreasing
the quantity in the ordinary localities. " The
west of England/' says Mr. Dodd, in his ac-
count of the textile mauu£icturcs of Great Britain,
" was formerly, and continued to be till a
comparatirely recent period, the most important
clothing district in England. The changes
which the woollen manu&ctore, as respects both
localization and mode of nuuiagement, has been
and is now undergoing, are very remarkable.
Some years ago the ' west of England cloths'
were the test of excellence in this manu&c-
ture; while the productions of Yorkshire were
deemed of a coarser and cheaper character. At
present, although the western counties have not
deteriorated in their product, tho West Riding of
Yorkshire has made giant strides, by which equal
skill in every department has been attained;
while the commercial advantages resulting from
eoal-mines, from water-power, from canals and
railroads, and from vicinage to the eastern port of
Hull and the western port of Liverpool, give to
the West Riding a power which Gloucestershire
and Somersetshire cannot equal The steam-
engine, too, and various machines for &cilitating
■ome of the manufacturing processes, have been
mere readily introduced into the former than into
the latter; a circumstance which, even without
Deference to other points of comparison, is suffi-
dflot to aecount for much of the recent advance in
the north."

Of lata years the products of many of the west
of EDgknd clothini; districts have considerably
dedin^ Shepton Mallet, Fromeand Trowbridge,
for instance, which were at one time the seats of a
flourishing nianu&cture for cloth, have now but
little employment for the workmen in those parts;
and so with other towns. "At several places in
Wiltshire, Somersetshire, and Gloucestershire,
and others of the western counties," says Mr.
Thornton, " most of the cottagers, fifty years ago,
were weavers, whose chief dependence was their
looms, though they worked in the field at harvest
time and other busy seasons. By so doing they
kept down the wages of agricultural labourers,
who had no other employment; and now that
they have themselves become dependent upon
agiBCulture, in consequence of the removal of the
woollen manufacture from the cottage to the
Victory" {as well as to the north of England],
** these reduced wages have become their own
portion also;" or, in other words, since the
shifting of the woollen manufacture in these
parts, the quantity of casual labour in the
caltitation of the land has been augmented.

The same effect takes place, of course, if the
work be shifted to the Continent, instead of
meiriy to another part of our o¥m country. This
has beea the main cause of the mieery of the

straw-plaiters of Buckinghamshire and Bedford-
shire. ''Durii^ the last war," says the author
before quoted, ** there were examples of women
(the wives and children of labouring men) earning
as much as 22«. a week. The profits of this
employment have been so much nduced by the
competition of Leghorn hats and bonnets, that a
slraw-plaiter cannot earn, much more than 2$, 6U.
in the week."

But the work of particular localities may not
only decrease, and the casual labour, in those
parts, increase in the same proportion, by shifting
it to other localities (cither at home or abroad),
even while the gross quantity of work required
by the nation remains the same, but the quantity
of work may be leu than ordinary at a articular
time, even while the same gross quantity annually
required undergoes no change. This is the case
in those periodical gluts which arise from over-
productiou, in th» cotton and other trades. The
manufacturers, in such cases, have been increasing
the supplies at a too rapid rate in proportion to
the demand of the markets, so that, though there
be BO decrease in the requirements of the country,
there ultimately accrues such a surplus of coomio-
dities beyond the wants and means of the people,
that the manuiscturers are compelled to stop pro-
ducing until such time as the regular demand
carries off the extra supply. And during all this
time cither the labouren have to work half-time
at half-pay, or else they are thrown out of employ-
ment altogether.

Thus £ur we have proceeded in the assumption
that the actual quantity of work required by the
nation does 'not decrease in the aggrtyate^ hvA only
in jxirtictUar pldces or at jMirtieular Hma, owing
to a greater quantity than usual being done in
other places or at other times *. We have still to
consider what ore the circumstances which tend to
diminish the gross quaiUity of work re'iuirtd by
the country. To understand these wo must know
tho conditions on which all work depends ; these
are simply the conditions of demand and supply,
aud hence to know what it is that regulates the
demand for commodities, and what it is that regu-
lates tho supply of them, is also to know what it is
that regulates the quantity of work required by
the nation.

Let me begm with the decrease of work arising
from a decrease of the detnand for certain com-
modities. This decrease of demand may proceed
from one of three causes: —

1. An increase of cost.

2. A change of taste or fashion.
8. A change of circumstances.

The increase of cost may be brought about
either by an increase in the expense of production
or by a tax laid upon the article, as in the cose
of hair-powder, before quoted. Of the c/tange
of taste or fashion, as a means of decreasing the

« It might at fint appear that, when tlie work is
shifted to the Continent, there would be a proportionate
decrease of Ae aggregate quantity at honoe, but a little
reflectkm will teach us that the foreigners must cake
something ftom us In exchange for their work, and so
increase the quantity of our work in certain re^iecu as
much as they depnss it in others.

324

LOSDOy LABOUR AXD THE LOXDOX POOR.

Hence about one-fourth of the trade appcAr to
have Won omplovi'd for six months, while up-
wards of one-half had work for only three
nioiitlis nr less throughout the year— many bein^
at work only three days in the wcvk during that
tinu*.

The rulibish-cirter it exposed to another ca-
sualty ovi»r which he can no more exercise con-
trol than hi^ can ovct the weather; I mean to
what is peni'rally called sjifftlafion, or a nifje for
bnildiiii;. This is evoked by the st;ite of the
money market, and other causes iip<m which I
need lint dilate : but the effect of it u{M)n the
labiiiirers I am dfiicrihing is this: capitalists may
in one year embark sutficient means in buildinjir
spi'cul.itmns to erect, say 5U0 now hous<*s, in any
particular district. In the followinf? year they
may not erect more than 200 (if any),*and thus,
as there is the same extent of unskilled lalwur in
the market, the numWr of hands required is, if
the trade be ^'onendly less speculative, less in one
year tiian in its predec«»ssor by the numlier of nib-
bieii-cariers required to work' at the foundations
«»f .'iiio houses. Such a cause may b*» exceptional;
butiluriuv' the last ten years the inhabited hmises
in the ti\e district* oi' the Uej;istrar-(icneral have
increased to the extent of 4ri.«»00, or from li()2.737
in l.Ml,to ;;u7.7*2'-' in l^^Jl. It appears, then,
tliat the annual increase of our metropolitan
houses, concliniinu that they increase in a re-
puiar yearly ratio, is 4jU0. 'List year, however,
as I am intornuMl liyau experienced builder, there
were rallier fi'\vi«r bnilding:! erected (he frpoke only
from his own ubs-.Tvalions and per>ional knowledge
ol ih»' hniinejs; than the yearly averapi* of the de-
i(ii!i:al ti'ini.

T.'ie ca?u il and constant wage^ of the rubbish-
tarii:> n];iy he thus ditailed. The whtde system
ol' the labour. I may auain state, niu»t h" n-garded
as to-.iiil, or- - as tin- word importn in its derivation
lr»ia the Latin «vf. /•.*, a cli.mcc — the lalmurof men
wiio are iK.\a>ional;y eniplnyed. S»mi' ot" the
liio-t ii'sjM'ctalile and induHinHns rubbish-carters
w.iii wii-im I niit. t'«Id n.e iliey m-m rally might
nuiKf up tlnir mnids. th.«U;:h they mi^hl have
exc«l..'nt nia-ters. to bf six months of the year
nn.nijii.iyiM at rubiiish-cariing ; .this, too, is less
than ihi- a\er.fj»' of thi* chance enipl'iyjnent.

<';i.i lil.ilinj, then, tlie ruljhi>li-i.artiT's receipt
(it . ..,.,.,.'' ■•,.■•.. at 1?*., ai.d l.is ft-'af 'rti-fs at
'_" . Ill tlie h.>i:«ii;iable trade, I :ii.d the following
a;:i ;iiil i-i hv paid.

\''\ n«iiiM:al wagi"i, I have before explained, I
niriM wi.at a man i.- .r/."./ to n-ecive, i^r has Ix'en

/"■ .-"' tlsat in- shall he j)aid weekly. Aetnal

\.-.i:. ■>. i-a till- "li, i han-l, are what a man |Hi»i-
:-.v-. ;. , ."..». tii'-iv lu-iiig soniftinifs additiiins
in 5::i' riirni '•! p>rqni"«ite.<» (jr aiowancc*; suino-
t:.:. - d'-.initii.iiN in th:« w.iy i»t tines and siop-
1'. -■■^: liie addiiions in tiie rutibisli-tartliig tr.ui..'
a.'i'.-.ir \ 1 ji\i-iMg.> ali.Mit li.v. a week. IJnt these
'• '■ " ■■':r.- ar.- M«i\i-d only so [uw^ as the men
n:.- .-Jii;.. .yd. il;al i-. I • >ay. thi-y arc ih<' cti tm'
lu:'.'-; viiin il.- r.. .'•../ varniiiirs of the UK-n
I ^^■«.K■I.J at a tradi'. which is essmiialiy <if an
I On .8:-»n.il or tcmpuaiy character; the average

employment at mbblsk-carting being only tkree
months in the year.

Lot US see, therefore, what would be the con-
stant earnings or income of the men working at
tho better-paid portion of the trade.

The gross actual wages of ten
rubbish-carters, casu.iUy employed
f«)r 31) weeks, at 2uj.' per week,
amount to .

The gross actual wages of 250
rubhish-carters, castially employed
for 2G weeks, at 20.<. ]ier week

The gross actual wages of 360
rubbish-carters, casually employed
for 13 weeks, at 2u^. per week

9. a.

390 0 0

6500 0 0

4600 0 0

Totil gross actual wages of C20
of the better-paid rubbiskcarten . 11,490 0 0

But this, as I said liefore, represents only the
ra^iiat wages of the better-paid operatives — ^thit
is to say, it shows the amount of money or money *i
worth that is positively received by the men
while they arc in employment. To understand
what .ire the cnnsfttnt wages of those men, we
must divide their gn^ss casual earnings by 52, the
number of weeks in the j'ear : Urns we find that
the constant wagi'S of the ten men who were em-
ployed for ;jy weeks, were 15s. instead of 20*.
per week —that is to s.\v, their wages, equally di-
vided throughout the year, would have yielded that
constant weekly income. By the fauic n^asoning,
the 20«. per week casual wages of the 250 men
employed for 20 weeks out of the 52, were equal
to only lOjt. consi.int weekly wages ; and so the
.'5<I'» men. who had 2ru. per week casually for
only three m.»nths in the year, bad but 5*. a week
r;„.st.i„*i.t throughout the whide year. Hence
we see tiie enornnius ditTerence there mr.y b.; be-
tween a man's casual and his constant earnings
at a ;;i\en li-aile.

The next question that forces itself on the
mind is. hiw do the rubbish c.irtiTS live when r.a
h)nger i-mployed at this kind of work ?

When the slack reason among rubbish-cnrt»'n
c«»inineiicrs, iu*aily one fifth of the operatives are
di>cliir;4ed. These t.ikc to scavaginu' or dustman's
work, as well as that of uiivigators, or. indeed, ary
form of unskill'd labour, some obUiining full em-
pli»y, but the greater part being able to "pets
j-di only n«>w and then." Those masters who keep
thrir men on throughout the year .ire som^ of
them lar^'O du-t contractors, some carmen, some
dairymen, and (in one or two instances in tbe
suburb;., as at Hackney) small fanners. Thedasr-
cMitractors and cirnien, who are by far the mo.f
nmniTiins, find employment for the men emi>h\vrtl
by tliein as ruhbi>h c.irters in tbe season, either at
t!n' du>t-yard or carrying sand, or, indeed, carting
any materials they may have to niove--lhe iragcs
to the mrMi remaining the same; indeetl such is
the tran-ient character of the rubbish-ciriing
trade, that there are no ma.iters or operatives who
devote tiiemsclvcs M.leiv to the busine:^s.

LOS DOS LABOUR AND THE LOSDOS POOR.

325

The Kffects of Casuai^ Labour in General.

IlAvixa now pointed out the cnuHes of casual
labour, I proc«'Oti to set forth itH elftrta.

All casual labour, as I have faid. is necessarily
uncrrtain, labour; and wherever uiicortainty
exists, there cnn be no foresight or providence.
Uad the succession of events in nature been irre-
gular,—lia'l it been ordained by the Creator that
similar causes under limihir circumstances should
not be attended with similar eftit>cts, — it would
have been impossible for us to have had any
knowledge of the futuro, or to have made any
preparations concerning it. Had the s«'asons fol-
lowed each other fitftiUy, — had ihe sequences in
the external world lieen variable instead <»f inva-
riable, and what are now termed '' comttauts " from
the regularity of their succession been changed
into inconstants, — what provision roiilil even the
ni'ist prudent of us have made. < Whore all was
diirk and unstiiblo, we could only have guessed
instead of reasoned as to what was to como;
and who would have deprived him«elf of present
enjoynieiitsi to avoid future priv:itions. which
could appear neither probabli* nor even possible
to him ■ Pro-vidcnco, therefore, is simply the
result of cerLiinty, and whatever tends to increase
our faith in the uniform sequencer of outward
events, as well as our reliance on the means
we have of avoidinof the e\iU connected with
them, necessarily tends to make \\% more prudent.
Where the means of sustenance and comfort
are fixed, the human l>eing becomes conscious of
what he has to depend upon: and if he feel
auui'td that such means may fail him in old .age
or in sickness, and be fully inipreised with the
ecrtaintif of suHering from either, ho will im-
mediately proceed to make some proviiiion against
the time of adversity or infirmity. If. however,
his means be uncniiani — abundant at one time,
and deficient at another — a spirit ot speculation or
gambling with the future wili he induced, and the
individual get to believe in " luck " and " fate "
as the arbiters of his happiness rather than to
look upon himself as " the architect of his fortunes"
— trusting to "chance" rather than his own powers
and foresight to relieve him n: tlin hour of neces-
sity. The same result will utcessarily ensue
if, from defective reasoning powers, the ordinary
course of nature be not sufficiently apparent to
him, or if, being in good health, ho grow too
confident upon its continuaneo, and, either from
this or other causes, is led to b l-evc that death
will overtake him before his pf-wer:* of self-support
decay.

The ordinary effects of uncrrtain lalH)ur, then,
are to drive the labouriTS t«> improvidence, reck-
lessness, and pauperism.

Kven in the classes which we do not rank among
laboareri, as, for instance, authors, artists, musi-
cians, actors, uncertainty or irregularity of cmploy-
f ment and remuneration produceH a spirit of waste-
fulness and carelcssnc&s. The stoaily and daily
accruing gains of tnido and of some of the profes-
sions form a certain and staple income; while in
other professions, where a large sum may bo real-

NoTxLVT

ized at one time, and then no money be eorncil
until after an interval, incomings are rapidly spent,
and the interval is one of suffering. This is part
of the very nature, the very essence, of the casualty
of employment and the del.iy of remuneration.
The past privation gives a zest to the present en-
joynient; while the present enjoyment renders the
past privation faint as a remembrance and unim-
pressive as a waniing. "Want of providence,'*
writes Mr. Porter, '* on the part of those who live
by the labour of their hands, and whose employ-
ments so often depend upon circumstances beyond
their control, is a themo which is constantly
brouaht forward by many whoso lot in life has
been cast beyond the reach of want. It is, in-
deed, preatly to be wished, for their own sakes,
that the habit were general among the labouring
I classes of saving some p;irt of their watjea when
\ fully employed, ai^aiuht less prosperous times; but
i it is difficult for those who are placed in circum-
j stances of ease to inthiwfe tlu amount of virti'e
ih(U is imitfiful in this JtfiJjift'.nial. It must bo a
hard trial for one who has recently, perhaps, seen
his family enduring want, to deny them the small
amount of indulgences, which arc, at the best of
times, placed within their reach."

It is easy enough for men in smooth circum-
stances to say, " the privation is a man's own fault,
since, to avoid it, he has but to apportion the sum
he may receive in a lump over the interval of non-
recomiHJUsc which he knows will follow." Such a
course as this, experience and human naturo
have shown not to bo easy — perhaps, with a
I few exceptions, not to b<^ possible. It is the
j starving and not the well-fed man that is in
I danger of surfeiting himself. When pestilence or
j revolution are reuilcring life and property t^mal-
I tien in a country, tho same spirit of improvident
' recklessness breaks forth. In London, on the last
I visitation of the plague, in the reigji of Charles
I II., a sort of IMa«ue Club indulged in tho wildest
' excesses in the very heart of the pestilence. To
these orgies no one was admitted who had not been
' bereft of »omo relative by the pest. In Paris,
j during the reign «»f terror in tho first revolution,
1 the famous (luillotinc Club wju composed of none
but those who hud lost some near relative by the
guillotine. When they met for their halffrantic
revels ever}' one wore some symbol of death :
bre.ist pins in the form of guillotines, rings with
death's-heads, and such like. Tho duration of
their own lives these Guillotine Clubbists knew to
be uncertain, not merely in the ordinary uncer-
tainty of nature, but from the character of the
times ; and this feeling of tho jeopardy of exist-
ence, from the practice »>f violence and bloodshed,
wrought the eti'ecta I have described. Life Avas
more than naturally casual. When the faminy
was at the worst in Ireland, it was remarked in
tho Cork- Jixii miner, that in that city there never
had been seen more street "laikmg" or street
cambling among the poor lads and younj? men
who were really starviufr. This was a natural
result of the casualty of labour and the conse-
quent &isualty of food. Persons, it should be
remembered, do not insure houses or shops that

n:^

320

Loynox LA noun and the loxdox poor.

are " Jmihly or trebly hnzarilous ; " they gamble !
on the iinaTlaiiity.

Mr. PorttT, in his " Progress of the* Nation,"
citos n foot bo:iring im!nediat<.*Iy upon the piesent
subject.

'• The formation of a cnial. which his been in
pronnresa ilnrinjj the last tivo yrars, in the niirth uf
Ireland (this wai written in 1847), has afforded I
•leady empluymcMit to a portion of the peasantry,
who befure that time were sntforir.g all the evil$, I
Bo common in timt country, which result from tlie
procariou'-ness of enn»h»yment. Such work m they j
could previously •{ct came at uncertain intervals. '
and wa? sought by so many competitors, that the '
remuneration was of the scantiest nm'nint. in this '
condition of things the men were impnivident, to {
reckleMue/iS : their wages, insullicient for tlie com- !
fortiiblc fiustcnance of their families, were wa»ted I
in procuring for themselves a temporary forgetful-
ness of their misery at the whiskey-sb»p, and the <
men appeared to be sunk into a state of hopeless I
degradation. Fr jm the moment, however, that
work was oftered lu them which w;ui cnn^fant in if.s
naf '.re and cfrtain In, its if 'nation, and on which
their we«'kly earninLTs would be suHicicnt to pro-
vide for their comfnrtabli! support, men rr/,„ htut
lieen, idle and di.*sitl»u rn^re cnuvtrU'd. into iff. 'her '
hardtrorl'in*/ UihonyiTff and i^-in'^d ffumsdffS
I'ind (rnd ranfal h u.. ha i>ds and father n : and it is
stated as a fact, that, notwithstanding the distribu-
tion of several hundred pounds weekly in wages,
the whole of which must be considered as si much
additional mou'^y phicui in their hands. tliL* con-
sumption of whi!»k»\v was abao'ut"ly and jtrma-
miit''f diminished i;i the di.itrict. Durin:; tlu: cnm-
parativcly short period in wliir.li the construfiion
of tl'i'j cmril was in prf)i;re*s, 8o:ni» of thi' most
careiiil lalourers men who mi):«t probably before
then ne'-er knew wliat it wa-* to p-isst-ss hve shil-
lings at any on«r time — saved sntticient mon^'v to
enable tliein to emii^nite to i.Janada.'

There c in hardly be a J^tronirer illustration of
the ble.^siif^ of coii^tant and tin; curse of casual la- '
hour. Wi; have conipetenc: and frugality ai the
result.'* of one system; p»V"»r:y and extravagance "
as the re-uits of the other; and among the very
same indivi.iuals.

In the evidence given by Mr. (ralloway, the
engineer, b fore a parliamentary committee, he |
I remarks, lint '' whtMi employer!* are con^petent to I
show their men tliit their business is sfmi/if v.;id I
I rf.rt<iin, and wiien men find that they are likely
to have p: n-ifi-rnt cmpl"«ymcnt, they have always
Utfa- lia'-itA tiii-l hior,: s'tt'.d iKAions, which will
nuko them /••^'■.;- ii>e.,i :ii:d M/«r #'»)/-i/m/', and
will produce great benefits to all who are interested
in their empioyment."

Moreover, even if i)aynuMU be assured to a
working man regiil irly, Ift ihj'rrr,d fnr huj in-
tfri'o.'.i, so as to make the return-* Iomj .ill appear-
ance of iegnl:irity, he will rarely be fmnd able to
resist the temptation of a tiivern, and, perhap*, a
long continued carouse, or of some other extrava-
gance to hi^ tist", when he receives a month's
dues at once. I give an instiince of this in the
following statement : —

l'\ir some years after the peace of 1815 the
staffs of the militias were kept up, but not ia any
active service. During the war the militias per-
formed what are now the functions of the recular
troops in the three kingdoms, their stAtioni being
changed more frequently than those of any of the
^regular regiments at the present day. Indeed,
they only differed from the " reguLirs "' in name.
There was the same military discipline, and thit
sole ditl'erencc was, that the militui-men — who were
balloted for periodically — could not, by the laws
regulating; their embodiment, be sent out of the
United Kingdom for purposes of warfare. The
militias were embodied for twenty -eight days'
training, once in four years (seldom less) after tha
peace, and the staff acted as the drill sergeants.
They were usually steady, orderly men, working
at their respective crafis when not on duty after
the militia d disembodiment, and some who had
not been brought up to any handicraft turned out
- perhaps from their military habits of early rising
and orderliness- -very good gardeners, both on
their own account and as assistants in gentlemen's
gr>»unds. No few of them saved money. Yet
these men, with very few exceptions, when they
received a month's p ly, fi)oled away a part of it iir
tippling and idleness, to which ihey were not at
all addicted when attending reifularly to their work
with its re^'uhir returns. If they got into any
trouble in consequence of their carousing, it was
looked upon as a sort of legitimate excuse, ** Why
you see, sir, it was the 24th*' (the 24 th of each
month being the pension day).

The thoughtless extravagance of sailors when,
on thi-ir return to port, they receive in one sum the
wa.u''*s they have earned by severe tail amidst
st>riiis and dangers during a long voyage, I need
not 5p;.Mk of: it is a thing well known.

Thesr* soldiers and seamen cannot be said to
have been ra^ui'f'/ employi'd, but li»e rcsnlis were
the same as if ihey had been so employed ; the
monf y crim.' to them in a lump at so long an in-
terval as to appear uncertain, and was conse-
quently squandered.

I may cite the following exa.nple as to th*
eticcts of uncertain earnings upon the liousc-hold
outlay of labourers who suffer from the casualties
of employment inJ.tioed by the season of th«» year.
'• In the long liU'" ilays of summer, the little daugh-
t-rof .1 working' brickmaker," I was told, **uscdto
ord-.-r chops and other choice daintie.s of a butcher,
8.ayina, ' I'leahe, sir. father don't care for the pric?
just a naw : but he must have bis chops good;
line chops. Mr. and tender, please — 'cause he's a
brickinaker.' In the winter, it was, * 0 please,
sir, here 's a fourpenny bit, and you must sen-l
father something cheap. Ue don't care what it is.
so long as it's cheap. It's winter, and he hasn't
no work, sir — 'cans • he 's a brickmaker.' "

I have spoken of tV.e tendency of casual labour
to induce intemperate habits. In confirmation of
this I am enabled to give the following account as
to the i:icrease of the sale of malt liquor in the
metropolis cons'tjucitt upon iret "-mffHr. The
account is derived from the personal observations
of a gentleman long familiar with the brewing

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

827

trade, in connection with one of the largest
houses. In short, I may state that the account is
given on the very best authority.

There are nine large brewers in London ; of
these the two firms transacting the greatest extent
of business supply, daily, 1000 barrels each firm
to their customers ; thef seven others, among
them, dispose, altogether, of 3000 barrels daily.
AH these 5000 barrels a day are solely for town
consumption ; and this may be said to be the
acarage supply the year through, but the public-
house sale is far from regular.

After a wet day the sale of malt liquor, prin*
ci pally beer (porter), to the metropolitan retailers
is from 500 to 1000 barrels more than when a
wet day has not occurred; that is to say, the
supply increases from 5000 barrels to 5500 and
GOOO. Such of the publicans as keep small
stocks go the next day to their brewers to order a
further supply; those who have better-furnished
cellars may not go for two or three days after, but
the result is the same.

The reason for this increased consumption is
obvious ; when the weather prevents workmen
from prosecuting their respective callings in
the open air, they have recourse to drinking, to
pass away the idle time. Any one who has made
himself familiar with the habits of the working
classes has often found them crowding a public-
house during a hard rain, especially in the neigh-
bourhood of new buildings, or any public open-air
work. Tne street-sellers, themselves prevented
from plying their trades outside, are busy in such
times in tlie " publics," offering for sale braces,
belts, hose, tobacco-boxes, nuts of different kinds,
apples, &c. A bargain may then be struck for
so much and a half-pint of beer, and so the con-
sumption is augmented by the trade in other
matters.

Now, taking 750 barrels as the average of
the extra sale of beer in consequence of wet
weather, we have a consumption beyond the de-
mands of the ordinary trade in malt liquor of
27,000 gallons, or 216,000 pints. This, at 2d. a
pint, is 3000/. for a day's needless, and often pre-
judicial, outlay caused by the casualty of the
weather and the consequent casualty of labour.
A censor of morals might say that these men
should go home under such circumstances ; but
their homes may be at a distance, and may present
no great attractions ; the single men among them
may have no homes, merely sleeping-plicas ; and
even the more prudent may think it advisable to
wait awhile under shelter in hopes of the weather
improving, so that they could resume their labour,
nfiHi only an hour or so be deducted from their
wages. Besides, there is the attraction to the
labourer of the warmth, discussion, freedom, and
excitement of the public-house.

That the great bulk of the consumers of this
addUional beer are of the classes I have men-
tioned is, I think, plain enough, from the increase
being experienced only in tliat beverage, the con-
sumption of gin being little affected by the same
means. Indeed, the statistics showing the ratio
of beer and gin -drinking are curious enough

(were this the place to enter into them), the most
gin, at a general rule, being consumed in the most
depressed years.

"It is a fiict warth notice," said a statistical

journal, entitled '' FacU and Figures," published

in 1841, "as illustrative of the tenden^ qf Me

I times qf pressure to increoM spirit drinking, th*t

j whilst under the privations of last year (1840)

■ the poorer classes paid 2,628,286/. tax for spirits;

in 1836, a year of the greatest prosperity, the tax

on British spiriU amounted only to 2,390,188/.

So true is it that to impoverish is to dmoralise."

The numbers who imbibe, in the course of a
wet day, these 750 barrels, cannot, of course, be
ascertained, but the following calculations may be
presented. The class of men I have described
rarel}' have spiire money, but if known to a land-
lord, they probably may obtain credit until the
Saturday night. Now, putting their extra beer-
drinking on wet days — for on fine days there is
generally a pint or more consumed daily per
working man — ^putting, I say, the extra potations
at a pot (quart) each man, we find oiu hmidred
and eight tftousand consumers (out of 2,000,000
people, or, discarding th^ women and children, not
1,000,000) ! A number doubling, and trebling,
and quadrupling the male adult popuUtion of
many a splendid continental city.

Of the data I have given, I may repeat, no
doubt can bo entertained ; nor, as it seems to me,
can any doubt be entertained that the increased
consumption is directly attributable to the
casualty of labour*.

Of thb Sourf Taadb amokq the Rubbish-
Cabtbrs.

Before proceeding to treat of the cheap or
"scurf" labourers among the rubbish-carters, I
shall do as I have done iii connection with the
casual labourers of the same trade, say a few
words on that kind of labour in general, both as
to the means by which it is usually obtained and
as to the distinctive qualities of the scurf or low-
priced labourers; fur experience teaches me that
thi mode by which labour is cheapened is more or
less similar in all trades, and it will therefore save
much time and space if I here — as with the casual

labourers give the general facts in connection

with this part of my subject.

In the first place, then, there are but two direct
modes of cheapening labour, viz. : —

1. By making the workmen do more work for
the sa)iie pay.

2. Byjmaking them do the same work for Uss pay.
The first of these modes is what is technically

termed *• driving,'* especially when effected by com-
pulsory "overwork;" and it is called the "economy
of labour" when brought about by more elaborate
and refined processes, such as the division of la-
bour, the large system of production, the invention

* The Great Exhibition, I am informed, produced a very
$maU effect on the consumption of porter; and, accord-
ing to the official returns, 100,000 mllons less tpiriis were
consumed in the firit nine months of the present year,
than in the corresponding months of the last : thus show-
ing that any occupation of mind or body is incompatible
wuh intemperate nabiu, for drunkenness is essentially
the vice of idleness, or want of something better to do.

{i'2i LOShOX LMioCH AXh TllK LOSUoX POOR,

o! iiincliium*, iiiiil llu* /e«i/»'»ivr.'. ns cmitraditftin- , where tln'V ar*' f:>in»d to prevail. I hare alrendf
gui>h<Mi tV>ni ilie /niwntKff. iiioiii* ot' iiiriiit;. ' bhowii iiow. liy fxim bupirrvisiun — by incrt^aMtl

p]iaii oi' liuso iimdoi uf luulviii^ u'orkiiuMi dii ■ inUTe*t in uie work -ai wi*il ns by decnrnst^d }Niy,
,:<'*iv wiM'k iiu- the Mtitu |*iiy, can biii li.ive tin* operaiivcft i::in bi* inndo in do DMre work th:in they
t>:ime do|)rci>i>iii^ eiiVcl on the hiboiir iiiaiki't. tor - nthcr'.\i»t* wiMtid. oiid mo be thi* cauti.% unless the
nut uniy id ih«- tnh id' ri'inuiivnitiuii (or ratio ut iiiark'*t b^* :ir(ipi>riioik:iti*)y cxttMidtHi, nt defiriviiis^
tlif wiirk to the piiy) reduced when the npfntlivL* ■ some ••! thiir !ril>>\v Ubnurei-!! of their fair ibare
iri made to do a greater quantity id \\<u'k fur tlie of ein|ii<'\ mi-iit. Ii now only rcniaias for mc to
Mini' nni'iuiit nf luuney, but. uniedti the nicaiiM of , sft forili ih'' etV.-ct •>: tiio^e nioden oi eniployraeiit
di*pi»»inp; oi the extr.i prt>din."l> lie j»ropiiti'»ii;ilrly wiiich hjne nu \.'l bi'i-n described, vix., the
increa.Hed, it i^ evi.leiil tliat jii^l ub iiiuny work* doiiiehtic ityHtfin. tie iuidd!eni:in BVitein, and the
iiieii nnist be displaced therci'y a<i thi? iiierea>ed contract :i:id iiuoj* »y>teiu, as well at the Hoali-
t'M'Hi or r.'.ti' i)i wiirkiu^ exceeds the e.\tl■li^ion of ' iinist-.T Bystcni of wnrl:.

the niatk>'i»; that is to kiv, if rlUHD workpeopiit . L>.'t me beuin with the tirst of the last-men-
be made to produt-e each t\vu:.'a^ much a? formerly . ijoned nioJrA of cheapening labour, viz., tht if:*-
(either b\ extruding tho hours oi labour or in- ' .'hf<(i'>"f't,o ■.»' >•■",/■.

creasinjj thrir nite id laliouriii^i, then if tlie I 1 find, by inv'^iit^ition, that in trades where
mark<'tA or nuMiLS of di>poHinL' of tlie extra pro- i th<' h\sieui i>t worUiii!; on liie ma<ter's firemises
duct.s be im-reavd only one-half, Umh) hands must, ! has bti*n ii<>paried froni, and a man in a'.luwed to
accord niu' to (.'-.K-k'T. be de|triv<:d of their ordinary , L'lke hi.^ uork honi>', there is invariably a ten*
employ iiient: aiiil tiiese coinpetiinj with tiiose wlio i dency to cneapen lainmr. Thei>e home workers,
are in work will iiiiiiUMiiately tend to rc'diu-e tin* > whi'iifxi-i' ojip triunity oilers, will use nther men's
wuui'K of till* tiaile L'eneraliy, to that not only ill-paid laij.iii:-. oi • l.-«e employ t!ie members of
will the vif't ot ua^es be decreased, s>ince each will , their family l" enh.ti.ce their omi profit*,
have in-ire woik to do. but the acuial earnin,;s of . Tn* domeotie ny Diem. mori>oM-r,iiatamUy induces
the workmen will bf liimininhed likewise. ur. ,—-i,' uml .>'.',i'/.i ■;•»'■,,,/. ,15 ,.-,// ,1^ Uufls to

Oi the ecoiijiny of labour itself, as a means of «7»<» ##'.•. vm, ,*• -i,,'' .> m •» ttO'inf;,' ff-yo '»■•>■*, fit'i'itj
ciieaneiiin^ wmk. ilo'ie is no n.'cessity fur me to m, tf.,. 'o.'.n'i '.t u.>:,j.lhtir ,or,J.i.,,i'. When the
fcpi'ak lieiv. It is, iinieid, ueneraliy admitted, ] work is •:,\eciiti*d nil t!itf ma. f:*« iireiniaes, of
that to ec-'iiiiuni/e labour without in'oportionally ' coiirde then- ar>* neitii'-: d(-H>iit-.* hours nor days for
exieiidin^r tin: mar.setb 1 ir tiie prodiiL-la of such labour: an 1 the con^i-iMii'iM-o i<. th>.> iriMierality of
labour, is to deprivf a c-rtain number of wurkinrii home workei-!< bibuir •arly and late, Sundays as
of th-ir I'l-linary means of livinjt ; and under the ' well a^ wi'-.-k-iiav:*. availinu llii'mM-ivoa at the
lit- ;d of i.i:jual lainmr ::o many in>tances Inive Kaiue lime o! the c lopiTatioit of tlieir wive:< and
bi-'Mi L!i\en ot this ]iriMcipb' that it v.'oiild l'«* . eliilihvn : tloM la-- ira-i*; b,'L-o:nes overstocked
^\ aii.". 'rill- X" ill' r a-ier wim- I lo du i.jlifi iha.'i witii wok;i-*.»]»li' I'v t.ii- isiirudu-.ti'iu «/." a \a.*l
a.i:ii!i ti» liir nialti 1 .11 pn-> Mit, Thi'ii-ari-. ii"V\.'ViT. nnin< •;•«•! \u- ■\ haii > int> ii, ai e.oll as Ijy the
.■"i-vt-ral oliii'i- ni'-aiis of iaiioiii;; a x.oiUni.in to ci.i nveiwmk 0: lii-- ui-o ;'irin.s Ims wii.) ir.ug ositain
iijoie liian hi.s ordinary iiwinliiy of work. Tiie<r ini.il.i'. rs-Mi:. \'. ii.-.i I ua> a:ii i.i;; tiu; ta;'.i>rii, I
are: re.riv.MJ tV-.m a inn ■.■Mi;an to \\li;iin I v«-a< n-

1. liy eMra -aju'/Ni-i ••« 'a iien the w-iikini'ii Si-rr.-'i '.iv ia«- "rrt-i • •^■•liecy as liie otie b -^t alile
arr pa:d by liie iia\. Ol' tliii m )de ot l<M-\ii.a!a ti|.- imh,.-^ .1; im- i;«t',!Iii' ot thai tra-ie,
iMTea^fii |i:-.i(l;uii in ai: i'i>:a!ir.- iias al- liii/ toll iwWiu i-u'in a« ■•.Mit ..■! ill': o\ iis of this
rr:id\ bee:. «.itiii in the aii- uiiii nl the M^t -m 1.: ■.|5| Mr

f.i-a:r,iiii:i-'-|'ii-j juixeu at p. :'i ' I, \i'l. ji. "Tlie ;»:iir:p.i taose ot the liei'line of nsn

J. ii\ iin;rra-: .: to- w-irkinan'- iaicn'st iw traiie i lii'- ••mpl-iv .ii.-nt ^iven to wor);men at

ill- work: a^ in pa-i.i' wotk. v.heii' tli:' li-i-ir •■*. n ao,ii«-s. -ir. in othi-r woid.s to the

payn.i-:'.: ii :.•!•■ iipi-!Mii\e is i:i:ide prnpcr- ' " s«" ;«t«T*." Tl'" .-.w-iiier i- trie •;reati*«.t evil in

t;-.i:iai l^i i •.■■ »|iia!ility oi wo:k liiMu- liv . tin- i...-.i' : a»! ili- *>.i'atiiiii hystein iiicro.i^es IM

hi, a. <'l ilr.."! niii.i-' (•\iiiu'l ■> ha\e a;ir:i.iy iiiimiier 01 Imu ■•> to .-.u aluio.'.t incii-dil'!.- f\ient--

\u-ru -ix •:. a*, p. '.^^l'.. Mil. ii. wivrs, .nmii^. iaii-iit'Ms. and ixlia wt.nien, ail

">. Ij/ l.ir.'; iji!iiiiitir.> i»: work ;;iMMi nut at workini; ' i-o:: ia}-i" — that i^, lib'Mirin^ frr-m

ijiii; tiiii" : a.> iM " jiiiij;' .■■ i:i/ ;ind "c-.ni- .sixleiMi to i-i::!,; % .i a.-Lri* per day, aii-i i>unday»

lra« : wi'ik.' I as wi-ii. H\ iiii^ .•'V.-icni u\*> lU'.n oi.'taiii as much

■L l!y ill-' uoiu'-stic KVst"::! oi Wi«rk. or «.'iv- " wrik as \\oii!ii ^w-' ■ ii.piiymeni V) tlj:..-e or four

11:1; nut niaieiia..* to bf ma:le up al the _ m.-n VMui'iij r-'unln- hours in liie sli ip. I'l'iise:

hi>m'"» «il tli- w'lK; pi-. ■ i|iu'ii'.!y. iw .-\>.-a:i-. ".ii-intr eii.-.i/ed to jjii trie

.*>. l»y the ».si'iil<'inaii .'.y>i<'ni *)( labi.ur. \NiMk ••■lar hy ^\ iuum and children al a lower

Ii. IJy till- pi.vali'iu'" of .^niall nia'-li-r>. pri'-e lii. -i 'i ■' i«jular workman, obtains the

7. JJy a r.-hi.ed lat- of pay, a> fn-ciiij greater pari ot" ;:ir -anmnls to bi- laade, while

op.Tali\i-.< to I.iiiiMir bi-ih bjuiii-r and • men wo ii-'p-'u i upia th<* .^-h.-p for tlieir li\ing

ipiiiki'!. 1:. i>rd.-r i-i make up tlic >anio ■ aiv ni-li-i-o ro wa.r about i 1J«'. A «:reater quan-

ani'iuni of im- 'mr. tiiy nf \\ *\\ ii* u oi." nnoi-r the sv. oat ini; system

t>l >e\i'ial ot ih'.w mities of work I lune at a 1ow»t price. I cioisaier thai thi- decline of

jdready spoken, citing' fat is ii< to their pernicious my t:a ie dale^ Jrou tiio chanu'e of da\-wurk into

induencj* upt.n tlie irivatur p .rtiun .if iho-se ti-ades piecework. Aiv.rdir.u to the old system, the

LONDOX LABOUR AXD THE LONDON POOR.

S29

journeyman was paid by the day, aiid coiim-
quentiy must have done his work under the eye
of his employer. It is true that work m'hs given
out by the m.ister before the chanj^e from day-
work to piece-work was regularly acknowledged
in the tmde. But siill it was morally impossible
for work to be i;ivcu out and not be paid by the
piece. U^Acc I ihtU the decrease in the ^ctujes qf
the worlmun fi-otti tke introdHCtioji of piece- vorJi;
ami tjiciiiff out ^artMHtt to he mat/^ off tl^e pre-
iiiift,< of th^ nuutti'.}'. The effect of this was, that
the workman making the garment, knuwin*; that
the master could not tell whom he got to do his
work for him, employed women and children to
help him, and paid them little or nothing for
their libour. This was the beginning of the
sweating system. The workmen gradually be-
came transformed from jounieym«.Mi into ' middle-
men,' liviucr by the labour of others. Employers
soon began to hnd that they could get garments
made at a less sum than the regular price, and
those tnitlesmeu who were anxi->us to force thi'ir
trade, by underselling their more honourable
neighbours, readily availed thi^niselves of this
means of obtaining cheap labour."

The Midiif.enutji sif.<fem of rnrJiis so much akin
to the domestic system, of which, indeed, it is
but a necessary result, that it forms a natural
addendum to the above. Of this indirect mode of
employing workmen, I said, in the CluonicUf
when treating of the timber-porters at the docks :—

'' The middleman system is the one crying evil
of the day. Whether he goen by the name of
'sweater,' 'chamber-master,' * lumper,*or contractor,
it is this tradiiiy o}>ero*ir: who is the great means
of reducing the wa^cs of his fallow worknig-men.
To make a proHt nut of the emuloyoient of his
brother operatives he nimt, of course, obuiin a
lower claiu and, coitsequently, c!)caper labour.
Hence it becomes a himintf.t with him to hunt out
the lowest grades uf workin? men that is to say,
those who are either niomily or intelleciually in-
ferior in the craft —the drunkon, the dishonest,
the idle, t'le vagHbonii, and the unskilful ; these
are the instruments that ho seeks for, because, these
being unuble to obtain employment at tlie regular
wages of the S'jbitr, honest, industrious, and skilful
portion of the tmde, he can obtain their labour at
a lower r.ite than what is usually paid. Hence
drunkard!«, tramps, men without char.icter or sta-
tion, apprentices, children — all suit him. Indeed,
the more degraded the labourers, the better they
answer his purpose, for the cheaper he can get
their work, and conseciuently the more he can
make out of it.

" * Boy labour or thief labour.' said a middle-
man, on a large scale, to me. ' what do I care, so
loni; as I can get my work done cheap f That this
pekiny out of cheap and inferior labour really
takes place, and is a necessary consequence of the
middleman system, we have merely to look into
the condition of any trade where it is extensively
pursued. 1 have shown, in my account of the tailors'
trade printed in the ClironicU, that the wives of
the sweaters not only parade the streets of London

j on the look-out for youths raw from the country,
, but that they make periodic;il trips to the poorest
provinces of Ireland, in order to obtain workmen
I at the lowest possible rate. I have shown, more-
over, that foreigners are annually imported from
the Continent for the same purpose, and that among
. the chamber-masters in the shoe trade, the child-
: market at Bethnal-irreen, as well as the work-
' houses, ore continually ransacked for the means of
obtaining a cheaper kind of labour. All my in-
, vestigations go to prove, that it is chiefly by
; means of this middleman system that the wages
! of the working men are reduced. It is this
contractor — this trading operative — who is in-
; variably the prime mover in the reduction of
I the wages of his fellow-workmec. Ue uses the
i most degraded of the cUiss as a means of under-
j selling the worthy and skilful bbourers, and of
i ultimately dragging the better down to the abase-
nient of the worsu He cares not whether the
trotie to which he belongs is already overstocked
with hands, for, be those hands as many as they
may, and the ordinary wages of his craft down to
bare subsistence point, it matters not a jot to him;
he can live solely by reducing them still lower,
and so he immediately seU about drafting or im-
porting a fresh and cheaper stock into the trade.
If mt-ii. cannot subsist on lower prices, then he
takes apprentices, or hires children ; if women of
chastity cannot aiford to labour at the price he
gives, then he has recourse to prostitutes ; or if
workmen of chai-acter and worth refuse to work at
less than the ordinary rate, then he seeks out the
monil refuse of the trade — those whom none else
will employ ; or else he Hies, to find hibour meet
for his purpose, to the workhouse and the gaol.
Backed by this cheap and refuse labour, he offers
his work at lower prices, and so keeps on reducing
and reducing the wages of his brethren, until all
sink in poverty, wretchedness, and vice. Go
where we will, look into what»*vor poorly-p'iid
craft we please, we shall tind tnis trading ojH.ni'
tine, th'iBtviiddieiHan or cuntnictor, at the bottom
of the degradation."

The •* contract system " or *• lump work," as it
is called, is but a coroll:iry, as it were, of the
foregoing; for it is an essential part of the middle-
man system, that the work should be obt;iincd by
the trading operative in large quantities, so that
those upon whose labour he lives should be kept
continiuilly occu]>ied, and the more, of course, that
he can obtain work for, the greater his protit. AVhen
a quantity of work, usually ]iaid for by the pii'ce,
is given out at one time, the natural tendency is
for the piece-work to p:is3 into lump-work; thai is
to say, if there be in a trade a number of distinct
parts, each requiring, perhaps, from the division
of labour, a distinct h.ind for tlie execution uf it,
or if each of these piirts bear a different price, it
is frequently the case that the m:uter will contract
with some one workman for the execution of the
whole, agreeing to give a certain price for the job
''in the lump," and allowing the workman to get
whom he pleases to execute it. This is the case
with the piece- working masters in the coach-bniid-
ing trade; but it is not essential to the contract or

830

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

lump system of work, that other hands should be
employed : the main distinction between it and
piece-work being that the work is given out in
large quantities, and a certain allowance or reduc-
tion of price effected from that cause alone.

It is this contract or lamp work which con-
stitutes tho great evil of the carpenter's^ as well
as of many other trades ; and as in those crafts,
BO in this, we find that the lower the wages are
reduced the greater becomes the number of trading
operatives or middlemen. For it is when work-
men find the difficulty of living by their labour
increased that they take to scheming and trading
upon the hibour of their fellows. In the slop
trade, where the pay is the worst, these creatures
abound the most ; and so in the carpenter's trade,
where the wages are the lowest — as among the
speculative builders — there the system of contrac^
ing and sub-contracting is found in full force.

Of this contract or lump work, I received the
following account from the foreman to a large
speculating builder, when I was inquiring into
the condition of the London carpenters : —

" The way in which the work is done is mostly
by letting and subletting. The masters usually
prefer to let work, because it takes all the trouble
off their hands. They know what they are to
get for the job, and of course they let it as much
under that figure as they possibly can, all of
which is cle.ir gain without the least trouble.
IIuw the work is done, or by whom, it's no
matter to them, so long as they can nvikc what
they want out of the job, and have no bother
about it. Some of our largest builders are taking
to this plan, and a |>arty who used to have one of
the largest shops in Limiion hxi within the last
three yt-ars discharged nil tiie men in his employ
(he had 2'.)U at least), and has now merely an
oiHco, and none but clerks and accountants in his
pay. He has taken to lotting his work out
instead of doing it at home. The parties to whom
the work is let by tho speculating builders are
generally w«)rkii.g men, and these niei> in their
turn look out for other working men, who will
take the job cheaper than they will; and si I leave
yo.i, sir. awl the public to judge what the party
who really executes the work gets for his labour,
and what i.^ the quality of work that he is likely
to put into it. The speculating builder gene-
rally employs an overlooker to see that the work
is done suHiciently well to ])ass the surveyor.
Th.at's all he ciires about. Whether it's done by
thieves, or drunkards, or boy:». it *s no matter to
him. The overlooker, of course, sees after the
first p;irty to whom the work is let, and this
party in his turn looks after tho several hands
that he h;is sublet it to. The first man who
agrees to the job takes it in the lump, and he
again lets it to others in the piece. I have
known instances of its having been let again a
third time, but tliis is not usual. The party who
take3 the job in the lump from the speculator
usually employs a foreman, whose duty it is to
give out the maleriaU and to make working
drawings. The men to whom it is sublet only
fnid Libour, while the Mumper,* or first con-

tractor, agrees for both labour and materials. It
is usual in contract work, fur the first party who
tikes the job to bo bound in a large sum for the
due and faithful performance of his contract He
then, in his turn, tinds out a sub-contractor, who is
mostly a small builder, who will alto bind him-
self that the work shall be properly executed, and
there the binding ceases — those parties to whom
the job is afterwards let, or sublet, employing
foremen or overlookers to see that their contract i«
carried out. The first contractor has scarcely any
trouble whatsoever ; he merely engages a gentle-
man, who rides about in a gig, to see that what is
done is likely to pass muster. The sub-contractor
has a little more trouble ; and so it goes on as it
gets down and down. Of course I need not tell
you that the first contractor, who does the Ictut of
all, gets the tiiott of all ; while the poor wretch of
a working man, who positively executes the job,
is obliged to slive away every hour, night after
night, to get a bare living out of it; and this is
the contract system."

A tradesman, or a speculator, will contract, for
a certain sum, to complete the skeleton of a house,
and render it fit for habitation. He will sublet
the flooring ti some working joiner, who will, in
very many cases, tike it on such terms as to
allow himself, by working early and late, the re-
gular journeymen's wages of ZOs. a week, or per^
haps rather more. Now this sub-contractor cannot
complete the work within the requisite time by
his own unaided industry, and he employs men to
assist him, often subletting <igain, and such
assistant men will earn perhaps but 4;. a day.
It is the same with the doors, tho staircases, the
balustrades, the window-fmnitf?, tho room-skirt-
ings, the cloBPts ; in short, all parts of tlie buildinj.

The subleiiin;r is accomplished without TiiHi-
culty. Uld men are sonietimes emplo^-ed in such
work, and will be glad of any remuneration tj
escape the wnrkhouse; while stronger workmen are
usually sanguine that by extra exertion, *' though
the figure is low, they may make a tidy thing out
of it aft<?r all." In this way labour is cheapened.
*' Lump" work, " piece" work, work by *• the job."
are all portions of lh<* contract system. The prin-
ciple is the same. " Here is this work to be don.*,
what will you underuike to do it for ?'*

In number ai'ter number of the liuthfcr will be
found statements headed "Blind Builders." One
firm, responding to an advertisement for " esti-
mates ' of the building of a church, sends in an
otfer to execute the work in the best style for
iiOO'.V. Another tinu m.iy oifer to do it for some-
where about 300U/. The Hr>t-meutioned rimi
would do the work well, paying the *' honourable"'
rate of wages. The under- working firm iHost re-
sort to the scamping and subletting system I bare
alluded to. It appears that the build in;? ot
churches and chapels, of all denominations, is one
of the greatest encouragement to slop, or scamp, or
under-paid work. The same system prevails in
mmy trades with equally pernicious effects.

" If you will allow me," says a correspondent,
''I would state that there is one cause of hardship

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

381

and snflfering to the labouring or handicraftsman,
which, to my mind, is &r more productive of
distress and poor-grinding than any other, or than
all other causes put together : I allude to the con-
tract system, and especially in reference to print-
ing. Depend upon it, sir, the &ther of wicked-
ness himself could not devise a more malevolent I
or dishonest course than that now very generally |
pursued by those who should be^ of all others, |
the frieuds of the poor and working man. The
(jovernmeut and the great West-end clubs have
reduced their transactions to such a low level in
this respect that it seems to be the only question
with thera, Who will work lowest or supply goods
at the lowest figure? And this, too, totally irre-
spective of the circumstance whether it may not
reduce wages or bankrupt the contractor. No
matter whether a party who has executed the
work required for years be noted for paying a '
fair and remunerating price to his workmen or I
sub-tradesmen, and bears the character of a re- I
sponsible and trustworthy man — all this is as j
nothing ; for somebody, who may be, for aught
that is cared, deficient in all these points, will do :
what is needful at so much less; and then,
unless willing to reduce the wage of his work-
people, the long-employed tradesman has but the
alternative of losing his business or cheating his
creditors. And then, to give a smack to the
whole aflSiir, the 'Stationery Office' of the Go-
vernment, or the committee of the club, will
congratulate themselves and their auditors on
the fact that a diminution in expenses has been
effected; a result commemorated perhaps by an
addition of salary to the officials in the former
case, and of a 'cordial vote of thanks' in the
latter. I do not write ' without book,' I can
assure you, on these matters ; for I have long and
earnestly watched the subject, and could fill many
a page with the details."

Of the rainous effects of the contract system in
connection with the army clothing, Mr. Pearse, the
army clothier, gave the following evidence before the
Select Committee on Army and Navy Appointments.

** When the contract for soldier's greatcoats was
opened, Mr. Maberly took it at the same price (13«.)
in December, 1808'; this shows the effect of wild
competition. In February following, Esdailes'
house, who were accoutrement makers, and not
clothiers, got knowledge of what was Mr. Maberly's
price, and fAey tendered at \2s. (j\<L a month
afterwards; it was evidently then a struggle for
the price, and how the quality the least good (if
we m^y use such a term) could pass. Mr. Maberly
did not like to be outbidden by Esdailes; Esdailes
stopped suhseqwntly, and Mr. Maberly bid \2s. 6d.
three months after, and Mr. Dixon bid again,
and got the contract for lis. Zd, in October, and
in December of that year another public tender
took place, and Messrs. A. and D. Cock took it at
lis. 5\d., and tUy suhsequetUly hroH. It went
on in this sort of way,— changing hands every
two or every three months, by bidding against each
other. Presently, though it was calculated that
the great coat was to wear four years, it was found

that those great coats were so it^erior in quality,
that they wore only two years, and representations
were accordingly made to the Commander-in-Chief,
when it was found necessary that great care should
be taken to go back to the original good quality
that had been established by the Duke of York."

Mr. Shaw, another army clothier, and a gentle-
man with whose friendship, I am proud to say, I
have been honoured since the commencement of
my inquiries — a gentleman actuated by the most
kindly and Christian impulses, and of whom the
workpeople speak in terms of the highest admira-
tion and regard ; this gentleman, impressed with a
deep sense of the evils of the contract system to
the under-paid and over-worked operatives of his
trade, addressed a letter to the Chairman of the
Committee ^ Army, Navy, and Ordnance Esti-
mates, from which the following are extracts: —

" My Lord, ray object more particularly is, to
request your lordship will submit to the committee,
as an evidence of the evils of contracts, the great
coat sent herewith, made similar to those supplied
to the array, and I would respectfully appeal to
them as men, gentlemen, as Christians, whether
ficepence, the price now being given to poor females
for making up those coats, is a fair and just price
for six, seven, and eight hours* work. . . .
My Lord, the misery amongst the icorkpeople is
most distressing — of a mass of people, willing to
work, who cannot obtain it, and of a mass, espe-
cially women, most iniquitously paid for their
labour, who are in a state of oppression disgraceful
to the Legislature, the Government, the Church,

and the consuming public I would,

therefore, most humbly and earnestly call upon
your lordship, and the other members of the com-
mittee, to recommend an immediate stop to be pnt
to t/ie system of contracting now pursued by the
different government departments, as being one of
false economy, as a system most oppressive to the
poor, and being most injurious, in every way, to
the best interests qf tfie country.'*

In another place the same excellent gentleman
says : —

" I could refer to the screwing down of other
things by the government authorities, but the
above will be sufficient to show hoic cruelly the
workpeople employed in making up this clot/ung
are opjyressed; and some qf the men will tell yon
they are tired of life. Last week I found one man
YiMking a country poUce coat, wfu> said his wife
and child were out begging."

The last mentioned of the several modes of
cheapening labour is the *' small-master system"
of work, that is to say, the operatives taking
to make up materials on their own account rather
than for capitalist employers. In every trade
where there are smcUl masters, trades into which it
requires but little capital to embark, there is cer-
tain to be a cheapening of labour. Such a man
works himself, and to get work, to meet the exi-
gences of the rent and the demands of the collec-
tors of the parliamentary and parochial taxes, he
will often underwork the very journeymen whom
he occasionally employs, doing " the job" in such

\

LOXDOX LAHOrn AXD TIIEJ.OyDOX POOR,

ra^"4 with i!j<» ansi^^anv i»f hs* tamily anil auprr'n-
ti • •<. at a li's^ \:\w •^\ pro.lt ihan t!w amount .»f
JHir'i 'Vin«'n*s wa,"-^.

('■>!!!• •rniij t!i«"!" iarp't nia-;'«Ts I sai-l, wh.Mi
tr-atinj «•! tin* (!aliinft tra'l»\ in tn«* '.•'.••../..•'.,
" Til" imi!h.> uf t!u' r\traor»iinary ii«'t'.inf '>f wair^s
iij tiK- 'ahini't traii» wwn iIm-.t:;!! th«> haniia d'*-
cr'-a-'Mi :inl th-- work iniTt»a-!i'.l tu an n'-pni- »-
do.il«"i '"Xti'Mfi \vi;l !••• f.»nn<i tor.n*i*l in t!i-.' i.:-
ctva-i' I'l It Iia< ta'.ii-n plai'p within the \\< 'J'» yraiN
nt u'lat an' imI1«'«1 ' s»an\'t niaM'rrs" in th-" raii!n«*t
trail<*. Tfi.'M» ir.irri't nia>t«T.H ari* »i <•' ia<» of *niail

* tra'l'- ".' ii .in^' ma-*!!'!"-*.' thf sanva'ith" * chatr.'irT
inas:«'r*' in lhi» sh-ji* ira.i-. <inpr>:yiiiL' l» »th cipit.il
a'.ii :a'"»»i:r. Tii'-y an- i:: !aannfa'tnr<' w'nt * tij-
p M^iiit pripr: -t •!«•" ar-' i'.i a.-rirtiliaro -their own
iM >;•; . .-.Th uTui liii'ir •»'.vn w.»rl;!n.:u# T»iit«' i-».
h -wi'v-r, this nn" niarl:«-l di^tin -t.-ui l»"f.v«'.«n th- ,
i'v-» i".i.<s.'4 • th- -irr.'t :!»«*:''r rin.i"i. Iik»» th.*
p«M*a;!t pr >jiri--! )i'. ••/' wisath- pr'»iiii.i'fi : th-e»n-
s«'['UMj •!• i-». that he U •iMIj-ti toc-mviTt i-aeh art:-
cl r i:»l»t'»iil i:nni'-«liat''!y h- !m'inra«'iur«-< it n«»
nn:i.-r wliat th- -tat • «'t" ih- nvirk-'t may \h\ Th-
cipitil i«t' th.' LMTi". mi-'tiT W'wxz i-eri'Taily j.«i;ii-
cicat t> IiikI a:!n m i.nter-'alH f.ir th- m inutactnri'nr
only '•'.- aitiil- .It a ti'i: •. a!i 1 li'-* saNiiii'^ li-iu;
b*it lian'.y -'n-u-h tn" ii'^ 5uh".i'>t»'nee whil- h- is
eji^a-j-i in jiultniv th»-.* niat-riils toir-thi-r. h- is
c»mp-.l-d. r'ii» m«»:ii -lit th«' woik is eo:nph»te!. tu
p:irt with It f'lr whif-v-r li«» can aet. II- iaini'»t
aUiri t> k«'-p it e\i'n a •! -y, f>r t • d-i .s» i^ irene
rally t«» r -main a »lay nnl '\. llenoe, it the mark-t
ln' at all '.lark, \u* lia«t to f"-»rc«» a sah' hy (••.V-r'ni;
lii>« i:>"«i' at til- 1 •'.V'«t pii'.'.iiili' prie-. Wiiat
w» .ijiT. ih-n. tlia* ♦::■• n-t-.s-ili— » of" .«:j-h a e!a«s
o! ill ii'. ;.; mIv »=> .a'.l ii.r - t rial- 1 a ^p••'■:aI ra-"
ot" .•: I . M r-i. h: irn |.y t!i- si_Mr:!<a:it nriai- "f

* ' i:j. .:-r 'i hi*- ni-u' -r l!;a* tl'.->»-, li-inir a'vari*
of ♦.'ii .Ti ih:!iiy oi tiii* "jar'.'-t m.is^-r-t't » h>!-> -iir
n^ ...;.! a-.v i««V.-r. n» i--. -.tt-r h -w "'.i-iit a r-'-i Mi-
nt M :: .-.r-.r'- f«r t! -ir ! ih nr, ♦•h "i i e .•n!;i.i..i''y
1 »v..-.- and !'i\vr tii -ir pii.-'. until th- »-r!l;r' l»->.iy
ct" I- • .oMiM'titiv- p'lti-Mi "t" th- ivih Ti-t trad- :■!
ji'js.'v "ij •••'.•r -h-Htii It: .ji ani mi^iTy ' M>'r-ov-r,
it i- W'W k'li'.vii h>\v '•tr-eij i<i th • stimii'n«i ain-iu'
p'a<i:;! j>:- •••rj.-t C-, t. ini-**-'!. a'ly ela-s w »:kin:;
!•»:•: .-isi— ■.•.-<. t.) .-vfra pr»diti ti'»n. >■• it i-s. iii-
d- I. \\i:!i -ji' -arr.-t i-.a-t-r*: thi^ir indantry is
a':ii".t i:u-*-.H.int, asii li-ar • a L'ii*al-r .unality ot"
w rl; 'H tura-d i»al hy lh-n«. an 1 einiinna.iy t'-rc^^'i
i::f-> t.':- nia'.Aet. tiian ih-r- w m!:! oth-rwise he.
V.iiat I I -Jiu'h tii-r- h- a iiri-k an 1 a slack s-a5'»n
in ta* « al'iii -t mak-r''. tia !•• a-* in th- 'uajirity «»f
otlicr-. ' ..I irk or iiriok. tiie i:.irr-t inast-r.s' nni-t
Jirn.lii:-; tl.c -ai..- fxi-e^^ive (jiiantity of if-'dj*. In
til- ii'ip* iif I'xirir.itiiii,' himt-it' tVom hi-* ov-r-
w'.!"I:iinj i»iv-jty, li;- t e.I « on. pn* liainu' ninro an<J
mir* — and y-t th- Ta ^re h- pr'dnii'H tin* nior-
h'p •:••■•< d »t'H his p'lo.tinri lii^-.i:j|» ; for th'' creat-r
til- >'.'u-\i tint iie tiii'i*!^ int » th- nnrk't, the
].»-.•.. -r I-..-.* th- prii'i' 'it' ii;-* a'* iir rail, nntil at last,
he -I .1 iii* will'- faiir.ly work l*»r !•*«•< than halt"
w:at i;- .'iJM<"lt inald t'M'w a f-w y-aw baek hy
}i:s Mwii n'lii.i- I lahi'ir. '

Til.- >nii:l mant-r system of work lead*, lik- th-
dmu-.iK- .■.y.Hiemj with which, indenl, it is inti-

mat«»iy connected, to the employment of wives.
c:iii.ire:i. and anprentices, as nmeanf of a«<''«tance
and -xtra produetioji f..r .is the prices d-viine m
do the saiali nia^tiTsi strive by further '..niur t-J
c »mp-n>at- fir thiir loss of income.

S'ueh. thi'n, are the several modca* of work hy
whi.li lah Mir i.-* ch-anened. There an*. a« we
havi» s— M. lust two way* of 'tli>*'tt.j effectii j* thi«,
vi/., tirsi hy nrikin'^ men do more work t:»rthe
S'lmi' pay. and «i.Tondly, )»v making; them d i the
Nam- w-ii k for l-ss pay. Th- way in which ir>n
ar- mad- to do nmr.'. it h;i9 heen pointi-d out. is. by
»:i!iH:nj th'-m -ithiT t.» work loncer or quicker, or
-K - by •.•mpl)yin,' } *wer hand* in proportion to the
wi«r\ : or e:i_»a::in.; t!iem only for sncfi tim-? at
tho^r -i'rvii-s .aie re-jjired. and dischar^'inL' them
iaim-'d-ati'ly atter-.vani*. The^c c«m<t:tnt- the
s-v-ral m-d-* of e-onmii/iM!; labour, which I'»vers
t»- rr-:f r-:n:iii r.iii HI iiiie ratio of th • piy to
th • a-./ki rith-rt!ian th«» pay itACif. Th- »-v.?nil
in .i;h hy wj.ich thin r-sult i.s attain-d are t«Tnied
" -y-<!-m^ of w 'rk. production, or enjr«»".r'*m'!nt,"
and «.n.ii are th'>*- abov- d-tailed.

X tw it ii a \\"< ^ity of thes' several ^y.-tems.
t"".—.i-h the :ic!na' amount of remaneraii.)» is net
dir-et!y reilac- I by them, that a cheap'»r 1 ihoiir
.hImi' 1 b' fi'itain-d fi>r carry in af thorn out. Thus,
in cntrait or l-imp work, p-rhan*. the price may
n»t be innn'd"at<'!y l'i\v«»red ; the scixinc: to the
empl'»yer cn^i-itin:; chielly in super\ision, he
liavini; in suih a case only one man to lo.>jt to
in-sN'ad of p-rhaps a hundn»d. The contractor,
or I r.npT. hiwever, i«« diderently .situated : he, in
ord-rti reap any b-n-fil fiinii th- contra 't. mu^t,
>'i:r ■ !i- f lii'iMt d.i th • v.'liol- w.-rk hisnsi'M. r !:i-.i!.iv
ot"':-rs i» h-lp him. an-l to riM:i any b-n-'::: fr-»in
i!;- »o!i»ra,t^ th •. of •• mr-se mu'.t be il'm.'at i 1 wer
pri- • t'la.i h'* i.::a*.«ir r-'eiv.'>: siit !< \v.?'« t!.e
I'l! \'\.' iMi:i •V't.-.a. wls-re a pr-ifit i-« d -ri-.- d fr^si
t'i • Ii»« . ::• of ..t'l, :• , ;i MMti'.."i : '••i. a^ain. with th-f
• i iM!"if:«- s\vt.Mn .if wrk. w!:-r- th- >-v-r:l in-m-
!!••:«. .if th- !ami!y, or ch- iper lah >!ir«T>«. ar- -^ene-
la. y •■m:i* .y- ! a< a-'-i-t ::.t'« : a-id -ven <> ii it
v.-ith til* ."laii ma t u* sy« :--.!. wii-:i» th" laVoar "i
a;-ir-'n*:-<'- an I w v-m an 1 cii.Idrfii i^ th-* p:ii5r:i>u
maii-i <f h'Ip. 11 -m*** t!i • op-rativt-^ ad-^ptimj
th -r-' s'v-r»! .".y-t-iiH of w»rk are rath-r :'•:- in-
.•■tMim-TitN !iy wiiiih i li-ap 1 ili «ur i* obtiM. d than
th- rh-M:! li!i.i!r-!s th-mn-lves. It i-* tni • that a
-iwi'.iti'r, a I'hamb-r nia*»tM-, or irarret m i.-r-r, a
lum:vr or r mtrai-tor. or a home wtirker, jt-ncmMr
work'' ch-apT than the ordinary operative-!:, \\x\x
lhi< jie do-s riiielly by th- cheap labotirc'.s he em-
ploy, and th'-n, liii line: that h- i.< able to under-
wo:k the r-t of the trad»\ and that the more
hand«» h- emidoyii the jm-at-r beeomes his pr-fit,
!i- o:V<Ms to lio work at lens than th- usual rate.
It is not a n-c-s-ity of th- ^y.^tein that th^ mi Idie-
nian op.-ntiM', th- ilom-stic worker, th- liimpT.
»ir LTirri't m iHti-r -.hnuld i)'» him«elf nndortuiil, but
simti'v liiat he shonhi em: l-»y others who are go.
and it is t!iii< that Midi 8y-ti*nis of w»rk ten! t»
cheit><'n th- labour of those tnid-n in whii-h th«?v
ar- fi-md to prevail. Who. th-n. ar.' th- cheap
labiurers .' wiio the in iivMuab, by meann of

>

LONDOir LABOUR AND TUE LOXDON POOR.

383

whose services the sxfenter, the smaller master,
the lumper, and others, is enabled to underwork
the rest of his trade] — what the general character-
istics of those who, in the majority of handicrafts,
arc found ready to do the same work for less pay,
and how are these usually distinguished from such
as obtiiin the higher rate of remuneration ?

The cheap ymrtnien^ in all trades, I iiud, arc
divisible into three classes : —

1. The unskilful.

2. The untrustworthy.

3. The inexpensive.

First, as regards the nnshilfiil. Long ago it has
been noticed how frequently boys were put to
trades to which their tastes and temperaments were
antigonistic. (lay, who in his quiet, unpretending
style often elicited a truth, tells how a century and
a half ago the generality of parents never con&i-
dered for what business a boy was best adapted —

*• Biit e\'n in infancy decree
What this or t'other son shall be."

A boy thus brought up to a craft for which he
entertains a dislike can hardly become a proHcient
in it. At the present time thousands of parents
are glad to have their sons reared to an^ business
which their means or opportunities place within
their reach, even though the hid be altogether un-
suited to the craft. The consequence is, that those
boys often grow up to be unskilful workmen.
There arc technical terms for them in ditferent
Umdes, but perhaps the generic appellation is
"muflfs." Such workmen, however well conducted,
can rarely obtain employment in a good shop at
good wages, and arc compelled, therefore, to accept
second, third, and fourth-rate wages, and arc often
driven to slop work.

Other causes may be cited as tending to form
unskilful workmen : the neglect of masters or fore-
men, or their incapacity to teach apprentices ; irre-
gular habits in the learner ; and insufficient prac-
tice during a master s poucity of employment. I
am assured, moreover, that hundreds of mechanics
yearly come to London from the countri/ parti,
whose skill is altogether inadeqimte to the de-
mands of the" honourable trade." Of course, during
the finishing of their educition they can only work
for inferior shops at inferior wages ; hence another
caus« of cheap labour. Of this I will cite an in-
stance: a bootmaker, who fur years had worked
for first-rate West-end shops, told me that when
he came to London from a country town he was
sanguine of success, because he knew that he was
a read If man (a quick workman.) He very soon
found out, however, he said, that as he aspireii to
do the best work, he '' had his business to learn
all over again ;"and until he attained the requisite
•kill, he worked for "just what he conld get:" he
was a cheap, because then an unskilful, hibourer.

There is, moreover, the cheaper labour of ap-
}tr€ntices, the great prop of many a slop-trader;
for as such tniders disregard all the niceties of
work, as they disregard also the solidity and per-
fect finish of any work (finishing it, as it was oneo
described to. me, "just to the eye**), a lad is soon
made useful, and bis labour remunerative to his

■ master, as far as slop remuneration goes, which,
I though small in a small bubiness, is weitlth in a
I "monster business."

I There are, again, the " xmprorers,*' These are
I the moit frequent in the dress-making and milli-
: nery business, as young women find it impossible
I to form a good connection among a wealthier class
of ladies in any country town, unless the " patron-
I esses " are satisfied that their skill and taste have
been perfected in London. In my inquiry ^in the
, course of two letters in the Morning Chronicle)
into the condition of the workwomen in this call-
ing, I was told by a retired dressmaker, who had
j for upwards of twenty years carried on business
! in the neighbourhood of Grosvenor-square, that
I she had sometimes met with " improvers" so taste-
I ful and quick, from a good provincial tuition, that

■ they had really little or nothing to learn in Lon-
' don. And yet their services were secured for one,
j and oftener for two years, merely for board and

h>dgiiig, while others employed in the same esta-
I blishment had not only board and lodgivg, but
I handsome salaries. The improver's, then, is gene-
rally a cheap labour, and often a very cheap labour
too. The same form of cheap labour prevails in the
carpenter's trade.

There is, moreover, the labour of old men. A
fciilor, for instance, who may have executed the
most skilled work of his craft, in his old age, or
before the period of old age, finds his eyesight fail
him, — finds his tremulous fingers have not a full
and rapid mastery of the needle, and he then la-
bours, at greatly reduced rates of pa}'ment, on the
making of soldiers' clothing — "sane-work," • as it
is called — or on any ill-paid and therefore ill-
wrought labour.

The inferior, as regards the quality of the work,
and under- paid class of iroaN^if, in tailoring, for
example, again, cheapen labour. It is cheapened,
also, by the employment of Irightmn (in, perhaps,
all branches of skilled or unskilled libour), and of
forelt/nen, more especially of Poles, who are infe-
rior workmen to the English, and who will work
rery cheap, thus supplying a low-price labour to
those who seek it.

I may remark further, that if a first-rate work-
man be driven to slop work, he soon loses his skill;
he can only work slop; this has been shown over
! and over again, and so his labour becomes cheap
I in the mart.

2. Of Untrutlirortkif Lal^ouv (as a cause of
cheap labour) I need not say much. It is ob-
vious that a drunken, idle, or dishonest workman
or workwoman, when pressed by want, will and
must labour, not for the recompense tlie labour
merits, but for whatever pittance an employer will
accord. There is no reliance to be placed in him.
Such a man cannot " hold out" for terms, for he is
perhaps starving, and it is known that " he cannot
be depended upon." In the sweep's trade many
of those who work at a lower rate than the rest of

* The terra tone in ** Mnc-work " is the Norman
word fur blood (Laiitit tattfjuis t French, mn^I, so that
**ftantf-work" meaiu, literally, bloody work, this called
either from the unguinary trade of the soldier, or from
the blood-rtd colour of the cloth.

\

834

LONDOX LABOUR ASJ> THE LOXDOy POOH

the trade are men who have lost their regular
work by duhoneity.

3. The In^rptntive class oi workpeople are very

numerous. They consist of three sub-dirisions :—

((f.) Those who have Ix^cn accustomed to a

coarser kind of diet, and who, consequently,

requiring less, can afford to work for less.

</>.) Those who derive their subsistence from

other sources, and who, consequently, do

I not livr by their labour.

(c.) Those who are in receipt of certain "aids
I to their wages," or who have other means

of living beside their work.

Of course these causes can alone have influence
where the wages are viinxmized or reduced t<> the
lowest ebb of subsistence, in which case they be-
conic so many means of driving down the price of
labour still lower.

a. Those who, being what is designated hard-
roared that is to siy, accustomed to a scantier or
coarser diet, and who, therefore, '' can do " with a
less quantity or le.^s expensive quality of food than
the avemge run of labourers, can of course live at a
lower cost, and so afford to work at a lower rate.
Among such (unskilled) labourers arc the pea-
smts from many of the counties, who seek to
nnicnd their condition by obtaining employment
in the t^wns. I will instance the agricultural
labourers uf Dorsetshire.

" Bread and potatoes," writes Mr. Thornton,
in his work du Over-Population and its Remedy,
p. Ul, '• do really form the staple of their food.
As for meat, most of them would not know its
t.iste, if, once or twitt; <;i thf conrnc uf ihtlv livi»,
— <iii the »«iu:rc's having a son and heir born to
hii'i, or on tlie younff gentleniun's coming of age, —
tiny were not regaled with a dinner of what the
newspapers call * old Knglish fare.' Some of them
contrive to have a little bacon, in the proportion,
it st'cms, of holf a jiound a ^nck to a doztn per-
.'".'.■', but they more commonly use fat to give
tlio potatoes a relish : and, as one of them said to
r»Ir. Austin (a commissioner), they don't aff-avf
eo without thcpse." "

With ni.anypoor Irishmen the roaring has been
still harder. I had some conversation with an
Irish ruhbiih-carter. who had l»een thrown out of
I work (and was entitled to no allowance from any
trade society) in consequence of a strike by Mr.
Myers's men. On my asking him how ho sub-
sisted in Ireland, *' Will, thin, sir,"' he said, "and
it's (jod's truth, I once lived for days on green
thinzs I picked up by the road side, and the
turnips, <ind that sort of mate I stole from the
fields. It was called staling, but it was the
huni(«»r, 'deed was it. That was in the county
Limerick, sir, in the famine and 'viction times ;
and, j;lory be to God, I 'scaped when others
didn't."

I may observe that the chief local paper, the
Tjihie.rirk ami Clare Exaniiiier. published twice
a week, gave, twice a week, at the period of
" the famine and evictions," statements similar to
that of my informant.

Now, would not a poor man, reared as the I

Limerick peaaant I have spoken of, who was
actually driven to eat the grass, which biblical
history shows was once a signal punishment to a
great offender — would not such a man work for
the veriest dole, rather than again be subjected
to the pangs of hunger! In my inquiries among
the costermongers, one of them said of the Irish
in his trade, and without any bitterness, " they *11
work for nothing, and live on less.** The meaning
is obvious enough, although the assertion is, of
course, a contradiction in itselfl

"This department of labour," says Mr. Baine8,in
his History of the Hand-Loom Weavers, is "greatly
overstocked, and the price necessarily falls. The
evil is aggravated by the multitudes of Irish who
have flocked into Lancashire, some of whom, having
been linen weavers, naturally resort to the loon,
and others learn to weave as the easiest employ-
ment they can adopt. Accustomed to a wxetcbed
mode of living in their own country, they are con-
tented with wages that would starve an Bn^ish
labourer. They have, in fact, so lowered the raU
of wages as to 'drive many of the English out of
the employment, and to drag down those who
remain in it to their own level.*'

h. Tho6e who derive their subsistence from
other sources can, of course, afford to work cheaper
than those who have to live by their labour. To
^is clAss belongs the labour of wives and chQ-
dren, who, being supposed to be maintained by
the toil of the husband, are never paid " living
wages" for what they do ; and hence the misery
of the great mass of needlewomen, widoTvs, un-
married and friendless females, and the like,
who, having none to assist them, are forced to
starve upon the pittance they receive for their
work. The lahonr of those who arc in prison^
workhouses, and asylums, and who consequently
have their subsistence found them in such places,
as well as the work of prostitutes, who obtain
their living by other means than work, all come
under the category of those who can afford to
labour at a lower rate than such as arc condemned
to toil for an honest living. It is the same with
apprentices and " improvers," for whose labour
the instruction received is generally considered
tu be either a sufficient or partial recompense, and
who consequently look to other means for their
support. Under the same head, too, may be
cited the labour of amateurs, that is to say, of
persons who either are not, or who are too proud
to acknowledge themselves, regular members
of the trade at which they work. Such is the
case with very many of the daughters of trades-
men, and of many who are considered ffrntal
people. These young women, residing with their
parents, and often iu comfortable homes, at no
cost to themselves, will, and do, undersell the
regular needlewomen ; the one works merely for
pocket-money (often to possess herself of some
article of finery), while the other works for what
is called " the bare life."

r. The last-mentioned class, or those who arc
in possession of what may be called "aids to
wages," are differently circumstanced. Such are
the men who have other employment besides

LONDON N I G II T M E N.

{_From a Dj'Hiei-r.'.f,ype by Okard.I

i;

» ■

LOXDOy LABOUR ASD THE LOXDON POOR.

335

that for which they accept Ins than the ordinary
pay, as is the case with those who attend at
gentlemen's houses for one or two hours every
mornini^, cleaning boots, brushing clothes, &c.,
and who, having the renuiinder of the day at their
own disposal, can afford to work at any calling
cheaper tlian others, because not solely dependent
upon it for their living.

The array and navj' pensioners (non-commis-
sioned ofHcers and privates) were, at one period,
on Xha disbanding of the ipilitia and other forces,
a verj' numerous body, but it was chiefly the
miliUiry pensioners whose position had an effect
upon the Ubonr of the country'. The naval pen-
sioners found employment as fishermen, or in some
avocation connected with the sea. The militiry
pensioners, however, were men who, after a
career of soldiership, were not generally disposed
to settle down into the drudgery of regular work,
even if it were in their power to do so ; and so,
as they always had their pensions to depend
upon, they were a sort of universal jobbers, and
jobbed cheaply. At the present time, however,
this means of cheap labour is greatly restricted,
compared with what was the case, the number of
the pensioners being considerably diminished.
Many of the army pensioners turn the wheels for
tamers at present

The allotment of gardens, which yield a partial
support t) the allottee, are another means of
cheap labour. The allotment demands a certain
portion of time, but is by no means a thorough
emplojnnent, but merely an "aid," and conse-
quently a vieaM, to low wages. Such a man has
the advantage of obtaining his potatoes and vege-
tables at the cheapest rate, and so can alfbrd to
work cheaper than other men of his class. It
was the same formerly with those who received
" relief'* under the old Poor-Lnw.

And even under the present system it has been
found that the same practic *. is attended with the
same result. In the Sixth Annual Report of the
Poor-Law Commissioners, 18 iO, at p. 31, there are
the following remarks on the subject : —

" Whilst upon the subject of relief to widows
in aid of wages, we must not omit to bring under
your Lordship's notice an illustration of the
depresxing aject which is produced by the prac-
tice of giving relief in aid of wages to widows
upon the earnings of females. Colonel A'Gourt
states :—

** ' As regards females, the instance to which I
have alluiletl presenU itself in the Portsea Island
Union, where, from the insufficiency of workhouse
accommodation, as well as from benevolent feel-
ings, small allowances of \*. 6rf. or 2*. a week
are given to widows with or without small chil-
dren, or to married women deserted by their
husbands. Having thu certain income^ howe^r
smcUl, thty are enahlcl to }rork at lo'tsr vages
than tA»se vko do not possesi VtU advantage.
The consequence is, that competition has enabled
the shirt and stay manufacturers, who abound in
the Union, and wbo furnish in great measure the
London as well as many foreign markets with
these articles of their tnide, to get their work

done at the extraordinary low prices of — stays,
complete, 9d. ; shirts, from Is. to \t. dd. per
dozen.

" * The women all declare that they cannot
possibly, after working from twelve to fifteen
hours per day, earn more than \s. 6d. per week.
The manufacturers assert that, by steady work,
is, to 6^. a week may be earned under ordinary
circumstances.

*' ' In the meantime tkr. danjand for icorln^omen
xncrMuas, and it is by no means unusual to see
band-bills posted over the town requiring from
500 to 1000 additional stitchers."

Such, then, is the chancter of the cheap workers
in all trades ; go where we will, we shall find the
low-priced labour of the tride to consist of either
one or other of the three classes alwve-mentioned ;
while the nifans by which this labour is brought
into operation will be generally by one of the
" systems of work" before specified.

The cheap labour of the rubbish-carters' trade
appears to be a consequence of two distinct ante-
cedents, viz., casual labour and the prevalence of
the contract sys'.em among builder's work. The
small-mastor system also appears to have some
influence upon it.

First as regards the influence of casual labour
in reducing the ordinary rate of wages.

The tables given at p. 290, vol. ii., showing the
wages paid toHhc nibbish-carters, present what ap-
pears, and indeed is, a strange discrepancy of pay-
ment to the labourers in rubbish-carting. About
three-fourths of the rubbish-carters throughout
Londonreceive ISir. weekly, when in work; in
Hampstead, however, the rate of their wages is
(uniformly) 20«. a week; in Lambeth (but less
uniformly), it is 19^.; in Wandsworth, 17x. ; in
Islington, 16x.; and in Greenwich, 14^. and 12j.
The character of the work, whether executed
for 12*. or 20.<. weekly, is the same; why, then,
can a rubbish-ciirter, who works at Hampstead,
earn 8.9. a week more titan one who works at
Cheenwich? An employer of rubbish-carters, and
of simihir labourers, on a large scale, a gentleman
thoroughly conversant with the subject in all its
industrial bearings, accounts for the discrepancy
in this manner: —

After the com and the hop-harvests have termi-
nated, there is always an influx of unskilled
labourers into Gravesend, Woolwich, and Green-
wich. These are the men who, from the natural
bent of their dispositions, or from the necessity of
their circamstiuces, resort to the casual labour
afforded by the rerolution of the seasons, when
to gather die crops before the weather may ren-
der the harvest precarious and its produce un-
sound, is a matter of paramount necessity, and
the increase of hands employed during this sea-
son is, as a consequence, proportionately great
The chief scene of such lab()ur in the neighbour-
hood of the metropolis, i* in the county of Kent ;
and on the cessation of this work, of course there
is a Urge amount of labour " tumetl adrift," to
seek, the next few days* for uny casual employment
that may ** turn up." In this way, I am auured,

336

'LONDOy LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

a large amount of cheap and unskilled labour U
being constantly placed at the command of those
masters who, so to speak, occupy the line of march
to London, and are, therefore, first applied to fur
employment hy casual labourers; who, when en-
gaged, arc employed as inferior, or unskilful,
workmen, at au inferior rate of remuneration,
(rreenwich may lie looked upon as the first stage
or halt for casual hbourers, on their way to Lon-
don.

My informant assured me, as the result of his
own obsifrvatioiis, that an English labourer would,
as a gi'neml rule, execute more work by one-sixth,
in a week, than an Irish labourer (a largo propor-
tion of the casual hands are Irish) ; that is, the
extent of w.trk which would occupy the Irishman
six, would occupy the Knglishman but live days,
were it so calculated. The Englishmaji was, how-
ever, uiually more skilled and persevprin,', and
far mure ti be depended upon. So different was
the amount of work, even in rubbish -carting,
between an able and cx}K>rienced hand and one
unused to the toil, or one inadequate from want nf
alertness or bodily strength, or any ,other cans.*,
to its fall find quick execution, that two "good"
men in a week have done as much work as throe
inliir-rent hand*. Thus two men at 18.*. wei-kly
eachare as cheap (only employers cannot always
sj'j it», wh'.'u they are thorough masters of thi-ir
business, as three unready hands at 12^. a week
eaih. The misfortune, however, is, that the Via.
a wo<'k men have a tendency to reduce the IC^.
to th«'ir I'.'vel.

With recard to the diflference between the
wa^'.'s »)f Ham|i'.t.M'l ami (*roen\vioh. Ij am in-
form"! that s!;itiijii.iry working; nilibi-ih-cartitrs an*
M'A t)o iiiiiu.Tom in Ilampst-ad, which is con<i-
diTi'd a< rather " out of the w.iy :"' and as that
nii'lr »p->liian suburb \^ anrroundeJ in every direc-
ti in by pasture-land and wood-latil, it is' n»i in
the \\\U'. nf rr.Mrt nf the claSj* u{ ni*Mi wh.> se«'k
the cuMial labour in harvesimjr, \c.. of which I
have >)n>k"!i: it ii rarely Ai-it«*d by th-'m. an-l
cjn-i'qn •nlly, th-j regular hands an' less interfen-d
with than elsowheri*, and wau'Si hav.- not been
dcteriorat-d.

The mode of work anionjr the w?nrf labounrs
ditr.Ts sonifwhat from l!:at of the honourable
part of thj trade ; the work executed by thi* !
scurf masters being for tin* most part on a more
liniiti'd s al" than that of the others. To meet
the deuMiui.-* of builders or of employers t^*ne-
rally, when "time" is an object, demands the use
of relays of mtsn, and of strong: horses. This
demand the smaller or scurf master cannot always
meet. He may lind men, but not always horses
Jind cart*, and he will often cnouifh undertake
work beyond his means and endeav«mr to a|.^an-
dise ills profits by screwing his labourers. The
ho'iin t'/ srni'/-f-mjt/u^fi'l /fifn/H,' are nominally the
sam- as the reirular tra-.le, but as an Irish carter
said. " it 'n ralely the hours the masther plases, and
they n* often as lonir as it's lif,'ht." The .♦'•'( >/
lahtmi-'ir i* ,.fun pai'f h.j lU dini, with "a day's
hire, and no notice beyond." I am informed
that scurf labourers generally work an hour a

' day, without extra remaneration, longer than thoie

I in the honourable trade.

The rubbish-carters employed by the Karf
masU-rs are not, as a body, I am assured, to badly
paid as th'^y were a few years back. It is rarely
that labouring men can advance any feasible
reason for the changes in their trade.

Oufi of thi niaiii cautei q/* (hi diteriorated waga
of the rubbish -carters is the system of contract-
ing and subletting. This, however, is but a
branch of the ramified system of inblettiDg in

; the constructiim of the " scamped" houses of the

' speculative builders. The building of such houses
is sublet, literally from cellar to chimney. The
rubbish -carting may be contracted fur at a cer-
tain sum. The contractor may sublet it to
ra-Mi who will do it for one-fourth leu perhaps,
and who may sublet the labour in their tarn.
For instance, the c:ilculation may be founded on

I the working men's receiving 15^. weekly. A

■ c mtractor, a man possessing a horse, perhaps, ani

■ a couple of carts, and hiring another horse, will
underuike it on the knowledge of his being able

' to engage men at 12«. or 13& weekly, and so
obtain a profit ; indeed the reduction of price in
such cases must all come out of the labour.

This subletting, I say, is but a small part of i

gigantic system, and it is an unquestionable cause

of the grinding down of the rubbish -carters'

wages, and that by a class who have generally

I been working men themselves, and risen to be

I the owners of one or two cirts and horses.

I Prom one of these men, now a working carter, I

I had the following account, which further illustrates

! the mode of labour as well as of employment.

! *■ 1 cr^t a little a-head," he stated, ** from

■ railway jobbing and such like, and my father-
in-law, as soon ai I got married, made me a
present of "Jn/. uui'xpecti-d. I sLirted for myself,
thinkin? to get on by degrees, and get a fresh

1 horse and c.irt every year. JJut it couldn't be
' done. sir. If I otf-red to take a contract to cirl
' the rubbish and dii{ it. a builder would say,—
' I can't wait : you haven't carts and horses
enouu'h from your own account, an«l I can't wait.
If you havi' to hire them I can do that myself."
. I was too honest, sir, in tellin:; the plain truth, or
I nii;;ht have got more jobs. It 's not a good
! tnide in a »m\\\ way, Ut if your horses aren't at
work, they're e.atini? their hwds off, and you're
fretting your heart out. Then I uot to do sub-con-
tracting, as you call it. No, it weren't that, it

was under-w.jrkinif. I 'd go to Mr. V as I

knew, and say, * You 're on such a place, sir, have
you room for me V • I think not.' he *d say, * I "ve
only the regular thing and no advantages — 10*. 6t/.
for a day's work, hor.se and cart, or 4*. a load.'
Those are the regular terms. Then I 'd say,
' Wdl, sir, I '11 d.» it for 8.*. Gi/., and be my own
carman;* and so perhaps I'd get the job, and
masters often say : ' I know I shall lose at
lUdT. 6<^, but if I don't, you shall have somethini*
over.' Get anything over I Of course not, sir. t
could have lived if I had consLint work for two
horses and carts, for I would have got a cheap
man; such as me must get cheap men to drive the

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

8sr

second cart, and under my own eye, whenever I
could ; but one of my poor horses broke his leg,
and had to be sent to the knacker's, and I sold the
other and my carts, and have worked ever since
as a labouring man; mainly at pipe-work. 0,
yes, and rubbish-carting. I get 18*. a week now,
but not regular.

** Well, sir, I 'm sure I can't say, and I think
no man could say, how much there's doing in sub-
contracting. If I 'm at work in Cannon-street, I
don't know what 's doing at Notting-hill, or be-
i yond Bow and Stratford. No, I 'm satisfied
there 's not so much of it as there was, but it 's
done so on the sly ; who knows how much is done
still, or how little 1 It's a system as may be
, carried on a long time, and is carried on, as &r as
men's labour goes, but it's different where
I there 's horses, and stable rent. They can't be
I screwed, or under-fed, beyond a certain pitch, or
they couldn't work at all, and so there 's not as
I much under-work about horse-labour."
{ These small men are among the scurf and petty

rubbish-carters, and are often the means of de-
pressing the class to which they have belonged.

The employment in the honourable trade at
rubbish -carting would be one of the best among
unskilled labourers, were it continuous. But it is
not continuous, and three-fourths of those engaged
in it have only six months* work at it in the year.
I In the scurf-masters' employ, the work is really
"casual," or, as I heard it quite as often de-
■ scribed, " chance." In both departments of this
trade, the men out of work look for a job in
I icavagery, and very generally in night-work, or,
' indeed, in any labour that offers. The Irish rub-
bish-carters will readily became hawkers of
I Apples, oranges, walnuts, and even nuts, when out
of employ, so working in concert with their wives.
I heanl oi only four instances of a similar resource
by the English rubbish-carters.

What I have said of the education, religion,
politics, concubinage, &c., &c., of the better-paid
mbbish-carters would have but to be repeated, if
I described those of the under-paid. The latter
may be more reckless when they have the means
of enjoyment, but their diet, amusements, and
expenditure would be the same, were their means
commensurate. As it is, they sometimes live very
barely and have hardly any amusements at their
command. Their dinners, when single men, are
often bread and a saveloy ; when married, some-
times tea and bread and butter, and occasionally
some "block ornaments;" the Irish being the
principal consumers of cheap fish.

The labour of the wives of the rubbish-carters
is far more frequently that of char-women than
of needle-women, for the great majority of these
women before their marriage were servant-maids.
All the information I received wa« concurrent in
that respect. The wife of a carman who keeps a
chandler's shop near the Edge ware-road, greatly
retorted to by the class to which her husband
belonged, told me that out of somewhere about 25
wives of rubbish-carters or similar workmen,
whom she knew, 20 had been domestic servants ;
what the others had been she did not know.

'* I can tell you, sir," said the woman, "charing
is iar better than needle-work ; far. If a young
woman has conducted herself well in service, she
can get charing, and then if she conducts herself
well again, she makes good friends. That 's, of
course, if they *re honest, sir. I know it from ex-
perience. My husband — before we were able to
open this shop — was in the hospital a long time,
and I went out charing, and did fisur better than a
sister I have, who is a capital shirt-maker. There's
broken victuals, sometimes, for your children. jilt's
a hard world, sir, but there's a many good people
in it."

One woman (before mentioned) earned not less
than 5s. weekly in superior shir^making, as
it was described to me, which was evidently
looked upon as a handsome remuneration for
such toil. Another earned 3«. 6d,; another
2s. 6rf. ; and others, with uncertain employ, 2s,,
Is. Qd., and in some weeks nothing. Needle-work,
however, is, I am informed, not the work of one-
tenth of the rubbish-carters' wives, whatever the
earnings of the husband. From all I could learn,
too, the wives of the under-paid rubbish-carters
earned more, by from 10 to 20 per cent, than those
of the better-paid. The earnings of a char-
woman in average employ, as regards the wives
of the rubbish-carters, is about 4s. weekly,
without the exhausting toil of the needle- woman,
and with the advantage of sometimes receiving
broken meat, dripping, fat, &c., &c. The wives
of the Irish labourers in this trade are often all
the year street-sellers, some of wash-leathers,
some of cabbage-nets, and some of firuit, clearing
perhaps from Qd, to 9d. a day, if used to street-
trading, as the majority of them are.

The under-paid labourers in this trade are
chiefly poor Irishmen. The Irish workmen in
this branch of the trade have generally been
brought up " on the land," as they call it, in their
own country, and after the suiferiags of many of
them during the famine, 12^. a week is regarded
as " a rise in the world."

From one of this class I learned the following
particulars. He seemed a man of 2G or 2S : —

" I was brought up on the land, sir,' he said,
" not far from Cullin, in the county Wexford. I
lived with my lather and mother, and shure we
were badly off. Shure, thin, we were. Father
and mother— the Heavens be their bed — died one
soon after another, and some friends raised me the
manes to come to this country. Well, thin,
indeed, sir, and I can't say how they raised them,
God reward them. I got to Liverpool, and walked
to London, where I had some relations. I sold
oranges in the strates the first day I was iu
London. God help me, I was glad to do any-
thing to get a male's mate. I 've lived on Qd.
a- day sometimes. I have indeed. There was 2d.
for the lodging, and 4^. for the mate, the t:iy and
bread and butter. Did I live harder than that in
Ireland, your honour ? Well, thin, I have. I 've
lived on a dish of potatoes that might cost a penny
there, where things is bhutiful and chape. Not
like this country. • No, no. I wouldn't care to go
back. I have no friends there now. Thin I got

oUS

LOXDOX L.i/ior/i AXh THK LOXhOX POOlL

iiigair-d liy a :n.iii yi^, \w \\\{\ ji nilihi.ih cirier •
to Iw.ti !iMi t'> iiu li:a c.irt, au<l (lie:! \v* mImI it on
S'uii ! m.'\v .: »ril-ii i;i"n;.id-». ami halt') shove! it
ab.Mi: i"> iiiak- ih- ..riaiiN livil, aloro ih/ top jjiil
\\M- }iiit":i, iiv liii» h'.i'Hifiii ilnwi'M aii'l th- uravel
wnixH. Tiai yi.». I. • vv.i< ucmnthryiiian of inino,
bill a Cir-rK ina:i ~>\ui !i ■ *ii miil»a Imd b.irs;aiti,
i'tv h.- \va< hal utV. aiii «•.« only clarrd 4.'. a l.ud,
aii.i hi' M ili\:dv' it. -.vi-i ni". \Vi' did six load.- in
a day. and I i.'"t 1 •. i-.i-.y \\\j)\i J.ir a wake.
This \va> a ri-^;*. iJiii mi ■ ^UIld.ly fvniin;; I wa*
itaii'ii:!:; taliiiiiif w.t.i ji-o;,!,; uh lived in t'lo aanirt
eurt, aiil I I-mI 1 luw 1 w.ii lulpiiu' Tun. And
iwii Kii.riiNhin-11 caiiu* to lind t'.iur uumi hi they
wa:ii.-i lor work, an I ouM ILijiii «U-,aau» t uild
ih'Mii what I wa* w.jr.iia,' for. Ana on-j ul" "em

saiil. I WAA -a h Iriali 1 1 il,* and ouid Uacin

Mil »«j, and wor.is c ism.' i«n. aad thia ih-.-n' wa* a
li.'ht, and ih.! pirM-.-et-! lisii-. aad iniii ih.; li.:ht
wan h.irliT. 1 wa-i taken t» ih-.- ."liliia, and ha i
a in »iali. I h.i I tvvi li ack eyi'i ne\i niiraini:,
hut w.in wiilin" to f'n y.'t and l«>r:,'ivr. X.i. I 'in
n »: {<•!; I of li^iiiin*. i ni a pavMhle m ii», s-lory
Ik* to tJid, ani I thin-; I was pat on. *Mi, yi!»,
ail I indi'.-d thin, yo;;:- h 'nour, it wa* a fair ti.;hl."

I i.iiir.'ii)! a:i .!i4.:»ii ruiilnshcarter as t>
th •<••■ l.i.r imriti. ![•' !;n.'w noihini; of the i»ne in
i[U"i: ..s. i».u ill I ^. ..| j.,i.'h ii.:!it4. Ti.ey wer«'
ii-.:n.!y a .i iij ::i • I.-., a t!i •inM';>e», hat snnetini>*.<(
IvUiis.ini • I ,vi«." " diM.vn into iln'in." "Fair
liiliiis ! >•.. il ■'.ml, ■• wiiy tile Irijihrsd m'tDtandnp
t » \o.i :.h ' in .,.. 'J'., 'v .1 .n': \\'\\\. l.ki'l?liriNliaii.s.
>\v: no: a i.n i-i »:. T.:.'y kuk. an.l scratch, and
I'll', a -i t;i!-. 'ik' il'V.^t. or cUh. or w>inen.
Til -y •■ M Ml .. "..i ir" v.<a cm i;:t an inniest
!•■• ••• ^:: ;■•.:.. t.ui;:;,n*l.M.y." '

'■ • * ■ » ■ 1 ./ ■■; :*. 1." 1 » . i.iii • i my lii^li i-i
* •:■. : I i'. ■■ a . i •: .-. ,. : i. • ' j, .n- • ;r i\' . m.- pn- • i.
1 t" •-. 1 lii-' . :i-.. .1 1 : I !? 1. 1 : ,-.. . J .t u-. th it
1 »^•»• .t !:•..: . «■.:■. ..;.•. «• il ;■• ;.. i:^.d. ;!t, i
i'!l!. t K'l' li"> {'•■'.V ■-. •" •.••:.« w.-I., J'.u."
^ t> ' •••iv .\:: I n .• .: i. ::..• ; .i,;.- • -ji •. .u.d we
..■■.••' .-.•,..•.■.» .,1 1, i.:.a. a:il \'My a:i>':\ !i • w i<i,
asi.i --.vA onrf.ii.iii. ■ •.%■.»♦ :« di-.:ru-" :■• r.-ii.-i »:i.a-i i

1 ' •■ ir • -i..:' t \ .1-! : : . ;,;:i:, 1> > I : .:n.\ .i- v.-.i-
^■■•■••j *•■ '■ -i .i...'.v-. :: ; A I'.. <•:■ h • w-'a!:..':
I:;-.. .-,■: ...

"1 :•" . ."t :■ ■.. :• .' ;>■..< .1 t.v i ii • :•> '.• -t •:•.■
J w i> •..:■• I f I- . ■ ... Il ! ... ;, Ao.k. Jt w.i.s Mi
I'!- *-.:y. :: :. | \.,y,-'. „. i „■■..;',, and ni'.'.i.h
a. • .^ ■' .1 ..\*, t." -M i:. •.:.:■;• <.t a i- in* .ii w.i'*
r'il ■:•;»•'. :i; h.it i.-.- .-.sLsiiir. .i,. inn iln- r.» .f. was
."''. t.i<-i: 1..;:;. r. • •.,.:. i.r rr.i;'! •>. m i ihi- •! lor
;»'■•.-, ;:i . .-. .ii: o.'i •. ri.'.iis in-ri- wi<. w.i<
>'':i.-'. ,' W...J i:.'a;f:t! h i-.-d woik, riiry;ny lli.-
'M'-. •: •- 1 :•• I.- ; .1 . y ,i:- ;.i:'..; • » l\w oa.:. T::-*
d.:-:..i!i' liir.ia. .. .1.1 i k-.:-. '. t. my m-. k. lor I
^\ '.» -v I a!: i\ ;• ,-..1 .s-.v .ir.o'si. l-j.i-ry man
vv..- .1. . V • . ^ ,.,i: .1 ;, ■ .. a ,' ly. an I 1 iM-in^a:
ii:. •■ •. .i.!\ i!ii I. .v.i, .^.1 >-,vt' •;. I iioii"i kiio.v wii I
.••'■• ''■ Tli! inivt'i.-r. 1 .1. ,.;...<•. Will, thill.

2 :. 1 «1 '■. I k I..-.V ••% i» w i5 I .-.• ma^thiM ; it w.i-
.^>'in IliH-y ai in.; .-I'.i ni--. ioil /'- V n) in:i««lhi'r,

1 .^, tii'.n, an-: I 'y h • mi \v...Aii' tint w \\ ivvv-r
.MM.-. I'v.- .s.ini.ais hid 11. a we k, and
.v)ni-li:iie.- I'l/., ani sonielinii- \'1<. A niialik''

nie nui5t uke what he can L'-^t. and I will tike it.

I 've h:*un out of work siiin>.'tinK'.<t, but wot s • much
' as 8oni", to:- 1 'in youm; ami i^troii)^. Xo, 1 imu'c

save n i m mey. and I have nothing ju-t now to
Siu.* it f«»r. Wlien i 'in out of work, 1 mi! fruit
in the street*."

Tui.s st.i-.":n«'nt, then, as regards the Irish
labitirefj, siiowi the quility of the dau ern*
ployed. The lintfiish Lib nireri, working cm the
same terms, are tif the usn.il clas:i of ni^'n so
workin-i. -bniken-d«»wii men, nn.ible, oraccounting
iheiiHi'.vea unable, to "d«» hetti»r," and m» accrpiiiig
any odcr ulbrdnig t:iu meaiij vX their daily bread.
!

U." tim: Lo.vi* 'S C:ilMNKv-Swiii:i'KiiN.

(^iii.M.Miv-.'^wKKi'iiUS are a consequenca of two
lhia.!^ — cniiuueys and tii-.' us** of c >.iU as fu .d ; and
(ii'.'ie are b kV. coann >dities of coinparaiiveiy receut
introduction.

It 1.1 generally admitted that the earliest men-
tioa of '.'t' .iM-'f." is in an Italian MS., preiorved
in Vmiee, in wnic.i it i% recorded that chiIun^yi
were thr'»»vn »lown in that ciiy t'ro.u thi* sh vk vi
an e.irihqtiako i.i 1^5 47. In Knu'land, down evea
t> the coianr'nciMUi'iit ot tiie rei>.;n nt Kli/abeth,
the ;;re.iter par: of iliu non-es in tuir town% had
no ehinineyt : the tire wa4 kindled on u heartii-
ston.' on th" tl >or. or on a rai»<.d iftate ag.iin»c the
wall or in t'l.* eesitre u\' th.' a:iari:neni, an.i the
s.n->ke iuund its way out of the doori, window*,
or ea«eni<'nt.«.

Unrinj: the loji^, and — 18 rei:ard«> civil strife—
generally }»i'i.:«'fnl, rei;::i of Iv.i/abeth. the use of
c.hiiii'i 'ys iMiTea-ed. In a i>!PCo:ir.*e preti.^ed I*
an rdiiion ot ll.i'.inshed*.^ "* • 'arniicles. iu l."i77,
lUriisM, i*i' writer, c »ni:»!.i!n'. aino:ij nth-.-r
t'-i-.M:'". •• m ir. ■«•'.; Mi-iy .'i.:-."'d I m- t "• \\.,Vj- :u
I..!!'.:. .u.d." «»; tl.'" nriii:tu.i-.' o: cn:i:::iiy.'» er-vi.'i
i«t i.i! •. " \».v w.' hiv.' m my c:i.i:i:i.-y.*." he
.'ly.i. "ani "ir t ■:id«M',.nj. c':n.»!a;i- «•; ri,ca:ii4,
cat i:rii*. am: p».'e%. Tneii w-.- ii.i i n 'ii.-* nut .• .•■
.''.' . an I >i:m' hi'idn d.d ii".er a%ae." ' ili' de-
la r:>, l »■», :» lli * ch-inj- la :'i:' ni.iir::;i. .-i wa.di
t.'i • ii 'ii-.M w.T." conHlruct • I : '• jloii'.r^ wcrc f'.Kc
I'.l.; l-'.i of ui.i'.v. ih M w.' ii I I o.i:; Ml Ul mi ; hit

II >w ti iu.'<.>s ar/ Mi.id • •■! n...; and oi,- m ..j ik»i
>r.'.\ ln'o;n' w'.lli>w, iuK a •.'."•■a', in i.y al*.o.;*:htr
u: stia.v, w:jic!i i.- a r'ore aii.T.il:".i.

' •• l{.TiM»«. •! — .1 ■• '•.•... Ir.; .; ,..'■ ■.•.-'... If:'. .'
.1 i- M :,;:4 !<> I'l. '.•■■• lili'irv ol \Ti i '. ■•li.T.-. »• U
"• t!ir W I I iM . .\-.-:: .i: •"n '.•i.-!% ul" .m ;i:{ .;, v^-j:. .\.-.;
11 \» I ii»:i.ill'. lOO i:i'-t!. i! \<> i:-\ ;• i*n,-,ii ,._. .\ . .. »>-i- ;ui \
l».'liiii<l in .ilt.ir. ;iMil ■..'•iii-ti..! •• •.\is i-.:r;. n • j ■., i>h i ;•■■••
il*. •■■ .»: II. :u- . 1» .:ir- • v. \' •> > i: it ». Ni.itMv-. .lol ■»?•.•:
Il I Ii itj.M-.. v..'ir. 1 w.-H- Pll- :i :i.iiii:o-l w :.i o..i.>t.il
rol ■III V

•• I'll- oji u liri- In-jrr'i. r:«''M':i'"it'v um->\ in i .cc".'
li I II ■.;:« fi I'l-. •• A" i » i-.M«' .:•.. .: .1 rrrei"''.

•• In I'l.- ill'.*- niM'i.i .i: Ilia im •••-. is\ • J t » I', i'::--?.. :"»
' I'liru'ii •if -,■ iVi- .1! .• t •! I til I ;■ iMi.-rl .. !i. Tim i-'..: i. . v*
»vi< » ...1 ii-ni ia i:ii-»M h m- -. • c it-": i»n.i :n • j • * i.- l:rt
I '.i'l'.t .1 ii'relo.,; iiit!i. Ml!., w. •••.■. I lu- •.inK.i.iii i«lri*"<J

III- 'lllMl.""

I .Mr ii.Mi;in.ii w-inl wouM apiM .it ti» Ik- -i ••■•: r.r .•*■'.•-
•.' .* .", f.ii K>*ih i!M. ill !ii% " \or n ni |)i(-:iit:i i,\ ,' iaj-Ii :1>
•!i w II 1 >'• . .1 ■• « tii «!.M :\ .1 fii".j n.; ««f i::i'..':>« •<
.:;k. "jIvtM, -If I'l*.; .. ,:k. Uii ..-r xiiiiv-Ii v.n •< .•: .::.vt
p.-iMiii ;;i'> ■'■l' ■il" ' tl>->' f" l» o!" .1 iMftSi !»• >fi?r .:>!%
wiir-l Ivin;,' I : iS'.'iiv .1 ^I.Mi\.•.t'^ .»: ui:.» Lu ii • .'■•.

j'n.- W.itk. It I .» I'..;. 1 i.-m- .i '., .', ;i ■• ,i "...n*.' >:.■''"

h.' n.: I ^U-. i»:n .« \i\,wk . .iii.J 'i.»- c carU rh.- ^.i ne of:.'i !'.
V , . ,•.-./ » or .• •■ r-i .f- ' w o-.iul ihn- api>e4r to ti ivc haea a

LOSDOX LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR,

339

In Shakespeare's time, the chimaey-s weepers
seem to have become u recognised class of public
cleansers^ for in " Cjrmbeline " the poet says-^

*« Fear no more the heat o* the »un,
Nor the furious winter's rages ;

Thou thy worldly task hast ^me.
Home art gone, and ta'cn thy wages :

Golden ladii and girls all must.
An chimnejf-Mceepent come to dust."

la this btfQiitiful passage there is an intimation,
by the " chimney-sweepers" being contrasted with
the ''golden lads and girls," that thoir employ-
ment was regarded as of the meanest, a repute it
be»ir8 to the present day.

But chimneys seem, like the "sweeps" br
'•' sweepers," to hare been a necessity of a change
of fuel. In the days of " rere-dosses," our an-
cestors burnt only wood, so tliat they were not
subjected to so great an inconvenience as we
should be were our fires kindled witliout the vent
of the chimney. Our fuel is coul, which produces
a grt^iitcr quantity of soot, and of black smoke,
which is tiie result of imperfect combustion, than
any other fuel, the smoke from wood being thin
and pure in comparison.

The first mention of the use of coal as fuel
occurs in a charter of Henry III., granting licence
to the burgesses of Newcastle to dig for coal. In
1281 Newcastle is s:iid to have had some slight
trade in this article. Shortly afterwards coul
began to be imported into Loudon for the use of
Miitlis, brewers, dyers, soap-boilers, &c. In
1816, during the reign of Edward I., its use in
London was prohibited because of the supposed
injurious influence of the smoke. In 1 600 the use
of coal in the metropolis became universal ; about
200 vessels were employed in the London trade,
and about 200,000 chaldrons annually imported.

In 1848, however, there were, b(*sides the
railway-borne coals, 12,207 cargoes imported, or
3,418,340 tons. The London coal trade now
employs 2700 vessels and 21,600 seamen, and
constitutes one-fourth of the whole general trade
of the Thames.

To understand the neiysilty for chimney-sweepers,
and the extent of the work for them to do, that is
to my, the quantity of soot deposited in our
cliimneys during the combustion of the three and n
balf millions of tons of coals that arc now annually
consumed in London, we mu:>t first comprehend the
conditions npon which the evolution of soot depends,
ioot being simply the fine carbonaceous particles
condensed from the smoke of coal fuel, and de-
posited against the sides of the chimneys during
its ascent between the walls to the tops of our

I placed hehhui anything. I am told, that in the old
houses in the north of Kngbnd. erection^ at tlie bacl( of
die fire may. to thiit day, occ<ktionally be seen, with an
aperture behind for the insertion of plates, and such
other things as may require wannin;;.

A correspondent says tlicrc is ** a ' rercdos,* or oficn
fire-hearth, now to be !>een in the; extensive and beau-
tiful ruinn of the Abbey of St. .Vgatha, in the North
Riding of Yorkshire. The ivy now hangs over and
partially conceals this reredos; but its form is tole-
rably perfect, and the stones are still coloured by the
action of the Arc. which was extinguished, I need
hardly say, by the cold water thrown on such places by
Henry vfll.'^

houses. These conditions appear to have been
determined somewhat accurately during the inves-
tigations of the Smoke Prevention Committee.

There are two kinds of smoke from the ordinary
materials of combustion — (A) OpaoMy or black
smoke ; (B) Ti-a-MfM^tnl, or invisible smoke.

A. The Opaque smoke, though the most offen-
sive and annoying from its dirtying properties, is,
like the muddiest water, the least injurious to
animal or vegetable health. It consists of the
particles of unconsumed carbon which have not
been deposited in the form of soot in the flue or
chimney. This is the black smoke which will be
further described.

B. Tramparfnt smoke is composed of gases
which are for the most part invisible, such as car-
bonic acid and carbonic oxide ; also of sulphurous
acid, but smokes with that component are both
visible and invisible. The sulphurous acid is said
by Professor Br.inde to destroy vegetation, for it
has long been a cause of wonder why vegetation
in towns did not flourish, since carbonic acid
(which is so largely produced from the action of our
fires) is the vital air of trees, shrubs, and plants*.

)* It has been notorious for many years, that flowers
will not bloom in any natural luxuriance, and that fruit
will not properly ripen, in the heart of the city. Whilst
this ij< an unque^iionabie fact, it is also a fact, that
greatly as suburban dwellings have increased, and trulv
as Londo.-i may be said to have " gone into the country, '
the greater quantity of the large, excellent, unfailing,
and cheap supply of the ftuita and veeeUbles In the
London " green" markets are grown within a circle of
from ten to twelve miles from St, Paul's. In the course
of my inquiries lin the series of letters on Labour and
the Poor m the Min-ninff Chrnnide) into the aupply, &c.,
to the •• green markets" of the metropolis, I was told by
an experienced market -gardener, who had friends and
connections in several of the suburbs, that he fancied,
and others in the trade were of the same opinion, that
no gardening could be anything but a failure if attempted
within " where the fogs went.' My informant explained
to me that the fogs, so peculiar to London, did not
usually extend bevond three or four miles from the
heart of the city. He was satisfied, he said, that
within half a mile or so of this reach of fog the gar-
dener's lalMurs might be crowned with success. He
knew nothing of any scientific reason for his opinion,
but as far as a purely London fog extended (witliout
regard to any mist pervading the whole country as well
as the ncighbourluTod of the capital), he thought it was
the Ixnmdary within which thure could be no proper
growth of fruit or flowers. That the London fog na>« its
limiU as regards the inanifestatiim of its greatest density,
there cm be no doubt. My informant was frt-quently
asked, when on his way home, by omnibus drivers and
others whom he knew, and mot on their way t(» town a
few miles from it : " How 's the fog, sir ? Hmv/arf"

The extent of the London fog, then, if the informa-
tion 1 have cited be correct, may be considered as in-
dicating that portion of the metropolis where the
population, and consequently the smoke, is the thickest,
and within which agricultural and horticultural la-
bours cannot meet with success. " The nuisance of
a November fog in London," Mr. Booth stated to
the Smoke Committee, "is most assuredly hicreascd
by the smoke of the town, arising from fumaci-s and
private Arcs. It Is vapour saturated with particles
of carbon which causes all that uneasiness and pain in
the lungs, and the uneasy sensations which wc experi-
ence In our heads. 1 have no doubt of the density of
these fogs arising from this carbonaceous matter."

The loss from the impossibility of nroinoting vM>eta-
tion in the district most subicctcd to the fog Is nothing,
as the whole ground Is already <X!cunied for the thousand

Kurposes of a Rteat commercial city. The matter is,
owever, highly curkms, as a result of the London

Conoeraing the frequency of fogs In the dbtrict of the
immediate neighbourhood of the metropolia, it U sUted
in Weale's " London,"that fogs •• appear to be owing. 1st*

^

310

LOXDOX LA noun AND THE LOXDOX POOR.

I may here oliservc, that severa! of the scu-iititic
mpii who gave the rc'iiiUi of j'ean of oliservatioii
and study in their evidence In the Committee of
the House of Commons, remarked on the popul.ir
misunderstanding of wliat smoke was^ it being ge-
nerally regarded .is something vtMhle. But in the
composition of imoke, it appe.irs, one product may
l>e visible, and another invisible, and both offen-
sive ; while " occasionally you m-iy h.ive from the
same materials varieties of prodiicts, all i:i visible,
according to the manner tu which tlicy arc supplied
with air."

The Committee requested D:. Kcid to prepare
a definition of ** smuke/' a:id more especially of
'' black smoke." The fullnvin;; is tiie substance
of the doctor's definition, or rather description :- -

1. Jiltt't SiHoki consists essentially of caiboa
separated by heat from coal or other combustibl<*
bodies. If this smoke b_* produced at a very high
temperature, the carbon furais a hmse and pnw-
dery soot, comparatively fri-e from oth-r sub-
■tinces; while the loAi-r tiie temporatme ;it
Wiiich bl.ick Bwt is furmed, the laru'iT ii the
amount of other subsLmces with wnich it it
mingled, among which are the follow! n:» :— vur-
bjn, water, resin, oily and other intl.unmable
products of various volatilities, ammonii, and
cai'bonat? of ammonia.

When the ciirb-jii, oils, resin, and water are
associated tigcther in oTUiin propnr:i nn. th-y "
constitute tar. ,s'.;/V ^iHr/t is producrd if ihe tjir
be 80 far heatol that tiie water is expelled : and
hard pitcfi (reiin blackened by carbon) wht-u the
oils arc vulatilized.

In all iM<"S (»f ordiniry r.j:nbiistion, carb-inic
.'uid i> funned by th'.* r-.i-ii -t cindi.T«, u;- by tfasfs
• II- other compounds c -Mtrniii;: carbon, artii:j (»n
the oxyjjen of tiic air. Tir.H cariionic acid is
disk-hargetl in genor.il as an imi ii>i> i;.w. 1: t'l-
carbonic acid p:v3S tliMuuh r.-Midt L\:id..T5. or any
carbmiceDUs smoke at a i.ijn te-.nperit'ire, it
loses one particle of ^^xy^-ix, ami b-'CMiin-s car-
bonic oxide gas. "£\vi ioat uxyu'en, uiiitMii; w.::i •

tuthr prescnrc of tlic ri\tr: .irul. -.^ii'liy, t . thf f u-t t»:,Ar
thi' hupcriiir toiii|HT.ituir m' t!u> tov.:) )mi.1i:i-i •. rvsint^
prL'ciscl> niiriilar to thn-i* we li'il tij i^vir u;» m rivi'.>
auil lakt's. The i>ol<( «i iiiip (.'iirniit-i of tlic it:Mo>p;u>ri'.
which cannot act up >:i the jiir «>i" the r«).i!itrv il.>trif-.-.
owing til thi- i-qu.-ilily of their ^pi-cific f^iivity. \iU.»\
they encouMtt-r the w.iniuT ;in<l lighter >\..\\.i «ivi-r ih.-
town, (lionUu'c the litti r. inter;ni\iii/ with ii .ml ro-|.
lieu-iri^ iht' iiioislurv. Fhk* \\n\* aie otlru to h? o!>-
li'.rvi'il in Loii'io'i, wlul-.i the •>urriiii:iJin„' lo.intrv u
entirely free from thcin. The peculiar t<>l:»iir of "ih*-
J^mdon fo.js a|»pi'iirs to \w o\% in^ i«» the f-irt ih;ii, ihiriii,;
their urcN.-ileiuv. the .isi-ent of thi' nul wiokiM-. nnpeil'.-l.
;um1 that it is tlm* inixi-l with tFio ciriil:;.»-sy(l inoi<tif>
of ilie nlinotpherc. A^ is .veil kn n\'.i, th- y arc oficu p«>
dense AH to require the ^1% t-.i oc i f^hlci in ini«l<lay. .i<i;t
they cover the town with .i iiin.t diiyv .iivl dcpn-siiii.,'
lull. They .iN > frcijuciitly cxhihii tiie p'-iliirily <:f
incrt\i<.in;; density jilicr ihcir lir^t furiuitio i, wljicli >
.ippc.irs to b," owin^ to the d.-.ci'Ut of frc<h currv.iis
of colli air tuwar.t-i the li^h'.c: rcfiioiis n\: t'le a:i:o-
f^phere,

" They do not »>ccur wh(:> the wiml i< in a flrvunrrc:.
as fi»r iu^t.uKv wlu-n it is in the .-ast ; n itwith-: .'.idiiu'
that tfuTc iii.iy be \(;ry r in il.r.mlc dirt.r • :.-.• im t!ie
temp^ritorcof iheair a-.idof l>ie water or tli- cr.Min I.
Th'.> iwcuii.ir ixUnir which attend-, fi • F- >•! I ):i fo'- h i-t
not yet be?n s.iiisf.-utordv explum-.l: .il:h.»u •!» the iim-
rorinity of it» n-urriMice. anl it < very niarkel v h iravt.r.
would appc.tr to ehaUea;;c cl ib:iralc cxaiun i:i .-i.'

carbon, forms an additional amount of carbonic
oxide gas. wiiich passes to the external atmosphere
as an invisible gis, unless kindled in its progress,
or at the top of the chimney, when its tempen-
ture is sutliciently el -vatei by the action of air.
Carbonic oxide gas burns with a blue flame, and
produces citrbonic acid g:is.

Black smoke is always ass>»ci.ited with ca^
burctted iiydrogen giues. These may be mechani-
cally blended with the oils and retdns, but must
bj carefnily distini;ui>hed from them. They
form more essentially, when in a sttte of c:>m-
bustion, til J inri.iuini.ible matters that constitute
tlane.

2. ^'^.ii-ikf: jr>nii (. 'ii a:r f.l, f' > 1-: ,au'l A ntJtinicit:,
U alvv.iys invisible if ttie miteriai be dry. A
il imc m.iy ai'ue.ir, however, if carbonic oxide be
formed.

6. W'o'nl III' /*./)•.>':'./ ii«. I iw .SiiioZc is rarely
black. Watvr and carbonic acid are the products
ot the full combustion of wo id, omitting the coo-
sidemtion of the a«h tnat remains.

4. Saljtharo!* M.-hoW*. Ton 4 of sulphor are
annually evolved in variius condi lions from copper-
w irks. Offensive suipburou!< smokes are often
evolved from various clieinical works, as g.is- works,
acid-works, 6ic,

u. JJf/'lrodtlut'ii A'-'il S.A'jh is evolved in
general in litrge quantities from alkali works.

G. M'.tallicASmol-^^ — when ores of lead, copper,
ars:^nic, \c., are used — ofum contxun ofTeniive
matter in a minute btau.* of division, and sai-
p jaded i:i tiie sinokf evolved from the furnaces.

7. PtUr.-Acntif 'SiH'/ir^j, loaded with the products
of decayed aniniai ani ve^^e table m.itter, ar«
<v.):v-d at lim'.*!« i:"o:n drains in vi*i!)le v.ipouri,
:n TO e?jie<.i;illy in d iMip woalluv. The Icetid pv-
t.v.i'.'<. .vheii aiS'iciiit "d with m.»i.sture in thii
K n ik',', .ire entirely dccjaiposed wiien suiijected tj
he.it.

i)r. I're say.^. sj-akinj; of tiie cause of tae
ouUnary dI I'.k aiiiuk • .li) )ve described. " The ia-
ev.iabui C'lMveraioji o". atuuispii-nc air into car-
h )ni'.' ajid h:n lii'*ii iiitherio tJie radiuil defect of
aim ijit ail luniaoes. The c risefiiience is, that
thi". tf i*-Mus niatt'T i< ini.vod \v:: i .m atmospiiere
cintaiuiir/ far to » l.f.Ir* o'cytje:!, a-id in*:eidof
biiniin^ t'l'.' cirma and iiydroL;eii, wiiicli c.:*Jiili-
tiU* th'.' c>a' Liisf*. liie c.irii)ii is deposited pir:ly
in a pa'.viri/,"d torji. cuMstitulinjj .-iinoke or tojl,
and a great -lea; of the c.irb.ni pets half-burn:,
and t'ir.ns win: i:: w -Il kn r.vn under tiie iliiqi*
oi cirb.niio oxid-, wliicii is ii.ilt-bui-nt charcvial."

'• Tiie ordinary urn ».-\e,' Trofessor Faradjy
said, m his ex.iiui:j:iii.Mi b'.'f»re the l.'.inni.ltee,
'is llie visible l»la k pirt of tic product*, the
iiiil»iir:it pirii-ms of l i • carb ):i. If you prevent
tht; pr'»d.:Ltl »ii of ci'Muji^' oxid.* or carbini: acid,
yo-.i increase tli' pi'-xliulim of fi.i "kc. You i:ii«*t
wiiii c )ai fu -1 eitiiv.T have carbine a.id or ui.dc,
or eUf black >:nok''.

'• Wnicli i^ lii • l-a-t jioxiou*'r" he w.is asked,
a.id aris'.vereJ, " A* tar ;u re^'irds hodth, c.irbonic
acid and c.ir.)0:iic oxide ar-.> most n-ixini4 to
health; b.it it i< n )t k> inuL-':i a iiii-.'stion of
h«M!t!i as of ciea'ilm "ss and C'».nfirt, bec:iii?e I

LONDON LABOUR AXD THE LONDON POOR,

341

believe that this town is as healthy as other
places where there are not these fires.

" It is partly the impure coal gas evolved after
the fresh charge of cn:il wliich originates the
smokes, when not properly supplied with air ; but
it is a very mixed question. When a fresh
charge of coal is put upon the fire, a great quan-
tity of evaporable matter, which would be called
impure coal gas according to the langunge
of the question, is produced; and ns that mut-
ter travels on in the heated place, if there be a
sufficient supply of air, both the hydrogen and the
carbon are entirely burnt. £ut if there be an
insufficient supply of air, the hydrogen is taken
possession of first, and the ctrbon is set free in its
black and solid form ; and if that goes into the
cool part of the ciiinmey before fresh air gets to
it, that carbon is so carried out into the atmo-
sphere and is the smoke in question. Generally
speaking, the great rush of smoke is when coal is
first put on the fire ; and that from the want of a
sufficient supply of oxygen at the right time,
because the carbon is cooled so low as not to take
fire."

This eminent chemist stited also that there
was no difference in the ultimate chemical effect
upon the air between a wood fire and a coal fire, but
with wood there was not so much smoke set free in
the heated place, which caused a difference in the
gaseous products of wood combustion and of coal
combustion. He thought that perhaps wood
was the fuel which would be most favourable to
health as affecting the atmosphere, inasmuch as it
produced more water, and less carbonic acid, as
the product of combustion.

What may be called the pccnh'arittfs of a
imoky and sooty atmosphere are of course more
strongly developed in London than elsewhere, as
the following curious statements show : —

Dr. Reid, in describing metropolitan smoke,
ipoke of *' those black portions of soot that ev<^ry
one is familiar with, which annoy us, for instance,
at the Houses of Parliament to such an extent
that I have be»*n under the necessity of putting
up a veil, about 40 feet long and 1 2 feet deep, on
which, on a single evenin*^, taking the worst kind
of weather for the production of soot, we can
count ocaisionally 200.000 visible portions of soot
excluded at a single sitting. We count with the
naked eye the number of pieces entangled upon a
square inch. I have examined the amount de-
posited on different occasions in different parts of
London at the tops of some houses ; and on one
occasion at the Horse Guards the amount of soot
deposited was so great, that it formed a complete
and continuous film, so that when I walked upon
it I saw the impression oi my foot left as dis-
tinctly on that occasion as when snow lies upon
the ground. The film was exceedingly thin, but
I could discover no want of continuity. On other
occasions I have noticed in London that the quan-
tity that escapes into individual houses is so
great that in a single night I have observed a
mixture of soot and of hoar frost collecting at the
edge of the door, and forming a stripe three-
quarters of an inch in breadth, and bearing an

exact resemblance to a pepper and salt grey cloth.
Those that I refer to are extreme occasions."

Mr. Booth mentioned, that one of the gar-
deners of the Botanic Garden in the Regent's-
park, could tell the number of days sheep had
been in the park from the blackness of their wool, \
its oleaginous power retaining the black. I

Dr. Ure informed the Committee that a column
of smoke might be seen extending in different ;
directions round London, according to the way of }
the wind, for a distance of from 20 to 30 miles ; |
and that Sir William Herschel had told him that
when the wind blew from London he could not !
use his great telescope at Slough. |

It was stated, moreover, that when a respirator
is washed, the water is rendered dirty by the par- |
tides of soot adhering to the wire gauze, and '
which, but for this, would have entered the
month. I

Professor Brande said, on the subject of the |
public health being aflfected by smoko, " I cannot
say that my opinion is that smoke produces any
unhealthiness in London ; it is a great nuisance
certainly ; but I do not think we have any good
evidence that it produces disease of any kind."

'* This Committee," said Mr. Beckett, " have
been told that, by the mechanical effects of smoke
upon the chest and lungs, disease tiikes place ;
that is, by swallowing a certain quantity of
smoke the respiratory organs are injured ; can you
give any opinion upon that ]" — " One would con-
ceive," replied the Professor, "that that is the
case ; but when we compare the health of London
with that of any other town or place where they
are comparatively free or quite free from smoke,
we do not find that difference which we should
expect in regard to health."

Mr. E. ^?olly, lecturer on chemistrj' at the
Royal Institution, expressed his opinion of the
effect of smoke upon the health of towns : —

" My impression is," he said, " that it produces
decided evil in two or three ways : first, mechani-
cally ; the solid bl.ick carbonaceous matter pro-
duces a great deal of disease; it occasions dirt
amongst the lower orders, and, if they will not
take pains to remove it, it engenders disease. If
we could do away the smoke nuisance, I believe a
great deal of that disease would be put an end to.
But there is another point, and that is, the bad
effects produced by the gases, sulphurous acid and
other compounds of that nature, which are given
out. If we do away with smoke, we shall still
have those gases; and I have no doubt that
those gases produce a great part of the disease
that is produced by smoke."

On the other hand Dr. Reid thought that smoke
was more injurious from the dirt it created than
from causing impurity in the atmosphere, although
" it was obvious enough that the inspiration of a
sooty atmosphere must be injurious to persons of a
delicate constitution." Dr. Ure pronounced smoke,
in the common sense of visible black smoke, un-
wholesome, but " not so eminently as the French
imagine."

Many witnesses stated their conviction that
where poor people resided amongst smoke, they

\

3-1 -2

LOXDOX LADOrR AXD THE 10X00^' POOH.

ftflt it irapos»iMc to preserve clcanlineAA in their
perit'uis or their dwellintfs, and that niailc them
cari'Ii^sii of their htimes and indifferent to a decency
nf appi'arjinoi'. so that the public hou*e, and places
where cli'aiiIint"iH and jiropriety were in n«» gr«'at
estimation, bfcanio places of frequent r«'*<»rt, on the
]il:iin principli; that if a man's home were unconi-
fort.ihic, ho was not likely to stay in it.

" I think,*' Kiiil Mr. Jionih, "one creat elV«*ct
of the evil nf sm.ike is upon the dwellnigs of the
poor ; it HMiders thini less attentive to their per-
sonal nppi'anince, and, in conseqnence, to their
Micial cinidiii-Mt."

It wn.< also st-ited that tlwre wero "certiiin dis-
tricts inlinbited hy the poor^ where they will not
han<; out thuir clothes to bech-aniKHl: they say it is
of no use to do it, tiiiy will becomi? diity as hefore,
ami consi'qnently they do not have tlioir clulhcs
wa.*hrd." The ilistncts siu-eitied .is presenting
this chararti'ristii' an? St. (ieorir«'»-in-the Knst and
the neigh honrh<iod of ()l«l street. St. Luke's.

It nuist not be ]o.4t siu'ht of. that wiuitcvcr evils,
moral or physical, without reL'ardinjj men-ly |m»cu-
niary loosest, are iiii]ict>'d by tht- exee,<s i»f smoke,
they fall upon the p<M>r, and almost solely on the
poor. It is tht» piii>r who nin.it mirh'. as was
8:1 id, and with a lit"rali;y not often ap]ilicable to
{H)pular plir.ises, " in the thuk of it," and con-
serpiently there nniAt either ho increased was^liing
or increased dirt.

To elVect tlie mitigation of the nuisance of
smoke, two pnints wen* cunsidereil :■ -

A. The substitution of some other material,
containing h-^-s bituminous matter, fnr the " New-
castle eoal.'

J». Tlif conibu^ilcin of tho .imoko, bef«ire its
onii"''!"!! iui'i l.Jf atni ('.[•lu'iir iiir, by nu-ans of
nmliair.cal iii!Uriv:u:i !••» Inundrd onseientilic priu-
cipiis.

As rrpanls tlio first n.nsideration ('A» it was
retomnhiidfd that anlliiaeiii', «»r >toiii- WeUh
c')a]. whiih is a siimko'us:* fufi, simuld b' UM'd
iiii'.oad of \\u> Ncwr:nile coal. This eo:il i.i almost
thi' S"le fml III I'iiilaJclpliia. a city of l^>iiak«;r
ncatiios-i lii-yoiid any in the Tniti'd States of
N'.irtli .\n»'.Tiia, aii<i H>)motimei represent"'*! as tim
cI'MUi-t in tiie v».irid. Tin* anliiraiiie ca! i.s
scmowhai di-aicr tiian Newcu.<tii' coal in London,
but only ill a mii;i'.1 df^roe.

('•.{•■ w.n jiN'i n c'Minninded as a substitnto for
coiil in jiriv;;'!- ilwi'i.in'j".

"All- \MU .»f ojiini 'U. " Dr. Reid was asked.
•' that «:ii"ki" mny hi,- in a ure.it measure pre\entcd
by extciuiin^ the u.-- of ;»aN and I'oko.'' lie
an-jwered. *" in launeri-us citien, w hero lame qiian-
liti'.* of 'ja* aii' i-r "luced, coko is very Irequ -nily
llh' iirii!ci|i;il fu-'l ot tin? poor, and the diliiculty of
liLiltin:; that ■. -k". and the »iil!icu(ty oi having
heat ilvVil(ijM"i hy i*. i:i .iiitliciint qiianlity. necen-
.-siriiv !e<l me to li».«k at t!ie conT.truciion of thi*
lir..-pi.!i-.'S adant.-:! f-ir it. And on a iien'-nil n?-
vi-w of til,. que<tii<n, I do entertain the opinii»n.
that if "'iikaiiMii wep* more extended anioHL'^l the
humblest elaSM. s with respivt to the eton<«niy id"
their <iwii tirojido »I mean, litenilly, tiie fire-place.

I at present), and if gas were greatly extended, so
that thoy did not drain the coal of the gns-worki
of the la^t dn'gs of ga«enus matter, which are of
very little use <is gap, and more to be considered
as adding to the bulk for sale than as valuable

. gas. that a coke might be left which would be

. oiisily atveudible, wliich would be economical, and
which, if introduced into fire-piace« where an opc-n
tire is de.*ired, would tntirtly remoir thi nvC€»4ity
0/ fr.tpiuii chituntii* t'vu »-ith maehlncSf nnd

I would nt the ssune time give as (Economical a tire
as any ordinary fire-place can produce, fur an

I ordinary co;il fire rarely is powerful in its calorific
emanations till the mass of gas has been expelled,

I and we see the diorryred firi». The amount of
gas that has e<«capod previoujkly to the production
or coking of the tire, is the gas that is valuable in
a manutaetory, and if therofore the individual
consumer conbl have, not the hnrd-burnt stony
coke, but tiie soft coke, in the condition thit
w.oild give at once a cherry -red tire, we should
attain the two ureat idijects of economising eas,
and at the same time of having a lively cheenul
lire. Then this b'd mo to look [•articularly atth«
price of a giis lamp for a poor man. In a pnor
man's family, wlfre th^^ breakfa^t. the tea aod
dinner, require the principal attention, and he has
sumo plain cooking utonftils. in the heat of »umnier
I bolieve that he will produce as much heat as he
wants for those purpo«ies from a single burner,
which can be tuntod on and left ail day, which
shall not ri:«k any boiliiig over, and by having this
pure heat directed ti ilie objeit to be H'armeJ,
instead of havini: a heavy iron grate, this plan
wouhl. if gas were fjejuMally introduced even into
the Ininiblest a|aitment*. prove a gr»-at source «»f
ectinomy in summiM*."'

Dr. Iloiil al"i> toLl the Committee that thifre
was a i:reat prejudice auain^t the use of eke,
many por^tms eon.-ideiing tiiat it iroduced a
suiphuroii"* .sinoil ; but as all or.iiiiarv ct» il etkked
itself, tir bec.ime coke in an ojn-n f-ro, and was
never piwerlnliy eaioiiru* till it iM-cime cok •. the
[•rcjndico would di.* away.

Very little U said ni the Tlep. rt ab.iut th-
smoko of piivate hows.*.- : an aliasims. h iwev.-r. is
made to that porii-m ot th.- invi->tiL;itlon : - " Y'Ur
(.'•■mniiitee i;ave rtcei\«u th- nioj^t gratifvir.u'
a^<-urance.s of th-» ei-nri ler.t hope ontortain«:d ly
several of the higii- st ifcieniinc autliuritie-^ o\a-
mineil by them, that the Mack sni"ke jrri-ceedin?
from fires in |iri\ate(lv,eliim.'"<, ainl all •>:lier idat-e?.
may eventiialiy bo «'ntirel\ nrovonted. «*itlrer by liie
aii«»{ition i»f htoves and iriate- fonno»l f.-r a perfect
conibu.-lion "f the comniiMi iiitiimii! -iis «o:il, nrhy
till" use of c«ike, or of anihracili^ : b-jt they are c,\
oniiilon that tlio pre-ieiit knowlriiijo on that siii-iwl
i> ni»l >uch as to iu>tM"\ any loirislativo iKlvrferouC''
witii tiieso sm.iilor firt s."

*• I ••Mriuld. in jirospect."' Trofessor Riraday Kiid
to the ('<):iimitteo, '• loik forward to ihi? po^sihi, ty
"i" u ;.'roat rodiicti'Mi -if t!ie .«moke from coal tires
iii hou'cs : hut my impresjtion i:". inat, in tiie pre-
sent stall- of ti:in'j.<. it would be tyraii:iic:il t> de-
termine that tiiat iiiiiitt bo diuie witiiji .it pn.'«eitt
we do not kimw can be kV^-.v. Stiij, I think there

LONDON LABOUR AND TUB LONDON POOR,

348

is reason to believe that it can be effected in a [
vcrv hiyh degree." |

Dr. Ure also thought that to extend any smoke
enijctment to prJTate dwellings might be tyranni- I
cal in the present ttate of the chimneys, but he
had no doubt that smoke might be consumed in
fires in private dwellings.

Such, then, are the causes and remedies for
smoke, and consequently of soot, for smoke, or
rather opaque «moke, consists, as wo have seen,
of merely the gases of combustion with minute
particles of carbon diffused throughout them ;
and as smoke is the result of the imperfect
burning of our coals, it follows that chimney-
sweepers are but a consequence of our ignorance,
and that, as we grow wiser in the art of econo-
mising our fuel, we shall be gradually displacing
this branch of labourers — the means of prevent-
ing smoke being simply the mode of displacing
the chimney-sweepers— and this is another of the
many facts to teach us that not only ore we dou-
bling our population in forty years, but we are
likewise learning every year how to do our work
with a less number of workers, either by invent-
ing some piece of mechanism that will enable one
"hand" to do as much as one hundred, or else
doing away with some branch of labour altoge-
ther. Here lies the great difficulty of the
time, A new element — science, with its offspring,
steam — has been introduced into our society within
the last century, decreasing labour at a time when
the number of our labourers has been increasing
at A rate unexampled in history; and the problem
is. how to reconcile the new social eUment with
the old social institutions, doing as little injury as
possible to the community.

Suppose, for instmce, the "smoke nuisance"
entirely prevented, and that Professor Faraday's
prophecy as to the great reduction of the smoke
from coal fires in houses were fulfilled, and that
the expectations of the sanguine and intense
Commiltec, who tell us that they have "received
the most gratifi/ing assurances of the confident
hope entertained by several o( tlie hlghgt scientifie
authorities, that the black smoke proceeding from
fires in private dwellings and all other places may
be eventually tntirely prevented," — suppose thnt
these expcctiitions, 1 say, be realized (and there
appears to be little doubt of the matter), what is
to become of the 1000 to 1500 "sweeps" who
live, as it were, upon this very smoke? Purely
the whole community should not suffer for them
it will be sjiid. True; but unfortunately the I
same argument is being applied to each particular
section of the labouring class,— and the labourers
make up by far the greater part of the community. |
If we are daily dijjplacin^ a thousand labourers by
the annihilation of this process, and another '
thousand by the improvement of that, what is to
be the fate of those we put on one side? and
where shall we find employment for the hundred
thousand new " hands " that are daily coming
into existence among us? This is the great pro-
blem for earnest thoughtful men to work out !

But we have to d^al here with the chimney-

sweepers as they are, and not at they may be
in a more scientific age. And, first, as to Ot^
qmnlity of soot annually deposited at present in
the London chimneys.

The quantity of soot produced in the metro-
polis every year may be ascertained in the fol-
lowing manner : —

The larger houses are swept in some instances
once a month, but generally once in three months,
and yield on an average six bushels of soot
per year. A moderate-sixed house, belonging to
the " middle class," is usually swept four times a
year, and gives about five bushels of soot per
annum ; while houses occupied by the working
and poorer classes arc seldom swept more than
twice, and sometimes only once, in the twelre-
month, and yield about two bushels of toot
annually.

The larger houses — the residences of no-
blemen and the more wealthy gentry — may,
then, be said to produce an average of six
bushels of soot annually ; the houses of
the more prosperous tradesmen, about five
bushels; while those of the humbler classes
appear to yield only two bushels of soot per
annum. There are, according to the last returns,
in round numbers, 300,000 inhabited houses at
present in the metropolis, and these, from the
" reports " of the income and property tax, may
be said to cpnsist, as regards the average rentals,
of the proportions given in the next page.

Here we see that the number of houses whoso
average rental is above 60/. is 63,840; while
those whose average rental is above 80/., and
below 60/., are 90,002 in number; and those
whose rental is below 30/. are as many as
163,880 ; the average rental for all London, 40/.
Now, adopting the estimate before given as to the
proportionate yield of soot from each of these
three classes of houses, we have the following
items : —

Bukhels
of Soot i>cr
Annum.
53,540 houses at a yearly rental
above 60/., producing 0 bushels of
soot each per aimum . . . 323,040

90,002 houses at a yearly rental
above 30/. and below 607., producing
6 bushels of soot eiich per annum 460,010

163,880 houses at a yearly rental
below 30/., producing 2 bushels of
soot each per annum . , . 327,760

Total number of bushels of soot an-
nimlly produced throughcut London . 1,100,810

This calculation will be found to be nearly cor-
rect if tried by another mode. The quantity of soot
depends greatly upon the amount of volatile or
bituminous matter in the coals used. By a table
given at p. 109 of the second volume of this work
it will be seen that the proportion of volatile
matter contained in the several kinds of coal are
as follows : —

Cannel or gas coals contain 40 to ^0 per cent,
of volatile matter.

No. XLVI.

344

LONDOX LABOUR AND TUE LOXDON POOR.

TABLE SHOWING THB NUMBER OF HOUSES, AT DIFFERENT AVERAGE
RENTALS, THROUGHOUT THE METROPOLIS.

Number of Houses whose

Number of Houses whose

Number of Houses whoki

AVKHAOB RkSTAL 18 ABOVE

Average Rental is above

Average Rental is below

£50. .

£30 AUD below £50.

£30.

ii

u

h

Li

U

£

hi

<cs

A X

£

Z, X

Z =

£

'

Hanover - square,

Poplar ....

44

6,882

Cbelsca . . .

29

7,629

May Fair

• 150

8,7D5

Pancras . . .

41 :i8,731

Wandsworth . .

29

8,290,

St. Jaroes'f . .

128

3,4flU

Hampstead . .

40 ! 1,719

St. Luke's . .

28

6,421

St. Martin's . .

lis

2,323

Kensington' . .

40 17,292

Lambeth . . .

28

20,520

London City . .

117

7,329

Clerkenwell . .

38 . 7,259

Lewisham . . .

27

5,986

Marylebone . .

71

15,955

East London . .

38 4,785

Whitechapel . .

26

8.832

Strand. . . .

06

3,&3S

St. Saviour's . .

36 4,613

Hackney . . .

25

9,861

West London .

e&

2,745

Westminster . .

36 ! 6,647

Camberwell . .

25

9,417

St. Giles's . . .

60

4,778

St. Olave's . .

35 ; 2,365

Rotherhithe . .

23

2,834

Holborn . . .

52

4,517

Islington . . .

35 13,658

StGeoige's,South-

St George's - in -'
the-East . .

1

1 wark

22

7 005

53>&40 1

32

6,151

Newington . . .

22

10,468

2*^

14,428
15,438

1

90,002

Shoreditch . . .

20

Stepney . . .

20

16,846

1

Bermondsey . .

18

7,095

Bethnal Green . .

9 18,370

168,880

Newcastle or " house " coals, about 37 per cent

Lancashire and Yorkshire coals, 35 to 40 per
cent.

South Welsh or "steam" coals, 11 to 15 per
cent.

Anthracite or "stone" coals, none.

The house coals are those chiefly used through-
out London, so that every ton of such coals contains
about 800 lbs. of volatile matter, a. considerable
proportion of which appears in the form of smoke :
but what proportion and what is the weight of
the carbonaceous particles or soot evolved in a
given quantity of smoke, I know of no means of
judging. I am informed, however, by those prac-
tically acquainted with the subject, that a ton
of ordinary house coals will produce between a
fourth and a half of a bushel of soot*. Now
there are, say, 3,500,000 tons of coal consumed
annually in London; but a large proportion of
this quantity is used for the purposes of gas.
for factories, breweries, chemical works, and
steam-boiits. The consumption of coal for the !
making of Ras in London, in 1849, was 380,000
tons ; so that, including the quantity used in
factories, breweries, &c., we may, perhaps,
estimate the domestic consumption of the me-

■* The quantity of soot <U-]Kisite(l dejiends pjrcatly on
the length, drauyht, and irrc(»uljir surface of the chim-
ney. The kitchen lluo yicldn hy far the most soot for
an coual nunnlity of coals burnt, because it is of j,'rcater
lenfjth. The quantity aho\e cited 15 the average yield
fr«)m the several chimneys of a house. It will be seen
hereafter that the quantity collectetl i* only lHX).()fM»
bushels : a ^rcat proportion of the chimneys of the poor <
being bcldom swept, and some cleanacd by themselve*. I

I tropolis at 2,500,000 tons yearly, which, for

i 300,000 houses, would give eight tons per house.

I And when we remember the amount used in

large houses and in hotels, as well as by the

I smaller houses, where each room often contains a

I different family, this does not appear to be too

I high an average. Mr. M'Culloch estimates the

I domestic consumption at one ton per head, men.

women, and children ; and since the number of

persons t(» each house in London is 7*5, this would

give nearly the same result. Estimating the yield

of soot to be three-eighths of a bushel per ton,

we have, in round numbers, 1,000,000 bushels

of soot as the gross quantity deposited in the

metropolitan chimneys every year.

Or, to check the estimate another way, there
are 3r>U master sweepers throughout London.
A master sweeper in a " large way of business"
collects, I am informed, one day with another,
from 30 to 40 bushels of soot; on the other hand,
small master, or "single-handed*' chimney-sweeper
is able to gather only about 5 bushels, and scarcely
that. One master sweeper said that about 10
bushels a day would, he thought, be a fair average
quantity for all the masters, reckoning one day
Avith another ; so that at this rate we should have
1,0[»5,50U bushels for the gross quantity of pool
annually collected throughout the metropolis.

We may therefore assume the ajfgregate yield

of soot throughout London to be 1 .000,000 bushels

per annum. Now what is done with this immense

mass of refuse matter ? Of what use is it ?

T/ie soot if ^>«jrAtt*i'(^ jr^m the r,ia!tt<r9, \rkofC

LONDOir LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

345

perquUite it is, by (he farmers and dealers. It is
used by them principally for meadow land, and
frequently for land where wheat is grown ; not so
much, I understand, as a manure, as for some
quality in it which destroys slugs and other insects
injurious to the crops*. Lincolnshire is one of
the great marts for the London soot, whither it
is transported by railway. In Hertfordshire,
Cambridge, Norfolk, Suffolk, Bssez, and Kent,
however, and many other parts, London soot is
used in large quantities; there are persons who
have large stores for its reception, who purchase it
from the master sweepers, and afterwards sell it to
the formers and send it as per order, to its desti-
nation. These are generally the manure-merchants,
of whom the Post-Office Directory gives 26 names,
eight being marked as dealers in guano. I was
told by a sweeper in a large way of business that
he thought these men bought from a half to three-
quarters of the soot ; the remainder being bought
by the land-cultivators in the neighbourhood of
London. Soot is often used by gardeners to keep
down the insects which infest their gardens.

The value of the Soot collected throughout
London is the next subject to engage our atten-
tion. Many sweepers have represented it as a very
curious fact, and one for which they could advance
no sufficient reason, that the price of a bushel of
soot was regulated by the price of the quartern
loaf, so that you had only to know that the
quartern loaf was 5d. to know that such was the
price of a bushel of soot. This, however, is hardly
the case at present; the price of the qiuirtem loaf
(not regarding the " seconds," or inferior bread),
is now, at the end of December, 1851, 5d. to 6d.
according to quality. The price of soot per bushel
is but M., and sometimes but 4^(2., but 5d. may
be taken as an average.

Now 1,000,000 bushels of soot, at 5d., will be
found to yield 20,833/. Gs. Sd. per annum. But
the whole of this quantity is not collected by the
chimney-sweepers, for many of the poorer persons
seldom Have their chimneys swept ; and by the
table given in another place, it will be seen that
not more than 800,000 bushels are obtained in
the course of the year by the London " sweeps."
Hence we may say, that there are 800,000
bushels of soot annually collected from the London
chimneys, and that this is worth not less than
16,500/. per annum.

l%e next question is, Jiow many people are em-
ployed in collecting this quantity of r^use matter,
and how do they collect it, and what do they get,
individually and collectively, for so doing]
' To begin with the number of master and
journeymen sweepers employed in removing these
800,000 bushels of soot from our chimneys:
according to the Census returns, the number of
"sweeps" in the metropolis in the years 1841
and 1831 were as follows :—

• Soot of coal b laid, by Dr. Ure, In his admirable
Dictionary of Arts and Manufactures, to contain *' lul-
pbate and carbonate of ammonia along with bituminous
matter.**

Increase
in ten
Chimney-sweepers, 1841. 1831. years.
Males, 20 years and upwards 619 421 198

„ under 20 years 370 no returns.

Females, 20 years & upwards 44 „

1033

But these returns, such as they are, include
both employers and employed, in one confused
mass. To disentangle the economical knot, we must
endeavour to separate the number of master
sweepers from the journeymen. According to the
Post-Office Directory the master sweepers amount
to no more than 32, and thus there would be one
more than 1 000 for the number of the metropoli-
tan journeymen sweepers ; these statements, how-
ever, appear to be very wide of the truth.

In 1816 it was represented to the House of
Conmions, that there were within the bills of
mortality, 200 masters, all — except the "great
gentlemen," as one witness described them, who
were about 20 in number — themselves working at
the business, and that they had 150 journeymen
and upwards of 500 apprentices, so that there
must then have been 850 working sweepers alto-
gether, young and old.

These numbers, it must be borne in mind, were
comprised in the limits of the bills of mortality
34 years ago. The parishes in the old bills of
mortality were 148 ; there are now in the me-
tropolis proper 1 76, and, as a whole, the area is
much more densely covered with dwelling-houses.
Taking but the last ten years, 1841 to 1851, the
inhabited houses have increased from 262,737 to
307,722, or, in round numbers, 45,000.

Now in 1811 the number of inhabited houses
in the metropolis was 146,019, and in 1821 it
was 164,948; hence in 1816 we may assume
the inhabited houses to have been about 1 55,000 ;
and since this number required 850 working
sweepers to cleanse the London chimneys, it is
but a rule of three sum to find how many would
have been required for the same purpose in 1841,
when the inhabited houses had increased to
262,737; this, according to Cocker, is about
1400; so that we must come to the conclusion
either that the number of working sweepers had
not kept pace with the increase of houses, or
tliat the returns of the census were as defective '
in this respect as we have found them to be con-
cerning the street-sellers, dustmen, and scavagers.
Were we to pursue the some mode of calculation,
we should find that if 850 sweepers were required
to cleanse the chimneys of 155,000 houses, there
should be 1687 such hibourers in London now
that the houses are 307,722 in number.

But it will be seen that in 1816 more than one-
half (or 500 out of 850) of the working chimney-
sweepers were apprentices, and in 1841 the
chinmey-sweepers under 20 years of age, if we
are to believe the census, constituted more than
one-third of the whole body (or 370 out of 1033).
Now as the use of climbing boys was prohibited
in 1842, of course this large proportion of the

V

o\0

Loyijoy LAiiovn axi» the loxdox pooh

tnide Ins \wvn r«'iuiiTC«l ii*f!«\*s: so th:it. i-#.tin)at- An rcffinli the first introJnctioii of Kii^li-h

ina ihi- master aiitl j )iinn'yim.-;i swivprr.-? a: "J.Vi in children intn chimneys — tho cstnbli-ihment of t;w

1.^10, ii wou d nppt'tir th:il ahmil .'i'mj wtuilil ho use of ciimhiii>j h »_vs— nothing appears, accordiiiif

rci]ui:i'd lo sw'f««p the chimneys of tlif nn*irt»p.»iis to tho ri;ir»»M;n".ali«n.8 iiiadi' to rarliainent on

at |>rfM'iiL To the*.', of conri-e, iniist I e addf.l s»»*vcmi ocea^iiMi):. to h- known ; mid liitk* altel^
the I'Xiia munhi-r of juiirin'yni n iii'C"-«ary f'»r
nianaL'iii;; tlie machiii-s. Ai.d c-'Hsidrrijig thi'
jtinnu'vmcu t'» hav«' incr-.-a^fd liiri-rinhl aim" ti:i'
abolitiuii of ihf ciinru.nj buys, wv mii«»t add IJ'xi

lo till" a'love nuuihor. wliich will makf thi' sum to h.ivi* h'*<»n thi- first i»-.'n*on who rfiriilarly u^A

total of tho inili\idn.:i< niiployed in tliia tiade to an umhri-lln in ihf »lr«H't!« of London, cilie.l j»i:h".ir

am<>n!it to vitv ni«ar:y >'f'.i. atttMili.m to the matti-r. In 17S8 Mr. irmuay

iJy inquiiies thruuiih-oit the several district!* of and olhers hroujiht a bill into rarlianu-nt f'»r t'le

the metmp'dis, 1 t.n-l iba: thiTean* allo^^etln'r iir^" lietler pro'.ivtion iif the flinibinu' boys, requTinsj,

nm<t«'r ^weep.•ra at pn-hent in hoi.dui ; 1>»»> of anion*; other pi ovi*>i<ins, all master t-weemT* t" ho
thc'e jiro hiriie mast(T>. wlio sel.iosn j.'«» out on a ' li^-ensed, and tlie iiHme.^ and a^e* of all t!i<-:r

tion 8ee,u« ti» have Wn paid to the cm-liiion nf
tlMff«' infant.-*- Mime were but little Wtter — «:;lil
abi»nt 17'*0. whin the ben»'\o!i'nt Jona» Ilar.-
way. who i< said, but not nncuntiadiotedy.

r«»tmd, but work to (»rder, havinir a r»-:;n'.ar cus-toni
amoni; the more wealthy rla."»8e> ; \\ hih- th«' otiHT
•-!4 I cooMNi «d' '.'*_* small masters ;in i l.'rj ** i^injle-
hnnded" m.iJ»t«TS, whti travel cm \a:ion.«- rounds,
both in Londiin an 1 the Mibnrb$i, ^el•king eustftm.
Vi the whole nueb.T, 1I» residi' within the I'ity
t»nuiidarie^ : from !*0 to H"' 11 vi* (Millie Siuny
side, and H'Ai* on the Mi«ldle»!'*v »:de of the
Thame:! (without the City boundaries). A laij^e
master employs from *J to !(• men. aod 'J b'>y«:
and a sniili one only "J. men or i»nnietinM-« 1 lu.m
and a boy, while a hiimlo handrd m.isti-r eni'>l:iys
no men nor b'>v.i at all, but does ail ib- work him-
helf.

The li'S masters em]«'«)y aniojn; them 1*2 f'^re-
men, :»'.''.» j>>urncynieii, and &1 boys, or \7'*t
hands, aini a'sdnii; lo th-m tiie siiL'le liant'ii-d
nuKler-nien wlin work at tin- bu^ine.-s tiienis«-l\e>,
we have >!'■) woikiii-.; nuMi iti all; <■> that, on tin*
wb«li', ilnTe are n"l b'-^"* f au li-tv.i-n >"" anl

;iill) piT>M:.N ilM|>|iye'l in <1. a!..«illj! the L'«l,iii:||

cliiniii- ys o! thi-ir 'i-'t.

Tin* iM'\t p.-iiit that !ire..«'nt«i \:*o]\ in tuw I'ld-r
to th" niiti'l i-. as t'« ill.' ,...,'■ ..; . .;■' ,- ■<......■;/

f/.. ./,,,.>.,. I ...r.. ,- ,> ; that i.- t'» sa\, ii".v are ti..-
b'lO.iHiO bii«flr-l.>.-l ^...lt^■.|.i•l■l••d ll'.i'o ili.- :;i'.... -no

lii»ii*«- by th'.-*.' sj'i wiMki:ii: swi"j.-M> ' J>iit li.i"
in\»>l.e.- a ^h"rl fn-torv id th:* ir.ule.

<U- WW. Swi:::i'i:i

'»K <M.i,, AM» Tin: ('l.lM.i.i.N,;
Jl-.VS.

appri-utite.^ n'tfi-trred. The llou*e of LkhIj,
i,n\vi'\er, rejffieil this bill, and the liSth yrt^-n^
III., e. JS, was passed in prei'i-renee. The ci:ii.-f
alti'tati'ins sou^dit to be otTecfed l»y the new Act
WIT*, that no swt-ener i>)h>uld have nmre than ^ix
appri'iilici**, and that no hoy should be appren-
tiie.l at a tend«'r»'r aiie than eijht year*. Pre-
vii'usly there were no reg[ricli'>n6 in eilhi-r ef
tliov» respi'Cls.

Th»'*e i»rnvi."»ion^ wen-, however, very peneinlly
vitdat"d. \\y one of thn.^e *• tl.iw»" or oj.nwions
ho very common .anil so little rreditalde to our
legislation, it was bmnd thai there wa* no prohi-
bit.mi i«»a «wei ]hm\ en»p'«»yinjf hi-, own ehildre.sat
what aji" l.e ple.i.«ed : niol **^onl•^" nr •'sfVi-ral/'
for 1 find b»th words um-i". em;'h«y«d tl.* ir *««n«,
ami ^HTa^innally their danj:bter*. in ciiimney
iliUibin^ at tiic aji'^s of six. Jive, and <'\en betw»i»n
jM-.ir and Jive yi'ai"s! Tl'e rhildn n of nth-r-, too,
\v«Ti- (.iMiliiiii.i"y l.;'':ii;;apprentiei'«i ;it I1]il'-i1 wz-.
l.»r n-' i:u|'i-.ry v.a-« in..d»' into the lad'^ ;».:•• I--*;, id
tl:i« S'.;itci!i'lil «'l" hi* pi'.reiits. nr. in t;;..* r.>' if
p;i'i>!i a; •pii-i.tii"'.*.'-. bf\i«iid tin* lin tbo^t- fi.iyii s i-:
Ui'-ve n':>t\v«>iti»y wtod «>f tfie i»\erMM-r".. Ti:.«
b ys lit" SIX wi-ri' api»rfi!lin-d — lor ;«p:ircii!':i"f iia
wa> a'i:.'i-t i!ni\.-r.-al a> b-ys of eijibt. by !;'i:r
. paM'ht'i; while piri"':! hII-'iTn and ii;a..!>'.rar.-r
iiin^i»iii'l ih'j workliiMise »T|'lin!s. a< ;i tIil-l "t
eon!'«f. t'l t'se staivati'ii a;-'. iManiiy wi;i/i'. i'-.i-r
iMU't lia\e kn- u !» wen' \ ■ ry i.!'ii-ii in -i'»re lor
ll.iMn wh"ii :.'i: r-nt'- ed i'» -wi-rp.Ms.

'1 be l':'"V iuj r'vi('!»-i'(i- w:'* aiidiued b-f. re I'.ir-

Ffii.Ml-'.M.V th* chim!'.«y> I■^••d I ■ b- r''i';iii:
the ln'u^e >.M\ants, fir .i |.im'-'Mi e- ii.il v;\>\\\
vTvcX \u til- hni:c ul.l l'a-i!i-<iit«l r.n.^'ni t "i
thrii'! up a br.ioni as fir ::^ !iis strinutis
pi-nuit. S'lMi-'iinie.t. b"\vr\er. >!iav/ \^a< 1.
at the ni!'Ut:i of th«' eliifnin-v. ;i;:«l in tl'.a
th

d

:il:i

an.l

wUld

■ii!.-d
w ay
t was ii»n<nm. fl or iM-iu'ht down to th.»
ground by lh«' articii i-f ihe fin*. IWil l!:.it tio'i.'
wi-rr ai-ro n'uuhir rl-ininey-HV. ««'j..'rs in the latt.-r
part of the ^ixt^•el!th rei.tury i> ii:ii|Ui»tioi:abli' :
I'lr in the days of ihi* I'ir'-i .lames and ('har!i"i'.
poor rii'dni int.^e, and iiii.n- e>pi'iia!ly >avi.yariis.
resorted lo Mncland lor tlu* expirs* puipotj*.
How lung ihi'y labtiund in this vocation i" un-
known. The SaM»yards., iiuict-d. w<n- then ti.f
ireneral showmen and hweips of Kar-pe. and

iMUi'-nt I
trad.. :

31 r. .1
<:veat W
w ho ]ier;
b.Snre it

•II ll'e mbji-ci ot iijtajit labour in ti-.i

'hn Co.-i:, a n'a.-t-r ffWet-juT. I'i-n •.■:'
:idnni! .-tn-et and K»-i.tish tow n. tii" : r^-l
i-\erid in tlu' um- of the niacbin*' yrar*
. u^e wa-» compulsory . ttated that it wa<
cominon bir trir'':ii> in the bujilnesi to en'p-oy
tli-ir own clnllren. unib-r the ajje <.♦' p<»vi-n. ii'
cliinbMi;: : and tiiat as far es he knew, he hiaiM-!:'
wah only bntwei'ii six and Kexeii when be "cam';
til it:" a: d that almost a'l m xaWv swe^p.-r.'. bad •.• ■:
it in tiieir bili* that thi-y k-pt "small b :y« f^r
ri-::is!i'r ht-ivr-i, aiid Mich Iih«" as th.-it.*'

.Mr. T. AlI'Mi. anoiinr master nwet-per. was h-.-
i l\v«- n f'U: aii<l t'.\r when articb-d to an uncle.
Mr. 1*. M. F(ir.<.ter. a private gentl man. a mer-

they are still in some of the cities of Italy and ber of the " Committee to promote the Suprrwdirj
France. | of Climbinj: Boys," .s;iid, '• Sonic are put to the

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR,

847

emjiloyment very young ; one instance of which

occurre-.I to a child in the neighbourhood of Shore>

I ditch, who was put to the trade nt four and n

qtiarter rears, or thereabouts. The father of a

child in Whitechapel tnld me last week, that his

I son b'^giin climbing when he was four years and

I eigiit months old. I have beard of some still

; younger, but only from vague report."

This suflicieiuly proves at what infantine years
children were exposed to toils of exceeding pain-
! fulness. The smaller and the more slenderly
j formed the child, the more valuable was he for
I the sweeping of flues, the interior of some of
I them, to be ascended and swept, being but seven

inclies square.
I I have mentioned the employment of female

cliildren in the very unsuiuible labour of climb-
ing ciiinmeys. The following is ull the informa-
tion «,Mven on the subject.

Mr. Tooke was asked, " Hare you ever heard
of female children being so employed ]" and
replied, *• I have heard of caiies at Hadley, Bar-
net, Windsor, and Uxbridge; and I know a case
at Witham, near Colchester, of that sort."

Mr. B. M. Foster said, " Another circumstance,
which has not been mentioned to the Conmiittee,
is, that there are several little girls employed ;
there are two of the name of Morgan at Windsor,
daughters of the chimney-sweeper ir/io t> em-
2>loi/€d to swop thi rhiwm't/s of tfit Cuittle ; ano-
ther instmce afUxbridge, and at Brighton, and
at Whitechapel (which was some years ago), and
at Headley near l^aruct, and Witham in Essex,
and elsewhere.*' He then stated, on being asked, i
*• Do you not think that girls were employed
from their physical form l)eing smaller and
thinner than boys, and therefore could get up ;
naiTOwer flues'?*' ''The reason that I have undfr- j
stood was, because their parents liad nnt a sufli- ;
cient number of boys to bring up to the business/' j
Ur. Foster did not know the ages of these girls. I
The inquiry by a Ganmittee ol the House of |
Commons, which led m »re than any other to the \
prohibition of this infant and y t paii.ful labour '
in chinini-y-swi-eping, was lulJ in 1>17, and they
recommended the •* preventing th- further use of I
climbing boys in sweeping of chimneys;" a re- i
couimendatii n not carried into eifi-ct until 1832. I
The matter was during the interval frequently !
agitated in Parliament, but there were no later
invcitigations by Committees. j

I will adduce, specifically, the grievances, ac-
cording to the Report of 1817, of the climbing
boys; but will first pre.^nt the following extract
from the evidence of Mr. W, Tooke, a gentleman
who, in accordance with the Kon. Henry Grey
Bennet, M.F., and others, exerted himself on the
behoof of the climbing boys. When he gave his
evidence, ilr. Tuoke was the secretary to a society
whose obj.-ct was to supersede the necessity of
employing climbing boys. He said : —

*• In the year 1 SOO, the Society for Bettering
the Condition of the Poor took up the subject, but
little or nothing appears to have been done upon
that occasion, except that the most respectable
matter chimney-sweepers entered into an aBSOcia-

tion and subscription for promoting the cleanliness
and health of the boys in their respective service*.
The Institution of which I am treasurer, and
which is now existing, was formed in February,
1803. In consequence of an anonymous .idver-
tisement, a large meetins was held at the London
Coflee House, and the society was established ;
immediate steps were then taken to ascertain the
state of the trade; inspectors were ap|)ointed
to give an account of all the master chimney*
sweepers within the bills of mortality, their
general character, their conduct towards their
appreniices, and tlie number of thuse apprentices.
It was ascertained, that the total number of
maittor chimney-sweepers, within the bills of
mortality, might be estimated at 200, who had
among them 500 apprentices ; that not above 20
of those masters were reputable tralesnien in easy
circumstances, who appeared generally to conform
to the provisions of the Act ; and which 20 had,
upon an nvera;.'e, from four to five apprentices
each. We found about 90 of an inferior class of
umster chimney-sweepers who averaged three
apprentices each, and who were extremely negli-
gent both of the health, morals, and education of
ttiose apprentices ; and about 90, the remainder
of the 200 masters, were a class of chimney-
sweepers recently journeymen, who took up the
trade because they had no other resource ; they
picked up boys as they could, who lodged with
themselves in huts, sheJs, and cellars, in the out-
skirts of the town, occasionally wandering into
the vilbigos round, where they slept on soot-bags,
and lived in the grossest filth."

The grievances I have spoken of were thus
sunmied up by the Parliamentary Committee.
After referring to the ill-usage and hardships sus-
t^iined by the climbing boys (the figures being
now introduced for the sake of distinctness) it is
stated : —

"It is in evidence that (1) they are stolen
from" [and sold by] "their parents, and in- i
veigbfd out of workhouses ; (2) that in order to j
conquer the natural repugnance of the infants to j
ascend the narrow and dangerous chimneys to I
clean which their la!;<iur is required, blows are
used ; that pins are forced into their feet by the
boy that follows tlicm up the chin»ney, in order
to compol them to ascend it, and that lighted
straw has been applied for that purpose ; (3) that
the children arc suljfect to sores and bruiises, and
wounds and bums rn ^heir thighs, knees, and
elbows; and that it will require many months
before the extr^-mities of the elbows and knees
become sufliciently hard to resist the excoriations
to which they are at first subject."

1. With regard to the tfeiUinff or kidnapping
of children — for there was (»ften a difficulty
in procuring climbing boys — I find mention in
the evidence, as of a matter, but not a very
frequent matter, of notoriety. One stolen child
was sold to a master sweeper for 8/. S«. Mr. Qc.
Revely said : —

" I wish to state to the Committee that case in
particular, because it comes home to the better
sort of persons in higher life. It seems that the

X

348

LONDOX LABOUR AXD THE LOSDOX POOR,

child, upon beinf^ asked Tarioof queitions, had been |
taken away : the child wai questiuned how he |
came into that situation ; he said tCA that he could :
recolh^t was (as I hi-ard it told at that time) that
he and his sister, with another brother, were toge- i
ther somewhere, but he could not tell where ; but
not being able to run so well as the other two, j
he was caught by a woman and carried away
and was s'jid, and came afU'rwards into the hands
of a chimnrfv-sweepcr. He was not afterwards
restored to his family, and the mystery was never
unravelled ; but he was advertised, and a lady
took cluu-gu of him.

" ThiH child, in 1804, was forced up a chimney
at Bridlington in Yorkshire, by a big boy, the
younger buy being apparently but four years old.
He fell and bruised his legs terribly against the
grate. The Misses Auckland of Boynton, who had
heard of the child, and went to sec him, beoime
interested by his nuinners, and they took him home
with them ; tlie chimney-sweeper, who perhaps got
alanned, being glad to [art witli him. " Soon after
he got to Boyntou, the seat of Sir George Strickhind,
a plate with something to eat was brought him ; on
seeing a silvt>r fork he was quite delighted, and
said, * Papa had such forks as those.' He also
said the carpet in the drawing-room wiis like
papa's ; the housekeeper showed him a silver
watch, he ai^ked what sort it was- ' Papa's was a
gold watch ;' he then pressed the handle and said,
' I'apa's watch rings, why dues not yours T Sir
(icorgo Strickland, on being told this circum-
stance, showed him a gold repeater, the little boy
pressed the spring, and when it struck, ho jumped
nbout the room, saying, ' Papa's watch rings so.'
At uiglit, when In; was going to bed, he fuiid he
cuiilil nut go Xii bed until he had Fiiid his prayers;
he then repeated the Lord's Prnyor, almost per-
fectly. The account he gave of hiiust-lf was tliat
he was giithering tlowers in his mamma's garden,
and that the woman who sold him t(i the sweeper,
came in and asked him if he liked riding f lie
said, ' Yes,' and she told him he should ride with
her. She put him on a horse, after which they got
into a ve.HM'l, and the Sttils were put up, * and away
we went.' He had no recollection of his name, or
where he lived, and was too young to think his
father could have any other name than that of
{Kip. He stjirted whenever he heard a servant
in the family at Boynton called George, and
looki-d n.H if he expected \% sec somebody he
knew ; on inquiry, he said he had an uncle
(Jeorge, wlioni he loved dearly. He says his
mamma is dead, and it is tlmught his father may
be abroad. From many tilings he says, he seems
to have lived chielly with an uncle and aunt,
j whom he invariably says were called Mr. and
I Mrs. Flembrough. From various circumstances,
! it is th'itight impossible he should be the child of
the woman who sold him, his manners being * very
j civiiixed," quite those of a child well educated';
I his dialect is good, and that of the south of Eng-
I land. This little bt»y, when first discovered, was
I conjectured to be about four years old, and is
j described as having beautiful black eyes and cye-
' lashes, a high nose, and a delicate soft skin."

' Mr. J. Harding, a master iweeper, had a fellow
apprentice who had been enticed away from his
parents. " It is a case of common occurrence," he
faid, " for children stolen, to be employed in this
way. Yes, and children in particular are enticed
out of workhouses : there ore a great many who
come out of workhouses."

The following cases were also submitted to the
Committee : —

** A poor woman had been obliged by sickness
to go into an hospital, and while she was there her
child was stolen from her house, taken into Staf>
fordshire, and there apprenticed to a chimney-
sweeper. By some happy circumstance she learned
his fate; she followed him, and succeeded in
rescuing him from his forlorn situation. Another
child, who was an orphan, was tricked into follow-
ing the same wretched employment by a chimney-
sweeper, who gave him a shilling, and made him
believe that by receiving it he became his appren-
tice ; the poor boy, either discovering or Buspectin|r
that he had been deceived, anxiously endeavoured
to speak to a magistrate who happened to come to
the house in which he was sweeping chimneys,
but his mastf'r waurhed him so closely that be
could not succeed. He at last contrived to tell his
story tfj a blind soldier, who determined to right
the poor boy, and by grettt I'^xriivM succeeded in
procuring him his liberty."

It was in country places, however, that the
stealing and kidnapping of children was the most
frequent, and the threat of " the sweeps will get
you" was often held out, to deter children fi^m
wandering. These stolen infants, it is stated,
were usually conveyed to some distance by the
vagrants who had seciured them, and sold to some
master sweeper, being apprenticed as the child of
the vendors, for it was diflicuh fur sw^eepcrs in thinly-
peopled places to get a supply of climbing lK»ys.
It wa't shown about the time of the Parliamentary
inquif}', in the course (»f a trial at tiic Lancaster
assi/es, that a boy had been apprenticed to a
sweejwr by two travelling tinkers, mnn and
woman, who informed him that the child was
stolen from another *' traveller," SO miles away,
who was " too fond of it to make it a sweep.'
Tlje j>ricj. of the child was not mentioned.

lle«pecting the s;»le of children to be appren-
tices to sweeper.^, Mr. To(»ke waii able to state that,
although in 1810, the practice had very much
diminished of late, parents in many instances still
^of'l their chiUh'cn for tlint.fou)', or^fii't: puxi-xof.
This sum was geneniUy paid under the guise of
an apprentice fee, but it was known to be and
was ciUed a " Kile;' for the parents, real or
nominal, never interfered with the master subie-
quently, but left the infant to its fate.

2. I find the following account of the M€aRS
vtSorUd to, n'/t ord'.r to i«c/f'«v, or more fnqucAil^
com /til, tfusc inttt:/>id irijuhis iu i^orl:

The bny in the first instance went for a month,
or any term agreed upon, " on trial," or " to see
how he would suit lor the bu^iiness." During
this period of probation he was usually well
treated and well fed (whatever the character of
the master), with little to do beyond running

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

349

errands, and obserying the mode of work of the
experienced climbers. "When, however, he was
" bound " as an apprentice, he was put with another
kd who had been for some time at the business.
The new bov was sent first up the chimney, and
immediately followed by the otner, who instructed
him how to ascend. This was accomplished by
the pressure of the knees and the elbows against
the sides of the flue. By pressing the knees
tightly the child managed to raise his arms some-
what higher, and then by pressing his elbows in
like manner he contrived to draw up his legs,
and so on. The inside of the flue presented a
smooth surface, and there were no inequalities
where the Angers or toes could be inserted.
Should the young beginner fall, he was sure to light
on the shoulders of the boy beneath him, who always
kept himself lirmly flxed in expectation of such a
mishap, and then the novice had to commence
aiiew ; in this manner the twain reached the
top by degrees, sweeping down the soot, and
descended by the same method. This practice
was very severe, especially on new boys, whose
knees and elbows were torn by the pressure and
the slipping down continually — the skin being
stripped off, and frequently breaking out in fright-
ful sores, from the constant abrasions, and from
the soot and dirt getting into them.

In his evidence before Parliament in 1817 (for
there had been previous inquiries), Mr. Cook
gave an account of the training of these boys, and
on being asked : — " Do the elbows and knees of
the boys, when they first begin the business,
become very sore, and afterwards get callous, and
are those boys employed in sweeping chimneys
during the soreness of those parts'?" answered,
"It depends upon the sort of master they have
got; 'some are obliged to put them to work sooner
than others ; you must keep them a little at it, or
they will never learn their business, even during
the sores." He stated further^ that the skin
broke generally, and that the boys could not
ascend chimneys during the sores without wry
great pain. The way that I learn boys is/' he
continued, " to put some cloths over their elbows
and over their knees till they get the nature of
the chimney — till they get a little used to it : we
call it padding them, and then we take them off,
and they get very little grazed indeed after they
have got the art; but very few will take that
trouble. Some boys' flesh is far worse than others,
and it takes more time to harden them." He was
then asked : — '* Do those persons still continue to
employ them to climb chimneys 1" and the
answer was: "Some do; it depends upon the
character of the master. None of them of that
claas keep them till they get well ; none. They
are obliged to climb with those sores npon them.
I never bad one of my own apprentices do that."
This system of padding, however, was but little
practised ; but in what proportion it teas prac-
tised, unless by the respectable masters, who were
then but few in number, the Parliamentar}' papers,
the only information on the subject now attain-
able, do[ not state. The inference is, that the
majority, out of but 20 of these masters, with

some 80 or 100 apprentices, did treat them well,
and what was so accounted. The customary way
of training these boys, then, was such as I have
described ; some even of the better masters, whose
boys were in the comparison well lodged and fed,
and "sent to the Sunday school" (which seems
to have comprised all needful education), con-
sidered "padding and such like" to be "new-
fangled nonsense."

I may add also, that although the boy carried
up a brush with him, it was used but occasionally,
only when there were " turns" or defects in the
chimney, the soot being brought down by the ac-
tion of the shoulders and limbs. The climber
wore a cap to protect his eyes and mouth from
the soot, and a sort of flannel tunic, his feet, legs,
and arms being bare. Some of these lads were
surprisingly quick. One man told me that, when
in his prime as a climbing boy, he could reach the
top of a chimney about as quickly as a person
could go up stairs to the attics.

The following is from the evidence of Mr.
Cook, frequently cited as an excellent master : —

" What mode do you adopt to get the boy to go
up the chimney in the flrst instance ? — We per-
suade him as well as we can; we generally
practise him in one of our own chimneys flrst ;
one of the boys who knows the trade goes up
behind him, and when he has practised it perhaps
ten times, though some will require twenty times,
they generally can manage it. The boy goes up
with him to keep him from falling; after that, the
boy will manage to go up with himself, after going
up and down several times with one under him :
we do this, because if he happens to make a slip
he will be caught by the other.

" Do you find many boys show repugnance to
go up at first? — Yes, most of them.

" And if they resist and reject, in what way do
you force them up] — By telling them we must
take them back again to their father and mother,
and give them up again ; and their parents are
generally people who cannot maintain them.

" So that they are afraid of going back to their
parents for fear of being starved 1 — Yes ; they go
through a deal of hardship before they come to
our trade.'

" Did you use any more violent means 1 — Some-
times a rod.

" Did you ever hear of straw being lighted
under them ? — Never.

" You never heard of any means being made use
of, except being beat and being sent homel — No;
no other.

" You are aware, of course, that those means
being gentle or harsh must depend very much upon
the character of the individual master ? — It does.

" Of course you must know that there are per-
sons of harsh and cruel disposition ; have you not
often heard of masters treating their apprentices
with great cruelty, particularly the little boys, in
forcing them to go up those small flues, which the
boys were unwilling to ascend] — Yet; I have
forced up many a one myself ^

" By what means 1—B^ lbx«B^Kli\sc^, '«bX^\s^
glVing \\iem sl^liOl Qt ^ i^^^r

350

LOXDOX LAnoVR ASD THE lOXDOX POOR.

It wm aUo fitatrd that tlir joiiniovincn Uiod ,
the b"y« wiih ffn-aiiT cnii-lty th.'in AA thi* iiia»i.TjJ
- iiidrt'tl n Ufli'valfl tynmny \< > f:iMi llie W'»r:?t
that f'lr vtry iiltio t'auits thry kicked and >la|ip(>ii .
the childrni, and sriiiictiiiifs tii>i.'u*-d t!:(iii witti a
cat, " III id(> of rn))o, hard at each end, A!id a.i
thick 34 ynur thiiinli."

.Mr. .Itihii l-'ihhiT, a nia-trr chiiriiii'y-N\viT|'<r,
sai'l :-•-" M.i.'iy ni Hti-r*, ::i«' Ni-ry nrve n- with ihrir
chiidrt'!!. !'■> inak*' iv.-iii t" u;i lli • <!:ii.n«y^ I
ha\«» !« ■••ji i!i-<ii II, .ik'* th.-m '•irp th«'invivi's
iiahi!; I h.iv- li-i-ii nh.i.ifd p.yV.t" l- »•«» up a
chimin y iiakid."

Ah i-«i«rr:<» th** cnio'iti-s of drivi; „' h. y; up
chimii»'y.< hy kindlinu' >traw hi'iicath ih ir fi-'-r, or
ihriMtinu |MiH iiitii ih'* ii«»!«'s td' th- ir iVi't, I find
th" fulid-.iinir ^tatcnuMit.H !•i^••^ on the nithority of
K. M. KomtiT, K«*q., .1 pnv.iti' uciith-iimu r«*iidiiisr
in W.ilihaiiiMtow :- -

*• A hid \v;i.H ord'-D'd to swfcji a tisinincy at
Wjiiid."%-.vorlh : \u' CHI'" d-iwn aftiT rndi-aviuiriiiii
to aM-fiid. and tiiin o.-ciiinMl wvit.iI tiini-« hc'tVi\«
hr j;avi« lip tho p«iini; at hit tin- j-Mirmynian tii-Iv
•oiur utraw or h.iy. and hudiU-ii it xwuwt hi.n to
driw l.iin nji : whiMi h»» ni'liavoiin-i to ,r-t nj* th»*
hi.-l liKi", h«' f iiiid th. n* \va«i a h.ir :n:i'-s ihi*
chiii'.Jify. whii-h ii»M: uld not ]Kis«.: h" v. ;.^ i.:i'.i:.'tMi
in C'»ii!«i'ijuoi:n" \u (-omf^dciWn. r'li"! iho ;>'i'::«'\inan
heat him w cnu'lly. t* u.«e hin own fxpn^si^n.
that In; (oiih! not stand for a forlni'jht.

•' III till' whoh« lity of Niirwirh I couh! tind
only I m-rliiiiliiiiif Ii.iy*. f.v.i i.f ulmi.i I .j;i-ti •i.«;i
on iii.i! \ ;.arti< i.'.'.i* : luu- w-,'.'* \\\\ r-,-i-r! to th •
ma: I .-r i:i '.\;:i,li tioy af tuii.ht to r:ip:h : th-y
h -ii aji..-.l ill th.it |ai" .wl.ir. ti-it a l.'_. r i- y
wa- S-: t n.i I-.;;in.i ll- ni t'«iii'ik tinir ti.l. if
ti.iy doi n it x ni.h pi'iiitiy. \ piirj«".,»;y a\i'i'i'*d
ni«i:li' 11 i!„ all ut priikiiii: t'oin w.tii p'ti<. hut

a*l.-d V. how they did it ; t'o-v Had that ihi-y

thiii-t t!i«- pm-i into tin' H'llr^ if th«'ir f.«ft. A
tliipii in^taiiir' imnrnd at Wnlt'i im^tow : a man.
t«ii : HI" tl.at s nil' hf know luni li.- n rnw.'lit i:i
tin- sniic w.iy: J h»!ii'vo j: to !.«• inii'irs- :■. Ini! \
cann- t »t;i!" a: y nDn* in^tannx tr mi antiMlty."

:;. <':i !:•.• -li!.: ,t ..f ij... ... .. /.,, . ... .... '...'<,

I" »•.-.. oi.'l <f ■■»... . to whiiMi rhniMii'V "V.ij-p.Ts in

!li-t ;ip:-M.t:. '-fiip^ v.-.j-.- j.t ou\\- .-M.r'.Mi. hnt.
a^ It w-i,., o.in-!iiniir-.i. ,Mr. I.'. Wii.;':. a <-ar
pi'.-n, ii!i h. iiiv i\;iji;:!j.'d i..t ..-.. th-* < '••siMjItl.''-.
sii'.. •• I nh.id h.'L':n with Ih/ - .-•',. 1 a::i wi-li p.-r-
si:al«-«i tliat iho d' fnni'ity oi" th*- ^piin*. l»'j:<. :«r;«i«.
\c.. »d rliinnn"y-j,wec|'(rs. •.'•iii'iaily. if i!'>t u}n.]Iy,
pro,!' ,.s Jfiii tho liivmn-t.iiK.* of tioir hiiijir
oiili'.;i'il ii.it «.i.ly t'» ::o lip riiiir.in-y.'* at an aLO.'
wli.'ii in.ir hiiiiri are ni a xill an*; u'l" nni; >\:\\*\
hilt !k«'wi<M j.nm their h.'ii.;r e>.:i:|„ iii-.l }.y their
t"»o 1. •■!cil«v'< M.i^(.*!> {\\\'\ r.i:*tri-M'- l«i rarry hai;<
i»f ^ -.t ■.nnl th«»-- vi-ry fieiji,iMitl\ ti.r a i:r«at
h'li.j:. i.f «!iNtiiU" ai-'l t^niei hy f.r- to-, h a'.y f . r
their li-ndrr yi-.ii-'* ;»n'! iiii'h««. '"\,v kn»e«i ami
ande i»ini<t nii-.^tly hiM-otne "hdnnMeH. in the 11 r-.
instiinie, from lh»» pMsitjon iKt-y an- ohlii:ed to
put ihcm in. in order to mipport ti:em«elveji, not
<iiily \v':i''« ilimhii'j; up the thimi.ey, 1 u: '"ore
pnrtknhuW m in that of t-nminii down, wht.i i..' y
Ff'st ifolvly tti\ the lower oxtr'-niiiie*.

*' >'»rt #»/.•# and *>/'luh, are the next to >»e eon-
sid-red. rhimney-s.we*»pors are Terr uulijfrt to
intiimnuition if the eyeiidi^. and not unfrequ<*r.t1y
weakn">s o» si^'ht. in c«»n*equence. of iuch iiiHaiii-
liiAtion. This 1 attribute tu the circumstance of
the soot h»d«;intf on the eyeiid». which fir«si pro-
dutes iriit.ihi'.ity of thi> ]iart, und the constantly
ni!dii]i>r them with tht-ir nirty hand*. in»iead of
aiievi.siiiiL', iiure.i> h th.* di&ca.se ; lur I have ob-
.«erv(-d in a i.unih t of cmc*. when the patient haf
c •a'-eil f.»r a lime to f.illnw the bu.»ineM, and of
(■ I".:-!*" till- itt'ii:: .\\ can*e ha* been rein»>ved, that
vitii '.va hi:i^' aiii keeping cloan thoy wire Iijoh
ir«»t «eil.

'*>V.,-..*. fir th." .sjime reasoni, are jjer.era'.ly a
hmir time in healinj.

" f'ltii'ir is aiioth T and a mont fonnida:ih* dif-
ea^e, which chininey-»weopers in particular are
Iiahh' t<i, e.<perially tliat of tlie scrrHum ; fr>kin
wl.idi cirriinHlance. by way of distinction, it is
cili'd tile • chimneyswet*per'« cancer." Uf ihiii
5ort of cancel 1 have »*eii several in»ianccf. some
of which have he»>n operated on ; but, in general,
tliey are ap* t'» let them jid too far before they
apply f'»r r.li f. Car.cers of the lips are n«.t wJ
;: r.er.il as caIa■'-r^ of the KTotiim. I never saw
hat two in.stai.cid of tiie foinior, and fr'.'vcral of ibt
l;:fer.-

Tlie '• chimney-sweep's cancer" was al\v.iT»
lecture 1 tipin as a s<*parate disease at (iuy^ and
iJ'rtlii'ioniew's Ilii.^pitals. and on the que$.:ii»n
h •n-f \.','.' tn .Mr. Wiiiilil : " l»o lli*.' phytiijaas
\\\.n ;•;■•• intrusted with th<" ri'.P* and inana«j'-
nif :ii iif tli-'-e h« "pit. lis think that d'*'-a*e of
.such I- 'iLni'iii i.i* Mr -nee, that i: i^ mtvxiry tn
n:ake it a puii of ^l!rl:i'Mi e-incaiion .'* he repluii:
" M- «t jn^iind'.y ; I re'.ni inher Mr. <.'ine and
.Mr. ('■••ijir were particular on that .<inbjert : ::nd
hav.nii tme or two cases of the kind in tlo* ho».
[•ital. It .-irm k my m:nd \iry forcibly. With the
pirini.s>i Ml oi the ''onnr.ir.-e I wiil ^ela^* a c.i»e
tliat iHvunrd iately. wi'.uh 1 had from one of the
I tip;^ < f ^t. T:i«Mii;i->*s lln.pital : he iiif-Tincd iiw
i! •: lii-y recently i.a-l a c.".<" of a chsmneT-
-w ep r> earner. \\'-.*ch was. to ii. ve been njH'rafd
I'll iha' -vi-k. but Hi- in.ni * brr.s'ed' iiouf«» thtir
i'xp:« »»i.'i" "T rari- r walked t.ft': he would not
hMlnnit t'l'.-' opT;i:i in : simiiar inst.inei'sof which
I have ki'owii n.y-i it. They drend no much the
knite. in ciiii««<n'i i- e of fotiii5«h persons te'.inj
th'Mii it i-i so torniiiiable an operation, and that
they will die un.ier it. I o-nceive without the
operation it i* death ; for careers are «if that
naliiie tl.at un]i'>s ymi extricate them entirely they
wii! nevi r be cured."

<'f the cliiniiey-.swecier's cancer, the filloning
>tal«'niei!t i* i::vi'U in the Uepi-rt : '* ilr. <"lii5e
inforiaeil xeiir <'"innirtee by letter, that this dis-
ease is ran "y seen in any other |>ersens than
chiianey.swe-j.-rs. and in tlii'in can.not be cnxi-
sidered n> triijUi-nt : for durinir his pnictice in St,
Th'-mas'j* h<'>; iial, for more thaa -lU year*, the
number of thohe could not exceed 20. But vtHir
(.'••mniiitee have he( n infonneii that the drr<i%l ri
the operation which it is necessary t-> ferfi'm.
o»o'A'v ' \\v.\\v ^xvAw subuutting to it: and fieni tie

I I

LONDOy LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

851

evidence of perions engaged in the tnde, it appears
to be much more conunoii than Mr. Gline seenu to
bo awnro o£

" Couyk and Asthma. — Chimney-sweepers are,
from their beins: out at all hours and in all
weathers, very liable to cough and inflammation
of the chest.

'• /iarfu. — They are very subject to bums, from
thoir being forced up chimneys while on fire, or
j K»»on after ihey have been on fire, and m'bile over-
heated ; and however they may cry out, their in-
I human masters pay not the least attention, but
> compel them, too often with horrid imprecations,
to proceed.

'* *SiHiit4d groitth, in this unfortunato mce of the
c^ lununity, is attributed, in a great measure, to
tijfir being brought into the business at a very
tally agr?,"

To accidinU they were frequently liable in the
pursuit of their adiings. and sometimes these
accidents were the being jammed or fixed, or. as
it was called jn the tnde, " stuck," in narrow and
heated fliu^s, sometimes fur hours, and until death.
Among these hapless lads were indeed many
deaths from accidents, cruelty, pri\'ation, and ex-
haostiou, but it does not appear that the number
was ever ascertained. Tbere were also many
narrow escapes from dreadful deaths. I give in-
stances of each : -

"On Monday morning, tho 20ih of March,
1S13, a chimney-sweeper of the name of Griggs,
attended to sweep a small chimney in the brew-
house of Messrs. Calvert and Co., in Upper
Thames-street ; he was accompanied by one of his
)k>js. a lad of about eight years uf ug^, of the
name of Thomas I'itt. The fire hod been lighted
as early as two o'clock the same morning, and was
burning on the arrival of Griggs and his little
boy at eiglit: the fireplace was small, and an
iron pipe projected from the grute some Utile dis-
tance, into the flue ; this the nmster was ac-
quainted with (having swept tho chimneys in the
brew house for some years) and therefore had a tile
or two taken from the roof, in order that the
boy might descend the chimney. lie had no
sooner extinguished the fire than he suffered the
lad to go down ; and the consequence, as might be
espectrd, was his almost immediate death, in a
state, no doubt, of tncxpresiiblc agony. The flue
was of the narrowest description, and must have
retained heat sufficient to have prevented the
child's return to the top, even supposing he had
not appr«)a£hed the pipe belonging to the grate,
which must have been nearly red-hot ; this, how-
ever, was uot clearly ascertained on the inquest,
tli»ugh the appearance of the body would induce
i mi opinion that he had been unavoidably pressed
I against the pipe. Soon after his dcKont, the
master, who remaiiuid on the top, was apprehen-
sive that something had happened, and therefore
desired him to come up ; the answer of the boy
was, ' I cannot come up, master ; I must die here.'
An alarm was given in the brewbouse, imme-
diately, that he hud stuck in the chimney, and a
bricklayer who was at work near the spot at-

tended, and after knocking down part of the brick-
work of the chimney, just above the fire-place,
made a hole sufficiently large to draw him through.
A surgeon attended, but all attempts to restore
life were ineifi>ctual. t)n inspecting the body,
various bums appeared ; the fleshy part of the
legs, and a great part of the feet more particularly,
were injured ; those parts, too, by which climbing
boys most elTectuiiily ascend or descend chimneys,
viz., the elbows and knees, seemed burnt to the
bone; from which it must be evident that the
unhappy sufferer made some attempts to return as
soon as the horrors of his situation became ap-
parent."

** In the improvement nodo some years sinoe
by the Bank of Enghind, in Lothbury, a chimney,
belonging to a Mr. Mildrum, a baker, was taken
down, but before ho bet^an to bake, in order to
see that the rest of the flue was clear, a boy was
sent up, and after remaining some time, and not
answering to the cull of bis master, another boy
was ordered to descend from the top of the flue
and to meet him hiUf-way ; but this being found
impracticable, tltey opened the brickwork in the
lower part of the flue, and found the first-men*
tioned boy dead. In the mean time the boy in the
upper port of the flue called out for relief, saying,
he was completely jammed in the rubbish and
was unable to extricate himself. Upon this a
bricklayer was employed with the utmost expe-
dition, but he succeeded only in obtaining a life-
less body. The bodies were sent to St. Margaret's
Church, Lothbury, and a coroner's inquest, which
sat upou them, returned the verdict — Accidental
Death."

'* In the beginning of the year 1803, a chimney-
sweeper's boy being employed to sweep a chimney
in Marsh-street, Walthamstow, in tho house of
Mr. Jeffery, carpenter, unfortunately, in his at-
tempt to get down, stuck in the flue and was
unable to extricate himself. Mr. JelTery, being
within hearing of the boy, immediately procured
assistance. As the chimney was low, and the top
of it e:uily accessible from without, the boy was
taken out in alraut ten minutes, the chimney-pot
and several rows of bricks having been previously
removed ; if be had renuiined in that dreadful
situation many minutes longer, he must have
died. His master was sent for, and he arrived
soon after the boy had been released ; he abused
him for the accident, and, after striking him, sent
him with a bag of soot to sweep another chimney.
The chiUl appeared so very weak when taken out
that he could scarcely stand, and yet this wretched
being, who had been up ever since three o'clock,
had befi>re been sent by his master to Wanstcad,
which with his walk to Marsh-street made about
five miles."

" In May, 1817, a boy employed in sweeping a
chimney in Sheffield got wedged &st in one of
the flues, and remained in that situation near two
hours before he could be extricated, which was at
length accomplished by pulling down part of the
chimney."

On one occasion a child remained «b«^« V«^
hours iuioia« ^an^*^! '\^ ^t\w»xkv;»T^'Co«t 'Cb»».

352

LOXDOX LABOUR AXD THE LOXDOX POOR.

I

venture drnvn and oncounter hi« master's nngcr.
The man was held to bail, which he could not
procure.

As in the cases I have described (at Messrs.
CalvertV, and in Lothbury*, the tcrdict was
usually " Accidenuil Dciith," or something etjui-
valent.

It WHS otherwise, however, where wilful cruelty
was proven.

The foUowinu' case was a subject of frequent
c iiniiicnt at the timt; :

"Oh Vnday, ;jl»i May, 1816, William Moles
ami Saraii his wife, wer«; tried at the Old Bailey
for the wilful murder of John Ilewley, alias
Ha.?"'l"y, a boy about tXx years of age, in the
iniuith of Apiil last, by cruelly beating him.
L'lidiT irje direction of the leiirned judge, they
v,i':e at'(niiite«l of the crime of murder, but the
luiHliand wa.4 detained to take his trial as for a
mi.Mb'nKvinor, of which he was convicti-d upon the
fulK'st evidence, and sentenced to two years' im-
ptisonsiu'iit. The fiicts, as proved in this case, are
t'H) >huckiii:; in detail to relate : the substance of
tij<Mn I.-, that h«' was forced up the chimneir on the
slioMidiT iif a biifijer boy, and afterwards violently
{■niii-d (iowii aifiin by the leg and dashed upm a
ni.-.rliiH hiMrth ; his leg was thus br»k'-n, and
d v.th eiisii'-ii in a f<w hours, and on his body and
k:n"s v.iii* fiiund tears arising from wounds of a
niurh i!«ler date."

Thii lon;r continund system cif cruelties, of vio-
latimiN of publii* and private duties, bore and
rip- ii'.-i its natural frnin. The climbing boys
u'.'vv up til 111* unhealthy, vicious, iLMiDranl, and
i'l!<' i:iiii. f>r liiuiiiL; tlnrir appr.-ntice<hips tht-ir
1.1 i. '\\v \\A< i»\cr e.irl> in the day. and they ofien
]'a-v:i ;nvay tlu-ir K-isuro in gainblinir in thn
►ti.iN with one another and other chiliren «if
t!i<T .-t.imji. avthi'V fn'tjucntly had iialfpciict* jriven
I" tl:'!ii. Tii«y p!.iy«'il also at " eliuck and toss *
wit!', th.' j"iirni'ynjen, and ot course wi-re stripped
ot . '. "ly firiiiiiiir. Thus tht-y became indolent
an i fill 'if I'Ncifnient. When a lad ceased to
l-' Mil a:|ir«niin\ although he might bo but 10, he
Ava'^ to > lii^' to climb, and even if ht; got employ-
n:«'i:: as a joiinifyman, his remuiu>ration was
wr •{• luul, only "J ■. a wei-k, with hi* board and
1 ■«';.'iii'j. Th«*r.' won*, however, far f:»wer com-
pla.iits 'f beinu' in*uHi(i»'ntly ftnl than might have
b"'-ii i-ApiTted, but the sl»'i*ping plac<'s were ex-
«'«ral)Ii : ■' They .<li'ep in diif«*rent phicos," it was
^t it<-(], " >>ninetimi."i in sh*'ds, and sometimes in
j>!ae.s which we call barracks (large rooms^, or in
till' cellar (wlu*re the soot was kept) ; 8ome never
sU'cp upiin anything; th.it can be called a bed ;
K)nie d«»."

.Mr. T. Allen, a master sweep for 22 years, gave
thi' Comniitt'U" the f(»llowing account of th: //len's
tai-)iuii/< uhil (what may be called) the O'eifntt
Pt'i'/uu'iifct of tht: traU:' under the exploded
By>tem :

"If a man be 25 years of age, he has no more

than 2.«. a week : he is not clothed, only fed and

]odgt'd in the .s.ime manner as the boys. The 2.<.

H n-cek is not sufficient to fmd \\\m dol\ies «;i\di

other necessaries, certainly not; it it hardly
enough to find him with shoe-leather, for they
w<ilk over a deal of ground in going al»out the
streets. The journeyman is able to live upon those
wjigcs, for he gets halfpence given him : supposing
he is IC or 20 years of age, fie gets the boys' pence
from them and keeps it ; and if he happens to get
a job for which he receives a Ix.., he gets 6c/. of
that, and hit master the other 6ti. The boys* pence
are what the boys get after they have been doing
their master's work; they get a 1</. or so, and the
journeyman takes it from them, and * licks' them
if they do not give it up." [These " jobs " after
the master's work had been done, were chance
jobs, as whi;n a journeyman on his round wu
called on by a stranger, and unexpectedly, to
sweep a chimney. Sometimes, by arrangement of
the journeyman and the lad, the proceeds never
retiched the master's pocket. Sometimes, but
rarely, «uch jobs were the journeyman'! rightful
perquisite.] " Men,*' proceeds Mr. Allen, " who
are 22 and 23 years of age will play with tbe
young boys and win their money. That is, th^
get half the money from them by force, and tlie
rest by fraud. They are driven to this comN
from the low wages which the masters give xhm,'
becau!k> they have no other means to get anythui|
for themselves, not even the few necessaries which
they may want: for even what they want to mJk
with they must get themselves. As to whst be>
comes of the money the boys get on May^i^'y
when they are in want of clothen, the master iml
buy them, as check shirts or handkerchiefs. Thm '
masters get a share of the money which the hsnrt
colhci on May day. The boys have about It. «f
I'c. '!'/. ; the journeyman has also his »bare; thn
the master trikes tht* riMuainder, which is to \mf
the boysi' clothes and other necessaries, as they liy.
I cannot exactly tell what the avercige amount il
that a boy will get on the May-day ; the nUMt
that my b«iy e\er uut was 5»*. Hut I tbink thit
the boys get mt)re than that ; I should think tbcT
get as mui-h as !>.<. or lOx. apiece. The Christms>
lioxes are g-Mierirly, I believe, divided amom
then).«elves (amoni; the boy.<') ; but I cannot BT
rightly. It i.s .'^jieiit in buying silk handkerchie&t
or Siniday shoes, I believe ; but I am not per-
fiH-'tly sure."

Of the condition and lot of the operatives wb«

were too big to go up chimneys, Mr. J. Fisher, a

master-swcepi-r, i;ave the following accnuut : —

*' Tht.t/ tjf.t lido a i'tjiinij »'*(( y. ami jo aftntf /'Xr-,

' one nu.i.iter ^• anftJuv, ah 'I thr'f •>t't'n cvthc fa ft-

ijuotl tn*l ot last. They sometimes go into the

coutitry, and after staying there some lime, t-'-oy

come back again; I took a bn- of tliat *■«

'' very lately and kept him like njy own, and lo:

him go t>) schnnl ; he a."»ked me one :f unday to lot

him go to school, and I was glad to let him i!\

and I gave him leave ; he accordingly went, and I

have seen nothing of him since; before he wtrct

I he asked me if I would let him come honte to see

. my child buried; I told him to ask his ^ohoo'-

' master, but he did not come back again. I r.innot

I tell what has become of him ; he was t<^ h.i^e

^ wsiN^iA. wxe Cvir twelve months. I did not take him

5
B

H
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II

■M

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOH

358

from the parish; he came to me. He said hia
parents were dead. The ^ect of Uie roving habit
of the large bo}/s when ihe^/ hecome too large to
dimhf ?*, thai they get one with another and learn
bad habits from one anotJter; they ntver will stop
long in any one place. They frequently go into
the country and get various places ; perhaps they
stop a month at each ; some try to get masters
themselves, and some will get into bad company,
which very often happens. TA<» they turn tliitves,
they get la^y, they won't work, and people do not
Hie to employ them lest they should tale anything
out of their houses. The generality qf t/tsm never
settle in, any steady business. They generally
tnm loose characters, and people will nc^t em-
ploy them lest they should take anytliing out of
the house."

The criminal annals of the kingdom , bear out
the foregoing account. Some of these boys, indeed,
when they attained man's estate, beoune, in a
great measure, through their skill in climbing,
expert and enterprising burgUra, breaking into
places where few men would have cared to ven-
ture. One of the most daring feats ever at-
tempted and accomplished was the escape from
Newgate by a sweeper abtiut 15 years ago. He
climbed by the aid of his knees and elbows a
height of nearly 80 feet, though the walls, in the
comer of the prison-yard, where this was done,
were nearly of an even surface : the slight<'st i«lip
could not have failed to have precipitated the sweep-
er to the bottom. He was then under sentence of
death for highway rolibery.

" His name was Whitehead, and he done a
more wonderfuUer thing nor that," remarked an
informftiit, who had been his master. ** We was
sweeping the bilers in a sugar-house, and he went
firom the biler up the flue of the chimney, it was
nearly as high as the Monument, that chimiH>y; I
should say it was 30 or ^0 feet higher nor the
sugar-home. He got out at the top, and slid
down the bare brickwork on the ouuiUe, on to
the roof of the house, got through an attic window
in the roof, and maiuiged to get off without any
one knowing what became of him. That was the
most wonderfullest thing I ever knowed in my life.
I don't know how he e5cap*'d from being killed, but
lie was always an oudacious frller. It was nearly
three months after afore we found him in the
country. I don't know where they sent him to
after he was brous>ht biick to Newgate, but I henr
they made him a turnkey in a prison somewhere,
and that he 's doing very well now." The feat at
the sugar-house couid be only to escape from his
apprenticeship.

In the course of the whole Parliamentary
evidence the sweepers, reared under the old
climbing system, are spoken of as a "short-lived"
nee, but no statistics could be given. Some died
old men in middle age, in the workhouses.
Many were nure vagrants at the tiiM of their
death,

I took the statement of a man who had been
what he called a "climbing" in his childhood,
but as be is now a master- sweeper, and has indeed
gone through all grades of the business, I shall

give it in my account of the present condition of
the sweepers.

Climbing is still occasionally resorted to, espe-
cially when repairs are required, ** but the climb-
ing b<»ys," I was told, •* are now men." These
are slight d^var^lsh men, whose services are often
in considerable request, and csmnot at all times be
commanded, as there are only about twenty of
them in London, so effectually has climbing been
suppressed. These little men, I was told, did
pretty well, not unfroqueutly getting 2^. or
'2s. Gd. for a single job.

As regards the labour qnestlon, during the ex-
istence of the climbing boya, we find in the Report
the following results : —

The nominal wages to the jonmeymen were
2.*. a wefk, with board and lodging. The appren-
tices received no wages, their masters being only
required to feed, lodge, and clothe them.

The actual wages were the same as the nominal,
with the addition of l.t. as perquisites in money.
There were other perquisites in liquor or broken
meat.

In the Reports are no accounts of the duration
of labour throughout the year, nor con I obtain
from master-sweepers, who were in the business
during the old mode, any sufficient data upon
which to found any cnlcuJMtions. The employ-
ment, however, seems to have been generall}' con-
tinifous, running throtv.'h t!ie yp:ir ; though in the
Cdurse of the twelvemonth one master would have
four and another six ditVerent journeymen, but
only one at a time. The vagrant propensities of
the class is a mesuis of accounting for this.

The nominal wages of those jonmeymen who
resided in their own apartments were generally
14x. a week, and their actual about 2s.,6d. extra
in the fonn of perquisites. Others resided "on
the premises," having the care of the boys, with
board and lodgings and 5s. a week in money
nominally, and 7s. 6d. aetvallyf the perquisites
being worth *2s. 6d.

Concerning the general or average wages of the
whole trade, I can only present the following com-
putation. '

Mr. Tooke, in his evidence before the House
of (/ommons, stated that the Committ«>e, of which
he was a membj>r, had ascertained that one boy
on an average swept about four chimneys daily, at
pric«*s varying fn>ni 6</. to 1*. 6rf., or a medium
return of about lOc^. per chimney, exclusive of
the soot, then worth Sd. or 9c/. a bushel. " It
appears," he said, " from a datum I have here,
that those chimney-sweepers who keep six boys
(the greatest number allowed by hiw) gain, on an
average, nearly 270/. ; five boys, *225L ; four
boys, 180/. : three boys, 135/. ; two boys, 90/.;
and one boy 451. (yearly), exclusive of the soot,
which is, I shoidd suppose, upon an average, from
half a bushel to a bushel every time the chimney
is swept."

" Out of the profits you mention," he was then
asked, " the master has to maintain the boys ? " —
" Yes," was the answer. " and when the expenses
of honse and cellar rent, and the wages of joiur-
neymen, and the niaintenauee o€ a^Y^^^Ssx^t^tt^

\

354

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

taken into the account, the number of master
chimney-sweepers is not only more than the trade
will support, but exceeds^ by above one-third,
what the public exigency requires. The Com-
mittee also ascertained ' tliat the 200 master
chimney -s^^'eepers in the metropolis were sup-
posed to have in their employment 150 journey-
men and 500 boys."

The matter may be reduced to a tabular form,
expressing the amount in money — for it is not
asserted that the masters generally gained on the
charge for their journeymen's board and lodging
— as follows : —

Exr£M>iTURE or Master CnixKET-S weepers

UNI>KR THE ClIXOINQ-BoT SySTEM.

Yearly.
20 journeymen at individual wages,

14«. each weekly .... £780

SOditto, soy 12*. weekly . . 936

100 ditto, lOrf. ditto . . . 2,600
lioard. Lodging, and Clothing of

500 boys, 4*. Qd. weekly . . . 5,850

Rent, 20 Urge traders, 10*. . . 520

Do. 30 others, 7* 546

Do. 150dn.,3*.<j(/. . . . 1,365

20 hor.u-8 (kec'p), 10*. . . . 620

Gen end wear and tear . . . 200

Total
Yearly expenditure

f39,lMK)

13,317

£13,317
It appears that about 1 SO of the master chim-
ney-sweepers were themselves working men, in
the same way as their joimieymen.

The following, then, may be taken as the —

Yeakly Ki:i;r,i]'7s or the Master Sweepeus
UM»i:!; THE Cli.mijinu-Lov iSystem.

Yearly.
Pnym^'nt fnr swcepinp 621,000
chimneys (1 daily, according to evi-
dence hpfore Parlianirnt, by onch of
•lOO boys). lOf/. percljimju'v, or yearly 1'2*.I,000

Soot (accordinjf to sini',' account),
say .1'/. per chimney . . . 13,000

Yearly profit . . £2r).C83
This yielded, then, accordinc: to the infonna-
tion submitted to tln^ ILiuse of Commons Select
Committee, as the profits of the trade prior to
lbl7, an individual yearly gain to each master
sweeper of 128/. : but, taking Mr. Tooke's average
vearlv profit for the six classes of tradesmen,
270/.* 225/., ISO/., 13.0/.. y«)/.. and A'yl. respec-
tively, the individual profit averages aboTC 157/.

The capital, I am informed, would not average
above two guineas per master sweeper, nothing
being wanted beyond a few common sacks, made
by the sweepers' wives, and a few brushes. Only
about 20 had horses, but barrows were occasion-
ally hired at a busy time.

In the foregoing estimates I have not included
any sums for apprentice fees, as I believo there
would be something like a balance in the matter,
the mtuten sometimei paying parents such pre-

miums] for the use of their cliildran u thej re-
ceired from the porishei for tlie tuiiion and main-
tenance of others.

Of the moralif edHcation, reliffion, mamagt,
&c., of iweepen, under the two eyitema, I ihall
speak in another place.

It may be somewhat cnrioni to conclude with a
word of the extent of chimneya awept by a
climbing boy. One respectable master-sweeper toU
me that for eleven yean he had climbed fire or
six days weekly. During this period he thought
he had swept fifteen chimneyi aa a week's ave*
rage, each chimney being at least 40 feet in height;
io traversing, in ascending and deacending,
686,400 feet, or 130 miles of a world of sooi.
This, however, is little to what has been done
by a climber of 30 yean* standing, one of
the little men of whom I have spoken. My
informant entertained no doubt that ihis man hsd,
for the first 22 years of his career, climbed hilf
as much again as he himself had ; or had ta-
versed 2,05U,200 feet of the interior of chimnevi,
or 390 miles. Since the new Act this man had
of course climbed less, but had still been a good
deal employed ; so that, adding his progresses fix
the last 9 years to the 22 preceding, he must han
swept about 456 miles of chimney interiors.

Op the Ciiixxey-S weepers of tue Feisesi
Day.

The chimney-sweepers of the present day aif
distinguished from those of old by the use of
machines instead of climbing boys, for the purpose
of removing the soot from the ifuus of houses.

The chinmey-sweeping machines weri- first used
in this country in the year 18U3. They were the
invention of Mr. Smart, a carpenter, residing a:
the foot of Westminster-bridge, Sarroy. (.>n the
earlier trials of the machine (which was similar
to that used at present, and which I shall shortir
describe), it was pronounced successful in 1^9 osrt
out of luO, according to some accounts, but faiHnf
where sharp angles occurred in the llue, whica
arrested its jmigress.

" Means have been suggested,'* said Mr. Tookf,
formerly mentioned, in his evidence befor« a
Committee of the House of Commons, "for ob-
viating that dilficulty by fixed app.iratus .-.t the
top of the Hue with a jack-chain and pulley, bv
which a brush could be worked up and down, of
it could be done as is cu&toniary abroad, as I hw
repeatedly seen it at Petorsburgh. and heard of its
being done universally on the Continent, by letting
down a bullet with a brush attached to it from
the top ; but to obviate the inconvenience, which ii
considenible, from persons going upon the roof of
a house, Mr. John White, junior, an eminent iia<-
veyor, has suggested the expediency of putting
iron shutters or registers to each flue, in the roof
or cockloft of each house ; by opening which, and
working the machine upwards and downwards, or
letting down the bullet, which is the most cam*
pendious manner, the chimney will be most tSed-
ually cleansed; and, by its aperture at bottom
being kept well closed, it would be done with

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

855

the least postible dirt and inconTenience to the
fomily."

The todety for the supersedence of the labour
of climbing boys promoted the adoption of the
machines by all the means in their power, pre-
senting the new instrument gratuitously to several
master sweepers who were too poor to purchase it.
Experiments were made and duly published as to
the effectual manner in which the chimneys at
Guildhall, the Mansion House, the then new
Custom House, Dulwicfa College, and in other
public edifices, bad been cleansed by the'macfaine.
But these statements seem to have produced little
effect People thought, perhaps, that the mechani-
cal means which might rery well cleanse the
chimneys of large public buildings — and it was
said that the chimneys of the Custom House were
built with a view to the use of the machine —
might not be so serviceable for the same purposes
in small private dwellings. Experiments continued
to be made, often in the presence of architects, of
the more respectable sweepers, and of ladies and
gentlemen who took a philanthropic interest in the
question, between the years 1803 and 1817, but
with little influence upon the general public, for in
1817 Mr. Smart supposed that there were but 50
or 60 machines in general use in the metropolis,
and those, it appeared from the evidence of several
master sweepers, were used chiefly in gentlemen's
houses, many of those gentlemen having to be
authoritative with their servants, who, if not con-
trolled, always preferred the services of the climb-
ing boys. Most servants had perquisites from the
master sweepers, in the largest and most profitable
ways of business, and they seemed to fear the
loss of those perquisites if any change took place.

The opposition in Parliament, and in the general
indifierence of the people, to the efforts of " the
friends of the climbing boy" to supersede his
painful labours by the use of machinery, was
formidable enough, but that of the servants appears
to have, been more formidable still. Mr. Smart
showed this in his explanations to the Committee.
The whole result of his experience was that
servants set their faces against the introduction of
the machine, grumbling if there were not even the
appearance of dirt on the furniture after its use.
** The first winter I went out with this machine,"
said Mr. Smart, *' I went to Mr. Burke's in Token-
house Yard, who was a friend of mine, with a man
to sweep the chimneys, and after waiting above an
hour in a cold morning, the housekeeper came
down quite in a rage, that we [should presume to
ring the bell or knock at the door ; and when we
got admittance, she swore she wished the machine
and the inventor at the devil ; she did not know
me. We swept all the chimneys, and when we
had done I asked her what objection she had to it
now; she said, a very serious one, that if there
was a thing by which a servant could get any

emolument, some d d invention was sure to

take it away from them, for that she received
perquisites."

This avowal of Mr. Burke's housekeeper, as
brusque as it was honest, is typical of the feelings
of the whole class of servants.

The opposition in Parliament, as I have inti-
mated, continued. One noble lord informed the
House of Peers that he had been indisposed of late
and had sought the aid of calomel, the curative
influence of which had pervaded every portion of
his frame ; and that it as fax surpassed the less
searching powers of other medicines, as the brush
of the climbing boy in cleansing every nook and
comer of the chimney, surpassed all the power of
the machinery, which left the soot unpurged from
those nooks and comers.

The House of Commons, however, had expressed
its conviction that as long as master chimney-
sweepers were permitted to employ climbing boys,
the natural result of that permission would be the
continuance of those miseries which the Legislature
had sought, but which it had failed, to put an end
to ; and they therefore recommended that the use
of climbing boys should be prohibited altogether;
and that the age at which the apprenticeship
should commence should be extended from eight to
fourteen, putting this trade upon the same footing
as others which took apprentices at that age.

This resolution became kw in 1829. The em-
ployment of climbing boys in any manner in the
interior of chimneys was prohibited under penal-
ties of fine and imprisonment ; and it was enacted
that the new measure should be carried into effect
in three years, so giving the master sweepers that
period of time to complete their arrangements.
During the course of the experiments and inquiry,
the sweepers, as a body, seem to have thrown no
obstacles, or very few and slight obstacles, in
the way of the "Committee to promote the
Superseding of the Labour of Climbing Boys;"
while the most respectable of the chiss, or the
majority of the respectable, aided the efforts of
the Committee.

This manifestation of public feeling probably
modified, the opposition of the sweepers, and un-
questionably influenced the votes of members of
Parliament The change in the operations of the
chimney-sweeping business took place in 1832,
as quietly and unnoticcdly as if it were no change
at all.

The machine now in use differs little from that
invented by Mr. Smart, the first introduced, but
lighter materials are now used in its numufacture.
It has not been found necessary, however, to com-
plicate its use with the jack-chain and pulley, and
bullet with a brush attached, and the iron shutters
or registers in the roof or cockloft, of which Mr.
Tooke spoke.

The machine is formed of a series of hollow
rods, made of a supple cane, bending and not
brefjring in any sinuosity of the flues. This cane
is made of the same material as gentlemen's
walking-sticks. The first machines were made of
wood, and were liable to be broken; and to en-
able the sweeps on such occasions to recover
the broken part, a strong line ran from bottom to
top through the centre of the sticks, which were
bored for the purpose, and stmng on this cord.
The cane machine, however, speedily and effec-
tually superseded these imperfect instruments ; and
there are now none of them to be met with. To

\

350

loxjjox LAnorii am) the loxdox pooh.

thr top tiib.» of l!u» iij;chi:it» is ntt.ichod tbt*
•• liru#.|i," cuU'.l t'cliiiKaiiy " iho lu'iui." of fiaaiic
wi»ai«Mmnc .sfi:k'-}., wl.iiii "uivr"' aiu! li-nd. i:i
acconl.inco \\uh tlu- ii]i jir iIoaii iiioiioii I'Minim-
iiii.iU'd liv ll..' lu.iu n-..:!.ititr thi* in-'ihini-. ?:>
swriii'.iiur wliat wa^ if.Miil'iii to ino as "bfth
\v.iy>,'" up an! d iwn.

' SoMio of ihfM- pmI*. whii-h tit into om* anntln-r

\*y ni»'an^ vi Iii.ins jhitw*, arc 4 iii-i (> inclifi
l.'nu, and diTinii!-!! in diainfii-r in suit tlu'tr
ailjuj<lni«-:it. Sunn' m '^ a:.- hut .'t t'.'fl «I i.»:hi> Ion*,',
au'l ■; i.-.-i is tJ!.' t"..il av.-ia-.- Im^ili : wIuIp tin*
aM-rau-'- nria? i.i tis.- iui.lij.e m.iKi-r'^ i.h -J*. (»./. a
lui. il iMULfht .M'li :•. :i :y. Tii.- Ii.m.1 ^■•i.t^ I'o..
on .It: aMMiii;-!-. it l»..siu''it .s.-jiarattly. Ii i^ *Midnni
li:.il a niacii.ii • :, r •juiii'd t-i nuinluT l)"y«»T.d
17 I •;{> ■..•x: iii1:j .; •!•> t'.rij. awl liu- liKiiT tia-»
fl .M'.if;i.Ts . !•• L"-i; laily pniM-i.-d with 17 T»iU.
'I III* 1*1 "t I.; ill,' riiiiiv I iM- 'ii;i-, li.r fViTV Kind ol

, clii::iii»y;v.irk. wii. il •.. iirja*.-.! new. as a tvh'dc,
is, wlifi. (it oihhI -iu,'..y. litiw :'.<i.<. ti .v.. air.ird-
iii:; :•! thf ii'.:?ii' ,.j- ..• |..;».^. du:.i;.a:.» r»nU. \c.
-Mr. Saiart sta'-d. :n !'*17. t'lal V\o awiap"' price
ot oiu* ot iiJA niai;juu"< wan iIiimi •_'/. "■..

Th»' fcWi'i'jii IS wlio lalmur ciiiftly in tin'' puopT
lof.ilitii-s- and S'-wva] tnid n.i- li..w niiiilit'rt'Mt
many i>'-.iii!i' in mn*.. part-* wt-n* a?, to tii«-ir riiiiu-
jn'V> Im iiiir jiWi'pr at ■„'„ raivly ii^f a ni.uiiiM* to

I'M '.A i.-y-in :•<<• !.••:., ij on.' ciun) d «d i«»or 11

I'td" ; iji.: ^«■;i;.• ».i i;:i- iiijii..ir ii.i-!« nl sv.-fi-pi-r:!
l-ny u: t::..s. in a n\\. ii r w.iy n!" tr-".!' \\««:n

; in;:!.i;n-.-*, al ir-'i-.i a t!i:ri". 1 1 :: l.a'i" ri tl-.o jn* ni*
i"«--l. Tj!«-- r.r.r:i!'.'- tl.i-y \i'::u ii{> th'-niM'lvi-j.
••;i- :•'!::-.. dl ti;»- v, -r';. Iiii\v.\«-r. ll.ty cannot

j iijM":- or r- i".v •'.. 1 . . ..•:. ,!■ vv '•■■.I lir.i-.<

-'■■ !':■: :■:■ - ^^ . \.. •.. '.;. 1 w. j- t ■! .: .!
-"■■I ! ari:/.;,;i* \. • \\r:i ai' ••.: r i :• r.:i t:- ■ •
MirwH or i.-n.' .; In* -lu-ir v..-,'.. ri..i !:.t \'.'.i^>-
t!i.»lii!.i:ir;. ^'A.M-i.r-. a..d lli's .".'.r.-.i ir'.j..,!;,! ,„.i
la-t ai<i\i' a yi-.ir •■«■ i . .

T'li- r-iis .•! i.'.i* i-..,iVi..'. wl'iMi «av.fii!:v nt-
t.'iii!-.i t... :a-t .1 ...:._■ ;■:..*. «•.,.■ |.-..:i t '..i n:-

l.'ia! :i.' ,;.i^ i ■. .. r,,- -niji |.. .> u;...!. .■.• i-a-l

H'i..'<l .-..in- . :•_'•:.;. If \i-.i.. w.t I .■!•., ..11 a.
r- : aa'. "i \:\ ■ : :i.. .. 'i:-.. j .;.:; ,-.;}. r in-
iJiii'l nr ui.r:! «:.»\.n in a'.' nt t-vo yi-ar^ : J!" i.i.t
u-.l i'i:".ii' :t M-:. ill a _\iar. 'i":i«- »:i.i •:<■: rut'
t'l!* : M* 1.; il- .;. ;... ,.., :!;.. a>,. -..^^^ .. -^ ^n. in ^
'■ll-.; :-:% :..f'i!i. a:;- ».a ". Ii j.;-!'! -^ai-j ! a I'.i-ii-
n.'\ lit ^■- f... :. a: 1 ■ ..r .it" l-jv ! ■!: ■a-\v..i:-.t<
!a.i villi t!:.!' ;.,. ... ■ ^.vj-r a i Ji: mi .y .f I'Jii
t<-''t liui ; 1!j )i .'.Ii c. i iiy I v-aiis i.t tiiM iirirtiin-.
-My inJ.rinaiii. i..>wc\.r. ti«.:ili.i .smii a l«'ai as
t'li' !_«'■}.■. I NWf-.. w.j. lia:ii.\ |i i.- .;!.'«•. ai oiiiy
I'll- Ilia:!*?. ►;.■. ri.M ijiii »..■ .i,.!.!. .. t.. il.c ji;n.'iiin.':
a::'l i>" wa«. ••: .• ;.,iii!, : ,at i. f man'.'. Iiu-m n ar
j-.'iw.TM \v....l.i II- >:i,!:. !, ai t. work a nn-
«iriM- at a ii. „i,i uf 1 'J . 1 .•:. TIl- lah..i:r !>
^>■..:l•ti^l»-., viiv M*\i'ro; " i'i..iii.^|i." oim' ^t:•ll;l•Jl_\-
Iniilt itiun [ii'd iiH'. •' to make y«>ur arm.", head,
:ind iic.iri acli.*.''

Thp old ta^liic.nrd fhininey.s aiv uniiTHlIy 1*2

, by 14 iiichi> in their diii.en.Mi.ns in ihr imcrior ;

j and lor tiie ihuroiigb f weeping of «ucii chimneys —

thf opinion of all lh«» s\vi»"piTs I saw nccnrdin:; f-n
thi- Mibjrc: -a iii'ad {'.i i» r.ir».'ly c.ilu'd bruih in
t:i>* tradci of 1^ inche-i diameter is insuliii-ient.
yet l!!t»y arc neldom M.-»ed laru'trr. Diu* ixil.lhgent
iinsttT «we» por, spfakiiigfroni his own kiiov. it'dge,
toUl nic that in tho neii^h boar hood where he
workisi iuinilN.'rs i>f ho.ises bud Ixvu built since
th" intnMlnc'iitn of tno i lachines, and tho chim*
iK^ys were only *J incins t.quHre, a<» re^^urds the
intrrior ; thi' Mi.aller tlii-s an* munetinu'S but 7.
Thi'*-** *.'-iiK'h chiinnpyii, hi* told me, wore fre-
ipiiMit in ".srinip:-d" hou>ek. Iioii^s i;i»t up at th-i
itiw«'>i pti->:l.le rat«* by s)H'Culatiiiic bi:ild»*i>. This
v-a^ tl-nii* kH*.aii.sf tlie brickwork ui t:.'* c'.i:nnt*ys
i.M.'»ts niori» liian ihi'otluT p«rtitins«d' the nj.:»onry,
aiid <ii tli'> hMaiK'r the diaien^:i>ii.< oi t!:o cinmneri
•h.; I.-!* t!ie cot of th- rdifsce. The inachiaes
arc ronii tir.i!*-i :i4 niiic!i cii;'])!* d in t:.:s eLcuin-
."Scribed hp.'irtf n* th'-y are f.mnd of insn'licient di-
nieii^ii'inA in the ii)d-fa>!ii<>:ted chimneys: and s-)

ti Kiinp'd* chimney, nnles.** by a nia«ter hav-

inir many "head.*," i» not .♦■o cleanly swept as it
niii:ht be. Chimneys not bniit in tins manner

. are now nsniliy U inthei by 14.

! In cb'ansin^ a thininey with the machine the

' ^werp stands by. or lather in, tbu liie-ibce,
iiavin<4 tir.-^l attacised a ^ort i-f cnrtain to the
niantb* to confine the ».>oi to on * frpvt, the njicratar
s.Mi.dinir in>.de tlii.-i cnrta.n. He ii:.<»t iii'.r-.duies
tlie " i.e.il." attac'M d to iti pro} rr r.ii. ;!.*.o the
chiiiney. •• d:i«i.»_''" it t Tw.'.!*!. ii»-!i »cr -ws wi
tM.' i:-vt r.»d. arid s-i cj:, unli: tb- lo-ad h.;» been
driven t» liii* top of th- th:i:siMy. Tlie suol
which lia^ fallen n; on the b-arcii. wiij;i;i tiie
lint till. !«. c'll rt -d nt« .• su-^i or .:•!.•«.;:• d il
•■'.!:i'i .•iv..'y ■»!» :'. ■ !.•!•■:. "?>.; k-, ai 1 • ■., . "i .:!y
••I « .::«. 1 ::r u«,. ■ •■• !,.• ■• :'..v ^ . :' t::« '...- I ; ;..■
•:.. 'i' to i-\'.-i!ii in •••■ \ .. !•■! ■; •;. ^. I'.a: •.'.!,••:
it !• nio\iMi n-. pa:' '"f t''* r! -.i::!,. y. it ini- *'.:;f,u'e
it' exiMi. ••.«■:•.(•••* i-nt.ii-t v i:!i i:;'*^i' >5'ii;i'j«. if
ihe w.>ik be tan'iniiy ii .m-, a> iiuio il it i^rn-.*-
I.I ly i-: f.*:- th.- I'.iMiH-r tlie t.iiinin«-y i* *.'. . j-; of
ru:^!' tlie LTeat'T jinr'M-.t of f- i ;.•!;. to :he
I :'»::l of i-f ^v. e |mt. I'. •• n as. t .«" :... li;..: l.c
!li» ..'hi iie h.-.d M- n in - !::•• ol.i i.ii: c:i. !«::«■ y?. .1
1 "'J tiai- nii*'.v« pt. nior- > » •: lu is,.:; ..Jiw,: l:v
!'!• i!!.-.cii:a- than. wmI-t .".'m ar i ;: :•...::.••.» .-s .i*
I I ;':•' l.iif i:;i" c!i::nii -v Is d ri"n. i :.i il U!:.U- i.sid.
w •,• d l..iV'- '.-tei, i\- lie by t!.* ri.ni'i it l.i.v.

A.l Jiie i'ia-:e:- s'W'i-p'!-: I «aw e.-iH-.iri-ii -.n tht-
"".•■.I '•■*.\ t!' i: tli-" rs.u a If \\a-: .■••' ir. a!. :•••.«.•• c:*
.•.I •■;«•! tive a >\.\r "i- ..... the cIi!Mir,i:j b"»y. a.* it
j.i* not r •.:«*li t'le r-(f-.".»'«, n'"".'k>. <!ai.n!e«. ir
■.•■^•"i ii. tli«' ri.iitKi'-y. w!"-;ei!ie »o,.t M-nnin* Iu:lc
•ii.-liirl.efi by th<- pi.M'il piir-!*8. Tiii.-* want ii Jeit
!h»' nio-<l in the clian^in'.' of the ciid-laHlijuij.ni
ciiininevs. e^peiialiy in the country.

.Mr. Toi.k. in l.**17. .N:atid i«» the <'.»tiin»iitc*
thit the eb'an-.iiiL' of a liiininey b} a i» .y tip l-y «i
niHi'iine nirnpii-.i tlu* .".aiue »pic.- of lime; i>ui I
nnil the v;ene.'-al opinion oi the swi-ej-ers rmn to W

. that it it only tiie small ar.d »t..i.;<iit cinn-.-ys
wl.i.ii I'll! lie ^\vept 'vit.'i as i:r:al (•Inity i»y a
nvo liine ha by a clinil.er : in a'.l o:)iers the !ad
was qnick'-r by about o n:inute> i:i oO, or in that

. jiri-pirtion.

LONDON LABOUR AND THS LONDON POOR.

357

I heard streepen represent that the passing of
the Act of Parliament not only deprived them in
many instances of the unexpired term of a boy's
apprenticeship in his services as a climber, but
" thretv open the business to any one." The
business, however, it seems, was always " open to
any one." There was no art nor mystery in it, as
regardi-d the functions of the master; amy one
could Bend a boy up a chimney, and collect and
carry uway the boot he brought down, quite as
readily and far more euttily than he can work a
machine. Nevertheless, men under the old system
could hardly (and some say they were forbidden
to) embark in this trade unless they had been
apprenticed to it; for they were at a loss how
to possess themselves of climbing boys, and how
to make a connection. When the machines were
introduced, however, a good many persons who
were able to ** raise the price" of one started
in the line on their own account. These men
have been called by the old hands *' leeks" or
" green 'uns," to distinguish them irom the regu-
larly-trained men, who pride themselves not a
little on the fact of their having served seven or
eight years, "dulj' and truly," as they never fail
to express it. This increase of fresh liands tended
to lower the earnings of the class ; and some
masters, who were described to me us formerly
Tery "comfortable," and some, comparatively
speaking, rich, were considerably reduced by it.
Thenumberof ''leeks" in 1832 I heard stated, with
the exaggeration to which I have been a4;custamcd
when iininforincd men, ignorant of tiie relative
Talue of numbers, have expressed their opinions,
as 1000 !

The several classes in the chimney-sweeping
trade may be arranged as fallows : —

The Mastrr On'mnetf-Strttj/ers, called someiimos
** Governors'" by the journeymen, are divisible
into three kinds: —

The "large" or "high master*," who employ
from 2 to 10 men and 2 boyit, and keep sometimes
3 horses and a cut t, not particularly for the con-
veyance of the soot, but to gri into the country tj
a gentleman's house to fulfil orders.

The*' small" or "low masters," ^'ho employ,
on an average, two men, nnd sometimes but one
man and a boy, without either horse or cart

The '• single-handed master-men," who employ
neither men nor boys, but do all the work them-
selves.

Of these three classes of masters there are two
subdivisions.

The " leeks " or •* green-nns," that is to sny,
those who have not regularly served iheir time to
the trade.

The " knullers" or " queriers," that is to say,
those who solicit custom in an irregular manner,
by knocking at the doors of houses and such like.

Of the competition of capitalists in this trade
there are, I am told, no instances. " "NVe have
our own statioDS,** one master sweeper said, " and
if I contract to sweep a genelman's house, here
in Pancras, for 25.<. a year, or IOjt., or anythink,
my nearest neighbour, as has men and machines
fit, is in Marrybnn ; and it wouldn't pay to send

his men a mile and a half, or on to two mile, and
work at what I can — ^let alone less. No, sir, I 've
known bisness nigh 20 year, and there *s nothiuk
in the way of tliat underworking. The poor
crceturs as keeps thcirsclves with a machine,
and nothing to give them a lift beyond it, thetf 'd
undertake work at any figure, but nobody em-
ploys or can trust to them, but on chance.*' The
contracts, I am told, for a year's chiumey -sweeping
in any mansion are on the same terms with one
master as with another.

As regards the Journeymen Chimmy-Sviepers
there are also three kinds: —

The " forenmn " or " first journeyman " sweeper,
who acconifjanies the men to their work, super-
, intends their labours, and receives the money,
I when paid immediately after sweeping.
I The '' jouHK-yman " sweeper, whose duty it is to
I work the m tchine, and (where no undtr-joumey-
man, or boy, is kept) to carry the macLine and
I take home the sout.

I The " Under-joumeyman " or " boy,** who has
j to carry the machine, take home the soot, and
I work the machine up the lower-chiss flues.
! There are, besides these, some 20 climbing men,
who ascend snch flues as the machines cannot
cleanse effectually', and, it must, I regret to say,
be added, some iiO to 30 climbing boys, mostly
under eleven years of age, who are still used for
the same purpose "on the sly." Many of the
masters, indeed, lament the change to machine-
sweeping, saying that their children, who are now
useless, would, in " the good old tiuies," have been
worth a pound a week to them. It is in the
suburbs that these climbing children are mostly
employed.

The ftonrs of labour are from the earliest
moniing till about midday, and sometimes later.

There are no Jlouses of Calf, trade societies, or
regulations among these operatives, but there nro
low public-houses to which they resort, and where
they ciin always be he;ird of.

When a chimney-sweeper is out of work he
merely inquires of others in the sams line of busi-
ness, who, if they know of any one that wants
a journeyman, direct their brother sweepi-r to call
and see the ma&ter; but though the chimney-
sweepers have no trade societies, some of the better
class belong to sick, and others to burial, fuiidfl.
The lower class of oweepers, however, seem to have
no resource in sickness, or in their utmost need,
but the parish. There are sweepers, I am told, in
every workhouse in London.

There are three mviUs of painfiient common
among the swee|>ers : —

1, in money;

2, partly in money and partly in kind ; and

3, by perquisites.

The great nmjirity of the masters pay the men
they employ from 25. to 3t., and a few 4s. and Qs,
per week, together with their board and lodging.
It may seem that 3s. per week is a small Him,
but it iwas renarked to me that there are few
working men who, after supporting tbemselvmi,
are able to save that son weekly, while the
sweepers have many perqnisitet of one sort or

358

LOXDOX LABOUR AND THE LOSDOX POOR,

other, which sometimei bring them in \f., 2«., Zs., .
As.y and occasionally ^$. or t)«., a week additional
— a sufficient sum to pay for clothes and washing.
The journeymen, when lodged in the bouse of
the master, are single men, and if constantly em- ;
ployed might, perhaps, do well, but they are
often unemployed, especially in tbe summer, when '
there are not so imuiy Ares kept burning. As
soon as one of them gets married, or what among
them is synonymous, " tiikci up with a woman,'
which they commonly do when they are uble to
purchase some sort of a macliim*, ihey bot up fur
themselves, and thus a great number of the men
get to be masters on their own account, without
being able to employ any extra hands. These are
generally reckoned aunng the " knullcrs ;" they
do but little business at tirst, fur the nuisters long
established in a neigiibourhood, who aro known
to the people, and iiave some st«induig, are almost
always preferred to those wiio are strangers or
mere bitginnera.

It wiis very common, but perliaps more common
in country towns than in Loudon, fur the journey-
men, as well 0:1 apprentices, in this and nmuy
other tnules to live at the master's table. But the '
boaxtt and ludgin:; supplied, in lieu of nKmcy-wage^,
to the journeymen sweepers, seems to be one of
the few existing instances of suclt a practice in ,
London. Among slop-working tailors and shoe-
makers, some unfurtunaie workmen are boiirJed
and lodged by their cnrtloyer^, but tiiese em- ,
plovers are merely middlemen, who gsiin their
living by serving such masters as " do not like to '
drive their negrues themselves." But among the l
sweepers there are no middlemen. i

It id not all the jnurneymen bwci pers, however, '
who are remun«.'i:iti'il alter this mainiiT, {"r many
receive I'ls., and >onu" 11.*., and liot a ft-w J?.'.
we<-kly, beaided {)eri[uisite:i, but rcbiiie at thiir
own homes.

Ajijfi-ttftt'cshi'j' is u.iwnot atali cDinmon among
the sweepers, as ni tniiuin^' to the bn.^^ine^s is
needed. Loni Shal'tfsbury, Imwcver, in July lost,
gave notice of hU intention to bring in a bill to
prevent persons whu had n«it been duly a}>pren-
ticed to the business esublishing themselves us
sweepers.

T/c« I\rijtiut't'A <it the journeymen sweepers are
for nieasunnu', arrani-ing, and pniung the sout sold
into the purchasers' s:ickn, or caiu; tor this is
considered extni work. The jmunent of this pi*r-
quisitc seems lo be on no iixed scale, some having
l.«. for oO, and some for luo buahels. When a
chimney is on fire and a j«)urueyman sweeper is
employed to extinguish it, he receives from 1*. G(/.
to 5a according to the extent of time consumed
and the risk of being injured. '• Chance sweep-
ing," or the sweeping of a chimney not belonging
to a customer, when a journeyman luis completed
his regijlar round, ensures him '6tL in some employ-
m'.'nts, but in fewer than was once the case. Tlie
beer-money given by any cusUmier to a journey-
man is als^) his {icrquisite. Where a foreman is
kept, the '• brieze," or cinders collected from the
grate, belong to him, and the ashes belong to the
journeyman; but where there is no foreman, the

brieze and ashes belong to the joameyinan solely.
These they sell to the poor at the rmte of 6d, a
bushel. I am told by experienced men that, all
these matters considered, it may be stated that
one-half of the journeymen in London hare per-
quisites of 1a (W.. the other half of 2j. (k/. a week.
T/a XuiiiiHai H'ti^ij to the journeymen, then,
are from 12a to 18f. weekly, without board and
lodging, or from 2jr. to Gji. in money, with board
and lodging, repre>ented as equal to 7s.

The Art, id Wiwfjt arc "Is. 6</. a week more in
the fonn of perquisites, and perhaps 4t/. daily in
beer or gin.

The w<iges to the boys are mostly Is. a week,
but many masters }i:iy 1^. 6«/. to 2«., with board
and lodging. The^e boys have no perquisites,
except such bits of iiroken victuals as are given tu
them at houses where they go to sweep.

The wages of the foreman are generally ISa
per W(.>ek, but some receive 14a and some 2>il/.
without board and lodging. In one case, where
the foreman is kept by the master, only 2jt. Gil ia
money is given to him weekly. The perquisites
of tiiese men average from 4a to 5;. a week.

The I'orl' t'.i th' rAi'./(Mt../jJ«".y/nu«/ tivU tV wort
nffular than mnihi at nrg( U S'ipj»vM't. The
8wee|»ers whose circumstances enable them to em-
ploy jimrneymen !«end them on regular roimdi,
and do not engage "chance" hands. If business
is bri.sk, the men and the nuister, when a working
man himself, work Liter than ordinary, and some-
times another hand is put on and paid the cus-
tomary amount, by the week, until the brisk-
ness cea>es ; but this is a rare occurrence. There
are, however, strong lads, or journeymen out of
work, wiio are nr.fi.v/n,, »(//./ eni}»'oyed in " ItJ.f
l-i.i</," helping to cany the .-not and siicii like.

The labour of the joiirnoynien. a* regards the
[wynifut by their niasiers. i* .••uj '/../'<.#/.», but the
men are olien discharged lor drunkenness '*r f"f
ende.ivourin.; to'Morm a connection <»f their i>wr. "
among their einiM>yei>' cns^iniiKis. and now hands
are then ])Ut on. " Ciiinineys won't wail, you
know, sir," was ;iait'. to ]>ii\ *' and if I quit a hand
this we«'k. there V ai.'>tiier in his place next. If
I dischargi! a haiui for thivcr months in a sl.wk
time, I have two on v. hen it's a busy time."
Terhaps t:ie aveia:;e eniploynient of the whole
body ot' o]ieratives may he taken at nine niMiths*
Work in the year. When out of employnu'iit the
chief resource of thoe men is in ni;;h:-work;
some turn street-M'liers and bricklayers' lahoareri.
I am t"ld tliat a considerable sum of m»ney
was left fi-r the jmrp-iRC of supplying every climb-
iiigboy whi> called «>n tlie first of May at a cvri»in
place, with a shilling and some refreshniont, but I
have not been able to a^'oruiin by whom it was
left, or where it was distributed : n«nie of the
sweepers with whom I conversed knew anything
about it. I also heard, that since the p.is^ing of
the Act, the money has been invested in some
, 8; curitles or other, and is now accumulating, but
to what ]inrpose it is intended to be applied I
have no means of learning.
I Let us now enJeavour to estimate the grow
I yearly income of the operative sweepers.

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

S59

There are, then, 399 men employed ai jeoraej-
men, and of them 147 receive n w^ne/ wage
weekly from their masters, and reside with their
parents or at their own places. The remaining
252 are boarded and lodged. This board and
lodging are generally compatod, as under the
old system, to represent Ss., being li*. a day for
board and Is. a week for lodging. But, on the

iiTeng?, tfat board does not cost'the masters 7^. a
week^bat, as I akill afterwaxdi show, barely 6*.
The nten and boyi may be said to be all fully
i^mplnycd fof nine mmiittis in the yearj; some, of
course, are at work all the year through, but others
get only six months' employment in the twelve
mouths ; so that taking nine months as the average,
we have the following table of

WAGES P.\ID TO THE OPERATIVE SWEEPERS OF LONDON.

J0UR5ET3IEX.

Without hoanl and ((Hiding.
30 Journeymen employed by 3 masters, at \%t, per week

14 ,; ,, 5 „ 16*. „

6 „ „ 3 „ 16j. „

27 „ „ 8 ,. 14*. ,.

63 ,. „ 23 „ 12,.. „

' »» 11 3 „ 10*. „

147

45

^YUh hoard and hdtp.ng.
3 Journeymen employed by 1 master, at 8*. Od. per week

1
41

3
80
53
44

8

2

123

Foremen.
WithoxU board and lodging.
2 Foremen employed by 1 master, at 20x. per week
6 „ „ 4 „ 18*.

1 „ » 1 „ 16*.

2 „ „ 2 „ 14*.

5

6*. Od.

1

tf

5*. Orf.

14

4*. Od.

1

$t

3*. 6rf.

39

t>

S*.Oc/.

26

2*.6ce.

31

t*

2*.0rf.

4

ff

1*. 6rf.

1

**

1*. Orf.

11

8

With hoard and lodoiag.

* tf if

1
Boys.

}i

2s. 6d

Without hoard a;

id IfHlmntf.

2 Boys employed by

1 master, at

10*. p

WiUt hoard and lodging.

1

1

3*. Orf.

1

1

2*.6rf.

9 „

8

2*. Orf.

H

14

1*. 6rf.

80

28

1*. Orf.

1

1

('*. 9rf.

4

2

0*.Orf

per

62 54

Total earnings

Total for board, lodging, &c.

Grand Total

Money wage* for

nine months.

£ *.

rf.

1053 0

0

436 16

0

175 10

0

737 2

0

1474 4

0

136 10

0

Value of board and

Jodjiiiig for nine

months estimated at

7». a week.

4013 2

0

£ *. rf.

46 16

0

40 19 0

198 18

0

232 1 0^

9 15

0

13 13 0*

319 16

0

559 13 0

20 9

6

40 19 0

468 0

0

1092 0 0

258 7

6

723 9 0

171 12

0

600 9 8

234 0

0

109 4 0

3 18

0

27 6 0

1731

12

0

3439 13 8

week

78 0

210 12

31 4

54 12

0
0
0
0

374

8

0

4

17

6

13 13 0

week

30

0

0

Board and lo«Iging

estimated at 0*.

a week.

5

4

35

40

58

1

17
17

2
19
10

0

0
6
0
0
0
3

11 14 0

11 14 0

105 6 0

163 10 0

351 0 0

11 14 0

46 16 0

146

14

9

702 0 0

6309 14 3
4155 6 8

10,465 0 11

3G0

LOXDOy LABOUR AXD TIIK LONDOX POOR.

Thus we find that xymcntutaHtotavKragt casual
w.'ipcs of the leveral claispf nf operative chimiiey-
•wcf pers may be tnlcen at folio wi : —

Juurneymen withmit board and lodf;- s. d.
in;f, and with perquiAitea averaging 2^.
a week 12 C

Juurneymen «ith board and lodging
nud 'If. a wi'ck perquisite* . . 9 10.^

KoicnKui, wiiimut board and Kxl^ing,
at iV. 'Jf/. a wei'k pcrqui^^iteB . . 15 7

J{<>y>, with bnaril and lodging . .53

Th«' ii.ur.iil wngi's of the trade, including fiire-
ninii. J <unH-ynicn, nnd biiyn, nnd cilcnlatin*; the
juiqiiis.ii's to avrrng" 2.*. wi'ekly, will be lOjr. Qd.
a wi'ik, thi* Kinie as th»' cotton fjictory o[>eraiive!i.

Hilt if l<».riHij/, h«. thr inconio ot the opera-
tiv.'.-i. '.vli .t do the employers receive who have to
p:iy this unni f

Th«' charge for swet'pinif one of ih«' lofty
chiiiiurys in the public and otficini edifuvii. and
in the i:reat honsi*4 in tin* ari»t(K-mtic streets and
hqiianvs, id *li. (i//. and W*. (til.

Thi* uhinuieys of nindcrnte-sizi'd hoiisei are swept
nt^>. to \». Cd. r;K-!i. and th"»Bc of the p"iorer
cia^sc.H are ch.-in;* d p-nrmlly 0*/.; gome, h«»wi-ver,
are swi-pt at ."//. and itt. ; and when so.»t realized
a hitfhiT price (sunn* of tlie prifsrrit niaster sweepers
/fn- s'lld it at 1.'. a Inmhfl), the chimneys of poor
pcpHJiiai w.re swrpt by the :M»orer cIjii*.* of sweeps
nuTi'ly for the piTqiiiiiit*Mif the soot. This is sonie-
timrs don<* even n«»w, but to n very small extent,
by a .Hvvei'piT, " on his own hook." and in want
of a job, but irrniTally with an injunction to the
per -Oh wlioM! chinin<>y has been ch>aii»ed on KUch
v.i^\ tiTiiiN. I. Ml t" nu-ntiou it. a.i it " couldn't be
n:.i'!i' .1 pi;ht:i I" on."

J!*l.iii;itiiiL' th" luniibrr of hiMurj bi'lonj-'ng in
ill- w-altiiy ciau-»<'H lit >.iric;y to In" wl.Ogo, and
t::'.- • t'l 1m' jiWi'it I'iulit liuws ;i yi-.ir. aid th»'
Lii.iri:!' f.ir s\v«-r;. !ii;; to hr L'.-. «;,/. i-.uh {\mv: niid
l!;t' i.iitiibir of h-'UM'S li.-!oiiuiji^ to tho niiiMi.-
i!;i'Sf!4 t-i !»•• :>().«•<•). and imi h to In* swept lour
ti:i..-s :\ y.-ar. :i: l.v. «;./. v:iA\ time ; and thu'dweil-

»!'-•' '■: til.- I r .-umI lal.nirini; ilai.^i'* to bo swrjii

o:..- -A yrir at il /. . ;ii:li tisii '. ami ihf numb«r o|
siu-li ilwriiinL.'-i to be hi."!. mm. w.- liii-l that ih.-
t 't:ii Mill! paiil ti tlu- niu'itfr iliiiiiui'ys-.veepfr^ if
Li'i.il -ii i", iu ri-ii!iil iMtiiih.ru, s.'».I'<m»/.

'llu' siiiii obt.iiiM-<i for Son, (Mill bushcl.H of s»'ot
i";!('i-tc(l by tin* niaHtor >wi'«'pors from tlu- houses
of Li'iidon, at .'»«/. piT hushcl, is M.^iim/,

Tims tlif total annual income of the n'.n.=»ler-

S\Vi-i-p.T.H of LoiidiiM is 1(HI,(HM)/.

Uut ot" this 1 mi. Old/. p.T annum, the expiMi^'s
• ■f ;h ■ iii;;stiTS would appe.ir to l-e a.s fullows :

}''>(./., AVy,, ..-,///.',■, ,./ .'/,,• M',/.,-,<.-oj.'rs.

Sum p.iid in w;njes to 4 To joun:(»y-
I'l'M * . tlO.oi'ii

Km:, »\('., of '^',^) hou.M'i or lod-.--
i:ii;'. at TJ'. y^Miiy t'ach . . . -l.-i".!

Wiar and tear i.f Jomi niaihini-^.
1/. la.M y.Miiy .... ]ji'n)

})\IU} 2'M.i s'xks, at l.«. each vearlv lOn

Keep of 25 hones, T«. weekly each £455
\Veiir and tear of 25 caru and har-
ness. 1/. each 25

Interest on capital at 10 per cent. . 450

Tntil yearly expenditure of master-
swc' p«.'rs eniploying journeymen . £16,736

The rent here given may seem low at 121.
a year, but many of the chimney-sweepers live in
l^irlour?, with Cfllars below, in old out-of-the-way
places, at a low rental, in Stepney, Shadwell,
, Wap(ung, Bcthnal-gnvn, Iloxton, Lock's- field i,
Walworth, Newington, Islington, Somers-town,
Paddincton. &c. The better sort of master-sweep-
j ers at the \Ve!«i end often live in a mews.

The gains, then, of the master sweepers are ai
under : —

J Annual income fur cleansing chim-
neys and soot . . . . £100,000

Kx})enditnie for wages, rent, wear,
and tear, keep of horses, &c., say . 20,^00

Annual profit of master chimney-
sweepers ot' London . £80,000

I This nmount of profit, divided among 350
• nuuitern. uives about '2iiuL \tcr annum to each
J individual : it is only by a few, however, thit
■ such a Mini i* realized, as in the lOn.OOO^ paid
by the London public to the ftwee{K'n' trade, if
included the 5uni received by the men who work
single handed. " on their own hof»k," as they bt,
I employing no jonnieymen. Of these men's earn-
ing.<«, thi> accounts I heard from themselves and
j the other nm«itr'r swtepors were all nccordsDt,
, that lliey barely mad" journev men's wagi-s. They
have the very worst ]*n'\d portion of the tr.ide.
receiving; neither ftir their sweeping nor tiu-ir ioA
the price., iditaiiiid by the better n)a>tt-rd ; iiideru
ihcy \ery frii[Uinlly bell their soot to their uiok
I>ro!»peiiiu.s brethren. Their gen«Tal bratemcnt
is, th.it they make "eij,'h:eeu pence a day, and ail
toid." T:ieir rev tints then, ar.d tiny have no '
p'T<iui«ites as have tin* jonineymon, are, in a ibck
time, ali-.'iil ].<. a d;iy ur d some ilays ibiy d.» n !
g«'l a j.ib» ; but in the 'vinter they are busier, ai ■
it is then that sweepirs are employed by the pu-^r :
find jit that p'-ri. d tho •' nia»ter-nien "' uiav mals*
from If..-, to "JD.*. a w.'ik each : sit that. I am .u-
.siiiid, the aier.iKe of ilieir weekly Uikings niaj
be estimated nt \'2<. *'nf. ^ ' j

Now, d.Mliiciing the expenditure from ihe '
receipts! of JiUi.miO/. 0'or sweeping and font), lire .
balaiue. as we have seen, is SO.UMu/., an anionn: |
of profit whirli, if eipiaily divided among ine i
thre«? chisdes o| the trade, will give the following
sums:

Vtarly, each, ^■early. totil. |
PioJits of ir»0 sinijlc- .t' .«. £

handed m ister-men . . :i'2 1«> 4,y40

ho. '.»J Miiall ma-ters . *Jimi o 1S.4«'0
D-i. 1 m.; lar.;.- masters . r»nij i) i'6,*»Ji)

Ivor is this V'tiniate of the roasters' pr-'Si?. I

LONDOy LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

861

am aunred, eztrtvagaDt. One of the vnaUer
sweepen, but a prosperom man in his way, told me
thut be knew a matter aweeper who was " as
rich as Croeser, had bought hmiies, and could
not write his own name."

We have now but to estimate the amount of
capital invested in the chimney-sweepers' trade,
and then to proceed to the characteristics of the

1200 machines, 2/. 10«. each (pre-
sent average value)

8000 sacks, 2«. M, each
25 horses. 20/. each .
25 sets of harness, 21, each .
25 carts, 12/. each

£

8000

885

500

50

800

£4285

It may be thought that the sweepers will
re<[uire the ser^'ices of more than 25 horses, but I
am assured that such is not the case as regards the
soot business, for the soot is carted away from the
sweepers* premises by the &rmer or other pur-
chaser.

It would appear, then, that the &cts of the
chimney-sweepers' trade are briefly as under : —

(The gross quantity of soot collected yearly
throughout London is 800,000 bushels. The
value of this, sold as manure, at 5«/. per bushel, is
16,500/.

There are 800 to 900 people employed in the
trade, 200 of whom are masters employing jour-
neymen, 150 single-handed master-men, and 470
journeymen and under journeymen.

The annual income of the entire number of
journeymen is 10,500/. without perquisites, or
13,000/. with, which gives an average weekly
wage to the operatives of 10s. 6(/.

The annual income of the masters and leeks is,
for sweeping and soot, 100,000/.

The annual expenditure of the masters for
rent, keep of horses, wear and tear, and wages, is
20,000/.

The gross annual profit of the 350 masters
is 80,000/., which is at the rate of about 35/.
per annum to each of the single-handed men,
200/. to each of the smaller masters employing
journeymen, and 500/. to each of the larger
masters.

The capital of the trade is about 5000/. '

The price charged by the " high master
sweepers " for cleaning the flues of a house rented
at 150/. a year and upwards, is firom \t. to 8^. 6c/.
(ihe higher price being paid for sweeping those
chimneys which have a hot plate affixed). A
small master, on the other hand, will charge from
Is. to Zt. for the same kind of work, while a
single-handed man seldom gets above " a 2s. job,"
and that not very often. The charge for sweeping
the flues of a house rented at from 50/. to 150/. a
year, is from 9(/. to 2«. 6il by a large master, and
from 8(/. to 2s. by a small master, while a single-
handed man will take the job at from 6(/. to Is. Qd,
The price charged per flue for a house rented at
from 20/. a year up to 50/. a year, will average
6</. a flue, charged by largo masters. Ad, by small

masters, and from 2c(. to ScL by dw single-handed
sweepers in jsome cases; indeed, the poorest
class will sweep a flue for the soot only. But
the prices chaiged fiur sweeping chimneys differ
in the difierent parts of the metropolis. I subjoin
a list of the maximum and minimum charge for
the several districts.

Kensington and

Hamnienmith 4
Westminster .. 3

Chelftea 4

St. Oeorf^e'i,

Hanover-tq. .. S
St. Martin's and

St. Ann's 4

St.James's.West-

rainster 8

Marylf bone .... 4

Paddingtnn S

Hamprtead .... 3

St. Pancras 4

IsUn((ton 3

Hackney and

Homerton .... 3
St. GilcK's and

St. Georf^'s,

Bloomsbury .. 3

Strand 4

Hoibom 4

Clerkcnwell 3

St. Luke's 3

East London . . 3
West London . . 4

to 3 0

„ « 0

..2 6

*. 3 6

., S 6

M 2 0

.« 3

M 2

M 2

,. 1

.f I

o 1

.. 2

d. ». d.
London City . . 6 to 2 6
Shoreditch .... 3 „ 1 0
Bethnal Green.. 3 „ 1 0
Whitechapel.... 4 ,, 1 6
St. George's in

the East and

Limehouse . . . . 3 ,• 1 0

Stepney 3 „ 1 ^

Poplar 4 „ 2 0

St. George's, St.

OIave*s, and

St. Saviour's,

Southwark .... 3 „ 1

Bermondsey .. 3 ,
Walworth and
Newlngton .... 4 ,
Wandsworth .. 4 ,

Lambeth 3 ,

Camberwell 4

Clapham, Brix-
ton, and Toot-

inc 4

Rotherhithe .... 3

Greenwich 3 ,

Woolwich 3 ,

Lewlshara 6 .

0 9

1 6

N.B.— The single-handed and the knullers generally
charge a penny less than the prices above given.

There are three different kinds of soot : — the
best is produced purely from coal ; the next in
value is that which proceeds from the combustion
of vegetable refuse along with the coal, as in
cases where potato peelings, cabbage leaves, and
the like, are burnt in the fires of the poorer
classes ; while the soot produced from wood fires
is, I am told, scarcely worth carriage. Wood-
soot, however, is generally mixed with that from
coal, and sold as the superior kind.

Not only is there a difference in value in the
various kinds of soot, but there is also a vast
difference in the weight. A bushel of pure coal
soot will not weigh above four pounds ; that pro-
duced from the combustion of coal and vegetable
refuse will weigh nearly thrice as much ; while
that from wood fires is, I am assured, nearly ten
times heavier than from coal.

I have not heard that the introduction of free
trade has had any influence on the value of soot,
or in reducing the wages of the operatives. The
same wages are paid to the operatives whether
soot sells at a high or low price.

Or THE GSFERAL ChABACTERISTIOS OF THE
WORKINO CniMNET-SWEEPEBS.

TnERB are many reasons why the chimney-
sweepers have ever been a distinct and pecu-
liar chiss. They have long been looked down
upon as the lowest order of workers, and treated
with contumely by thoso who were but little
better than themselves. The peculiar nature of
their work giving them not only a filthy appear-
ance, but an offensive smell, of itself, in a manner,
prohibited them firom associating with other work-
ing men ; and the natural e&ct of such proscrip-

No. XLVII.

862

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

A TABLE SHOWINO THE NUMBER OF MASTER CHIMNEY SWEEPERS RESIDING
IN THE SEVERAL DISTRICTS OF THE METROPOLIS, THE NUMBER OF FORE
MEN, OF JOURNEYMEN, AND UNDER JOURNEYMEN EMPLOYED IN EACH
DISTRICT DURING THE YEAR, AS WELL AS THE WEEKLY WAGES OF EACH
CLASS.

BlStElOTi*.

West Districts.
Kentington and Hammer'* II
smWi.

Westminster

U

Id*

II

--l!

II

li

nthea ; 22

■ ,S7. Martins and St. An-.xi.
St. Jamcs'it. We/tmiiutter ...'

North Districts. |

Maryld'onc i 18

Faddivfjton i 10

!

i

Ifampsfi'ad ' 2

I
Islington j 9

•SV. Panaa.^ i 18

I

ITackney and Ilomerton ,

13 I

1 , 26

18

13 ' 11

St. GforgeSf Ifanovtr-fq....' 10 1 5 27

25

16 ' 15

21
17

6 I

16

10 I

13
33

1*2 1
til i

o I

II

2 25 I 16 2 r 6S5

735

670

Wngwt
of vmcYi

FOKT^IflilL,

Weekly Wagei ,
of each

Beklj Waget
each Under
Journeyman. Joumejnan.

Weekl^
of

ISi.

Ui

890 j 4 at ia<.
1 1 „ 16*.

I

415

495

60

425 !

920

14^.

18.C.

7 at 164.

, 6 „ 15*.

10 „ 14«.

1 „ 12...
5 at 18«.

10 „ 12*.
8., 4*.]
4 ., 3*. U
4 ., 2J..J
1 „ 16*.

3 „ 12*.

4 „ 10*.

3 „ 8*. 1
1 „2*.6rf U
1 ., 2*. J

5 at 18*.
3 „ 16*.

2 ,. 15,«.
9 „ \As.
7 „ 12*.

1 „ 6*. b
7 at 6*. ]

6 „ 4.,'. U

2 „ 3*. J
6 at 12*.
1 ,. 10.«.

1 at 3*. 6(/. b

10*.

3*. 6

1 at2f.6

200

2 at 2*. K

1 ., U6rf;

lat 1.* 6rf1 ;

1 „ 1*. r

1*. Od. b
3 at 2*. 1

1 .. 1.. J

1.-. CJ. h

LONDON LABOUR AND THB LONDON POOR,

863

DiSTBICTS.

; ^i. GihiM and Si. GiQr§4*t,
I Nit and..., .„„.......

Jldbom

Cl&rkenmll

Eati L<md^»t
IViii Londt^n

London Cilif

East DisTRicTi.
Sh^iditch ............

Bethn.al Green

WkUEdtapd

SL 0eo)^"l*4Wtft*-JE(«i and
LimeAotiH.

South Distmok.

Bennoadssy ...............

WaiwortA ajtd Nevinffim'
Warndsvorth,,.,...,,

Latti^dh

CamherM^li ,.,.

Ci^pt&Ht Bru^n, and \

TcoUkff ,../

RotkerhiUte ,.,„,.„„.„.,..

Ortfnwick ,.....„„...

Wooltekh...

! Ziteixham ,. ,,.».

, Mamonenr Company ...

I

TOIIL

350

I
I
H

12

399

81S

iZ5
350
485

810

175
455

205

iU

3S0
150

330
600

275
110

386
220
330
240

560

315

410

170
105
515

100
450

15350

20i,

Weekly Wftgd
of e«en UodeT

8 At 12;.
1 „ 8#. *
4i. 6

2atlSi.
3,, 8^,]
4 „ 4,. U

S at 8t.
1 ,, 2iM.

Sat if,
6

Oat
0

5r.}'

2i. ^
1 at 5s.
1 ,, 24. h
2i.h
Sat 3«. 1

7., 2*. J
Zt.h
2m. b

3 at 3*. K

3 „2^.flrf/*
3 at 8f. U

2#. Oii. ^
!^. 0<2. £

2#. 1^

U $d, b

13 at 2i. 6d.

4 ,, 1#. Gd.

2m. b

Im. h
1 at2j.

at2j.l ,

U.b

2t.b

Is. b

latl«.6c^l
2 . U. j

U. M. h

latl«.ef^l

" u

in

2atli,l
\s.b

h >

NoTB.— 6 means board and lodging ai weU as money, or part money and part kind ; e stands for everything found or
I paid all in kind.

i These returns have been collected by personal visits to each district :— the name of each master thro ughout London,
I together with the number of Foremen, Journeymen, and Under Journeymen employed, and the Wages leedved by
I each, as well as the quantity of soot collected, have been Ukewise obtamed; but the names of the masters are here
omitted for want of space, and the results alone are given.

801 LOXJJOS LAnOVlt ASD THE LOXDOX POOR.

tioii lias been to cDinprtl them to heni together ' pradually obtiinod the trntleof the iieijjlibourh'ic-d:

apart fri>ni othtTs, and to nci|ttirc Iiahits and pe- i then, aa their circumstances improved, they hd\e

culiariiifs of tht'ir «»\vn wid«;ly diftering from the ' lici-n able to pet horses and carta, and become

characteristics of the rest of the labouring j nightmen; and there are many of them at ihi*

classes. • nu»mfnt m^n of wealth, comparatively speak in?.

S«'ee{)cr8, however, have not from this cau.4o The great body of them, however, retain in all their
genemlly been an hereditiry race — that is, they ! iorce their origiiml char.ict«ri*tic8 ; the uia>ter3
havi> not becom>.> ttweepcrs from fiiiher to son tor ! theniseUua, although »hrcwd and sensible nn-n,
many geiienilionji. Tlu'ir numbers were, in the .■ often b<*tniy their want of education, and are in no
d lys of the cliuihinu b>y<%. in ninst iutancrs in- j way particular as t» their expressions, their Ian-
creased by parish apppntices, the pari-^hfs Usually ' guage being n»ade up, in a great mcasurt*, of the
adopting that mod" as th-.* cheapest and easiest t'-rnis pe.iiliar to the casterniongers, cspcci.illy the
of freeing themselves from a {»ari of the burden denominations of the various sorts of money. I
of i:ivonile pauperism. The climbing h»y.s, but nu't with s<»nie aweepers, howe>*cr. whose language
m »ri' e.spoc'ally iheunforiunHt** J»;l^i^h apjirenlices, was tliat in ordinary use, and their manners not
w«*re almost always cruelly usrd, st;irvi'd. beaten, vul^Mr. I niiuht specify one. who, alihon.;h a
and o\ IT- Worked by their nmsters, an<I treated as workluiuse orphan and apprentice, a hariihly-
outcastii by all with whom tliey c:une in con- . treated cliuiliing-boy, i< now prospering as a
tart: there can be no wonder, then, that. drivi'U s\vei']ier and nightman, i>( a rei!ul.ir altei:dant at
in this nuiitner from all other society, they u'.adiy all meetings to jiromote the gntid oi thl^ poor, and
availed them^'lves of the compnnioii:»hip ot their a zealous ragged -school t>*achc'r, and leetoialliT.
fL'llow-<.uderers; "iuickly imbibi-d all their habits \S'hen such men are met with, ]>erhap9 the class
and peculiarities ; and, |H>rhap.<<. ended by becoming cannot be looked upon as utterly ca-st away.
them>elves the mosrt tyr.innical masters to tiio.te although the need of refonnation in the habii? uf
who might happen to be placed un<lerth«"ir change. | the workiu'T sweepers is extn'me, and eipt-cially

NoiwithsUind'jigthediMeputein whuhswet'per* ' in respect of drink nig. ^'anibiing, and dirt. The

have ever been held, there are many tlas-es of journe\men (who luive often a gjiod urai of

workers benesith thini in intellij'enee. All the | leisure) and the bingle-handed men are— in the

trilf of fnider.> anl c-illectors (with ti.e exception | great majority <if cases at least addicte<i to drink-

of th»" dredgi-rnn n, who are an tfb.servanl rate, mg, beer being their f.ivuurite b^verajLH*, eitiier

and th'.' sewer- hunters, >\ho, finm the diing«'r of i bei-;iuse it is the cheapest or that they fancy it the

their emphiyment, are co!ujH*lh*d to exi'rci.M' their mo>t (suitable for wasliing away the ^OMty partiiles

inlell«*ct>) are far inferior to them in tliis n-fpi-ct; which fnid their way to their throats. Tl-ese

and they are cl:.'ver fellows emipared i" many t»f nn*n gamble al.»io, but with this i>rovi.*o -they

thi' tluAtnien and wav.uier*. The ;.Me.it mass of ^eMom pl.iy for money: but when they meet in

the ai:r.« ullural l.iboui-rrs are kn iwn to hi" ;i!nii:.vt tl:t ir U'f'ial Innibes of resort-two fanv'ii'* um < ate

a"" i^n-ir.mt as tii- iM-a^t.^ l.ny «lrive : 1-ut the in l^aek (' - lane and S «-lpet. \VI;:ti>

^w•l•epel>. tio.'ii whatever i.ir.r-i* ii i-.i.iy .■.ri'e, an' iha|'«»I- tln-y >{nnd their linn* and v.-i..t ii.o:.ey

kn iwn, ill many instancr.-*, t«» be .•.iin-\v»l. mt'-Ili- they ii:ay Imm' in t'««.>inj; lor beer, ti.l tli" y are

gi-ijt. ami at tive. either tlrunk nr prnnile.M. Smh \*\> n j-i;-

Hut tin-re is much Dnni I'-r inij-r'Ai'iMint anjoii:j ^eit tii-.- api'earanre o| haxing just come out of

t'le i:-j.iMalive < jjimnry >\\erp.M>. Sprak ji:- i>! tin; a cliiniiiey. Tli»-re teen»s ui-vt-r t«» lia\i.' 1-. ■%■:: .*:\y

in«M: i:."nerall\,Ianja.'isured liial th'T.' ifM-anely one attiiupt male by them t'> wa-li tin* «.-ii.i <itV ih»-ir

out ••{ t'Mi w!i" rin eilhiT read or wiite, nii,»iiiaii m fives. I am iiitMruied that the-e i> ?caK.'ly one

Che'.se;! ii.rciniii-tl lue ihit s iM r l.i l"..". ill e-iii.ii.- tl theiu wiio i.a> a M I'M.ii ^isirt or any e; .» !,::•• -it

ti 111 with the Iie\, Mr. (' i hn.'.na elinnli. i...ii!e (•'•••tin's, an-! liiat thi-y \vi':»r tinir i:ar'iu-:i:> ii ^'ht

an aileaijit t.» in.xtnii-t liie .v4\<m |..'r. «•: tii- i:«i;;li ai; I «;.t\ t.li tln-y literally rot. and lir-.i h\ Trij-

li!)!Hhi»i:d in naiiiai: ai.d writiiii:; l>n; tire iisa^tor UH-ntJi li'-ni iVn-ir l-acKS Tii'-se wIioit"* -i .t i-in-

h\\f.-].,-r^ i:r.-v.- j.-a'.'tiH. ai.ii h. en.i a'r i:-". l.-.-l {in ir pl-.yed a> ; rair.«-ynn'!'. by t!:-.- ;.:.i!.r- • f ir->

men ."^lionlii jet I.. I hiii.v.i::/ i-r il.'-i"i. V« ii. i. t !■• ijiieiitly nhole da}S v.itri'-i.t f:i il. .•:|i- .. i il'v :ri

line' r.iM.r. tl:ei-! Te. t'-.j' t:i-' i-.-M J- ]■:■ i-.ir- f r >iiiiraii-r. wiji-i' t ".e W'lk K '•Ink : n -. i'. i.-"a'\-

lh»" M.IiOil. tiie niivter.-* alwaxs n..i'i ii;i li t-i {Ml lia|'ji«'ii> t;i;u thnsi- \vh i -.re wiia: is • :: I-l

out soil!!' j .b whit !i pre-.i-i.t.'ii i"' ■ II. t!";ii a'tCM:.!-: "• In.- kii-;; a -loit ..n tlu-ir f.vi: ai*t ■ t.-:t " ., :i:.-:i

at th" ap.Hi-.iiifd tiin--. .ii.d tii. . .i:^.i|i«-ii.:.- v. i.* or ne^-r hav.- a fartiii'-.j in th.ir p:'rk<.-'^ in th-:

that tie- li :n-'V.)Ient «:es;i:n.s oi" in.- Jiiui-.'S v..-m- ni'>rani-', aini n^a_\ . i-erlia]-*. l;i\e t> ir. ;•...•! t .'.

Jrustrited. eveiiiiiM 1 , J ,;•,. t|;,.y i;<'t ;«. tlir«'ep»'niiy or .-:x'--i.'iy

Tin: suee|>ers. as a chiss, in a!ni »>t all tiirir cliiinn"y to }.\\f. p. When ni^ht conies, ni d tht-y

habits, Ih-ar a fctmii;; n-senililaiice to the ti»>tfr- ' iiiei-l tinir coiir.t.mions. th«* to.^vin^ and lirii.kii.::

moii:;i'rs. Thi- liabil of g.iin;: ah-'iit in b'-rireh ■ a^'ain niniiiienc-»'s; they n^*!«in ^et drunk ; roll h--:::-

of their em|»li«yment lias, of it-e!l. inip'anted to wln-rever it nny be, to go thrMUjiii tiie iMi-."

in many of ihein tiie wandering propensity ]»ecn- ■ routine on the morrow ; and this i* ihi- ii?iial

liar to street people. .Many o! the )»et:er class teiionr of til -ir l.\es. whether earning o-v. or l.'"-. a

costerni )np:ers liave ri.^en into eoal-shed men and week.

green jroeerw, and beromi- settleil in life; in like The chimney -swcH'pers generally are f.-nd *>i

manner th.* Inttirclas.i sweepers have ri>en to b.- driiik ; indeed their callin;:. like that of diisl::!e:i.

maatei?. and, becoming s. it'.ed in a l-ciiiiy, lia\e is one ot those which mr.ura'ily lead to it. Tt:^

I

LONDON LABOUR AND TBM LONDON POOR,

865

men declare they are ordered to drink gin and
smoke as much ae they can, in order to rid the
stomach of the soot they may hare swallowed dui^
ing their work.

Wcahing among chimney-sweepers seems to
be much more frequent than it was. In the evi-
dence before Parliament it was stated that some
of the climbing-boys were washed once in six
months, some once a week, some once in two
or three months. I do not find it anywhere
stated that any of these children were nerer
washed at all ; but from the tenotir of the evi-
dence it may be reasonably concluded that such
was the case.

A master sweeper, who was in the habit of
bathing at the Marylebone baths once and some-
times twice a week, auured me that, although
many now eat and drink and sleep sooty, wash-
ing is more common among his class than when he
himself was a climbing-boy. He used then to be
stripped, and compelled to step into a tub, and
into water sometimes too hot and sometimes too
cold, while his mistress, to use his own word,
Kourtd him. Judging from what he had seen
and heard, my informant was satisfied that, from
80 to 40 years ago, climbing^boys, with a very
few exceptions, were but seldom washed ; and
then it was looked upon by them as a most dis-
agreeable operation, often, indeed, as a species of
punishment. Some of the climbing-boys used to
be taken by their masters to bathe in the Ser-
pentine many years ago ; but one boy was un-
fortunately drowned, so that the children could
hardly be coerced to go into the water afterwards.

The washing among the chimney-sweepers of
the present day, when there are scarcely any
climbing-boys, is so much an individual matter
that it is not possible to speak with any great
degree of certainty on the subject, but that it
increases max* be concluded from the fiict that the
number of sweeps who resort to the public baths
increases.

The first public biiths and washhouses opened
in London were in the " north-west district," and
situated in George-street, Euston-sqiuire, near the
£Utmpstead-road. Ttiis establishment was founded
by voluntary contribution in 184(J, and is now
self-snpporting.

There are three more public baths : one in
Qoulston-street, Whitechapel (on the same prin-
ciple as that first established) ; another in St.
Martin's, near the National Crallery, which arc
parochial ; and the last in Marylebone, near the
Yorkshire Stingo tavern. New-road, also paro-
chial. The charge for a cold bath, each being
secluded from the others, is 1<^., with the use of a
towel ; a warm bath is 2(2. in the third class.
The following is the return of the number of
bathers at the north-west district baths, the esta-
blishment most frequented : —

I endeavoured to ascertain the proportion of
swaepers, with other working men, who availed
tkemselvet of these baths ; but there are unfor-
tunately no data for instituting a comparison as
to the reUtive cleanliness of the several trades.
When the baths were first opened an endeavour
was made to obtain such a return ; but it was
found to be distasteful to the bathers, and so was
discontinued. We find, then, that in four years
there have been 406,051 bathers. The following
gives the proportion between the sexes, a portion
of 1846 being included : —

Bathers—Males .
„ Females .

Total bathers .

417,424
47,114

404,538

Bathers

Washers, Dryers,

IroncTS, Ac

Individuali Washed

for

1»47.

1B48. I 1849. ! 1890.

1\{),\W> lllJKS: \M.Tifi H6.597
39,4IbI B\,9BHi 65,934 73.033
137,672! 246.76u| 863,736 292,092

The fiilling off in the number of bathers at this
establishment is, I am told, attributable to the
opening of new baths, the people, of course, re-
sorting to the nearest

I have given the return of washers, &c., as I
endeavoured to ascertain the proportion of wash-
ing by the chimney-sweeper's wives ; but there is
no specification of the trades of the persons using
this branch of the establishment any more than
there is of those frequenting the baths, and for
the same reason as prevented its being done
among the bathers. One of the attendants at
these washhouses told me that he had no doubt
the sweepers' wives did vrash there, for he had
more than once seen a sweeper waiting to cany
home the clothes his wife had cleansed. As no
questions concerning their situation in lite nre
asked of the poor women who resort to these
very excellent institutions (for such they appear
to be on a cursory ghince) of conrse no data can be
supplied. This is to be somewhat regretted ; but
a regard to the feelings, and in some respecu to
the small prejudices, of the industrious poor is to
be commended rather than otherwise, and the
managers of these baths certainly seem to have
manifested such a regard.

I am informed, however, by the secretary of
the north-west district institution, that in some
weeks of the summer 80 chimney-sweepers bathed
there ; always having, he believed, warm baths,
which are more effective in removing soot or dirt
from the skin than cold. Summer, it uiust be
remembered, is the sweep's " brisk " season. In
a winter week as fexv as 25 or 20 have bathed,
but the weekly average of sweeper-bathers, the
year through, is about 50; and the number of
sweeper-bathers, he thought, had increased since
the opening of the baths about 10 per cent,
yearly. As in 1850 the average number of
bathers of all classes did not exceed 1646 per
week, the proportion of sweepers, 50, is high.
The number of female bathers is about one-ninth,
so that the males would be about 1 480 ; and the
50 sweepers a week constitute about a thirtieth
part of the whole of the third-class bathers. The
number of sweep-bathers was known because a
sweep is known by his appearance.

I was told by the secretary that the sweepers,
the majority bathing on Saturday nighto, usually

\

ZOG

LOXDOX LABOUR A^D THE LONDON POOH

carried a bundle to tbe bath ; this contained their
''clean thingi." After bathing they assumed
their "Sunday clothes;" and from tho change
in their appearance between ingress and egress,
they were hardly recognisable as the some indi-
viduals.

In the other baths, where also there is no
specification of the bathers, I am told, that of
sweepers bathing the number (on computation) is
30 at Marylcbone, 25 at Guulston-street, and 15
(at the least) at St. Martin's, as a weekly average.
In all, 120 sweepers bathe weekly, or about a
seventh of the entire working body. The in-
crease at the three baths last mentioned, in
sweepers bathing, is from 5 to 10 per cent.

Among the lower-class sweepers there are but
few who wash themselves even once throughout
the year. They eat, drink, and sleep in the samo
state of filth and dirt as when engaged in their
daily avocation. Others, however, among the
better class are more cleanly in their habits, and
wash tbeuiselves every night.

Between t/ie Oj^jjcaranct of the swajar^ in the
streets at the present time and before the aboli-
tion of the system of climbing there is a marked
ditfi'rence. Charles Lamb said (in 1823) : —

" I like to meet a sweep — understand me, not
a grown sweeper — old chimney-sweepers are by
no menns attractive — but one of those tender
novices blooming through their first nigritude,
the maternal wnshings not quite ei&ced from the
cheek — such ns come forth with the dawn, or
somewhat earlier, with their little professional
notes sounding like the jn':/) pup of a young
sparrow : or liker to the nintin lark should I
pruiionnce thnii, in tliuir aerial asfccnts not seldom
anticipating the sunrise '."

Tiirouglmut his essay, Eiia throws the halo of
pocrlry over tliu child-sweepers, calling them " dim
spcLks," "poor blots," "innocent blacknesses,"
*'y<:iin;^ Africans of our own growth;" tho
natural kindliness of the writer shines out through
all. lie counsels his reader to give the young
innocent 2d., or, if the weather were starving,
" let the demand on thy humanity rise to a
tejiter"' (Of/.).

Tho appearance of the little children-sweepers,
as they trotted along at the master's or tlie journey-
man's heels, or waited at ** rich men's doors" on a
old morninir, was pitiable in the extreme. If it
snowcjl, there was a strange contrast between
the black sootincss of the sweeper's dress and the
white flakes of snow which adhered to it. The
boy sweeper trotted listlessly along; a sack to
contain the soot thrown over his shoulder, or
disposed round his neck, like n cape or shawl.
Hue master sweeper tells me that in his appren-
ticeship days he had to wait at the great man-
sions in and about Grosvenorsquare, on some
bitter wintry mornings, until he felt as if his feet,
although he had both stockings and shoes- and
many young climbers were bareloot — felt as if
frozen to the lavemont. When the door was
opened, he told me, the matter was not really
mended. The rooms were often large and cold..

and being lighted only with a candle or two, no
doubt looked ver}' dreary, while there was not a
fire in the whole house, and no one up bat a
yawning servant or two, often very cross at
having been disturbed. The servants, however,
in noblemen's houses, he also told me, were
frequently kind to him, giving him bread and
butter, and sometimei bread and jam ; and as his
master generally bad a glass of raw spirit handed
to him, the boy usually had a sip when his
employer had *' knocked off his glass." His
employer, indeed, sometimes said, " 0, fw. 's better
without it; it'll only lam him to drink, like it
did me ; " but the servant usually answered, " 0,
here, just a thimblefull for him."

The usual dress of the climbing-boy — as I have
learned from those who had worn it themselves,
and, when nmsters, had provided it for their
boys — was made of a sort of strong flannel, which
many yeiirs ago was called chimney-sweepers'
cloth ; but my informant was not certain whether
this was a common name for it or not, he only
remembered having heard it called so. He re- ,
niembered, also, accompanying his master to do .
something to the flues in a church, then (1817) ■
hwig with black cloth, as a part of the nations] '
mourning for the Princess Charlotte of Walei, '
and he thought it seemed very like the chimney-
sweepers' cloth, which was dark coloured wbea '
new. The child-sweep wore a pair of cbth ■
trowsers, and over that n sort of tunic, or tight .
fitting shirt with sleeves; sometimes a little '
waistcoat and jacket This, it must be bonie in I
mind, was only the practice among the best
masters (who always had to find their apprentices
in clothes) ; and was the practice among them
more and more in the later |H-.riod of the climbing
process, fur householders began to inquire as to
what sort of trim the boys employed on their
])remises appeared in. The poorer or the le»i
well -dip posed masters clad the urchins vho
Llinibcd for them in any old rags which their
wives could piece together, or in any luw-priced
gannent "picked up'' in such places as Kosemarr-
lane. The tit was no object at all. These ill-clad
lads were, moreover, at one time the great nwjnritr.
The clothes were usually made ** at home" by the
women, and in the same style, as regarded the
seams, iSic, as the sacks for snot ; but some:tm«i
the work was beyond the art of the sweeper's
wife, and then the aid of some poor neighbour
better skilled in the use of her scissors and needle,
or of 8t»me poor tailor, was called in. on the well-
known terms of ** a shilling (or Is. Cd.) a day, and
the grub."

The cost of a climbing-boy's dress, I was iii*
formed, varied, when new, according to the mate-
rial of which it was made, from 3^. 6c/. to 0.<. C*i.
inde])endently of the cost of making, which, in
the hands of a tailor who '* whipped the cat' («
went out to work at his customer's houses), would
occupy a day, at easy labour, at a cost of Is. M.
(or les-s) in money, and the '* whip cat's " weal*,
perhaps another l.«. C(/., beer included. As to
the cost of a sweeper's second-hand clothing it is
useless to inquire ; but I was informed by a nov

LONDON LABOUR AND THB LONDON POOR,

367

thriTing master, that whenjhe was about twelre
jean old his mistress bought him a " werrj tidy
Jacket, as seemed made for a gen'Ieman's sod,'* in
Petticoat-lane, one Sunday morning, for Is. 6d. ;
while other things, he said, were ''in propor-
tionate." Shoes and stockings are not included in
the cost of the little sweeper's apparel ; and they
were, perhaps, always bought second-hand. A
few of the best roasters (or of those wishing to
stand best in their customers* regards), who sent
their boys to church or to Sunday schools, had
then a non-working attire for them; either a
sweeper's dress of jacket and trowsers, unsoiled
by soot, or the ordinary dress of a poor lad.

The street appearance of the present race of
sweepers, airadults, may every here and there bear
out Charles Lamb's dictum, that grown sweepers
arc by no means attractive. Some of them are
broad-shouldered* and strongly-built men, who,
as they traverse the streets, sometimes look as
grim as they are dingy. The cbiraney-scavager
carries the implement of his calling propped on
his shoulder, in the way shown in the daguerreo-
type which I have given. His dress is usually a
jacket, waistcoat, and trowsers of dark-coloured
corduroy ; or instead of a jacket a waistcoat
with sleeves. Over this when'at work the sweeper
often, wears a sort of blouse or short smock-frock
of coarse strong calico or canvas, which protects
the corduroy suit from the soot. In this descrip-
tion of the sweeper's garb I can but speak of those
whose means enable them to attain the comfort of
warm apparel in the winter; the poorer part of
the trade often shiver shirtless under a blouse
which half covers a pair of threadbare trowsers.
The cost of the corduroy suit I have mentioned
varies, I was told by a sweeper, who put it
tersely enough, *' from 205. slop, to 40*. siap."
The average runs, I believe, from 28*. to 83*., as
regards the better class of the sweepers.

The diet of the Journey/men srt'-pers and the
apprentices, and sometimes of their working em-
ployer, was described to me as generally after the
following fashion. My informant, a journeyman,
calculated what his food *' stood his master," as
he had once " kept hisself."

Daily.
*. d.

Bread and butter and coffee for break-
Cut 0 2

A saveloy and potatoes, or cabbage ;
or a *' £sgot," with the same vegetables ; or
fried fish (but not often) ; or pudding,
from a pudding- shop ; or soup (a twopenny
plate) from a cheap eating-house; average
from 2d.toZd 0 2^

Tea, same as breakfast .02

0 6^
On Sundays the fare was better. "They then
sometimes had a bit of " prime fat mutton" taken
to the oven, with " taturs to bake along with it;"
or a " fry of liver, if the old 'oraan was in a good
hnmoor," and always a pint of beer apiece.
Hence, as some give their men beer, the average
amount of 5*. or 6*. weekly, which I have given

as the 'cost of the " board " to the masters, is
made up. The drunken single-handed master-
men, I am told, live on beer and " a bite of any-
thing they can get" I believe there are few
complaints of inefficient food.

The food provided by the large or high master
sweepers is generally of the same kind as the
master and his family partake of; among this
class the journeymen are tolerably well provided
for.

In the lower-class sweepers, however, the food is
not so plentiful nor so good in kind as that pro-
vided by the high master sweepers. The expense
of keeping a man employed by a large master
sometimes ranges as high as 8*. a week, but the
average, I am told, is about 6*. per week ; while
those employed by the low-class sweepers average
about 5*. a week. The cost of their lodging may
be taken at from 1*. to 2*. a week extra.

The sweepers in general are, I am assured, fond
of oleaginous food ; fat broth, fagots, and what is
often called " greasy" meat

They are considered a short-livd people, and
among the joumcymeh, the'masters ** on their own
hook," &c., few old men are to be met with. In
one of the reports of the Board of Health, out
of 4312 deaths among males, of the age of 15
and upwards, the mortality among the sweepers,
masters and men, was 0, or one in 109 of the
whole trade. As the calculation was formed,
however, from data supplied by the census
of 1841, and on the Post Office Directory,
it supplies no reliable information, as I shall
show when I come to treat of the nightmen.
Many of these men still suffer, I am told, from
the chimney-sweeper's cancer, which is said to
arise mainly from uncleanly habits. Some
sweepers assure me that they have vomited balls
of soot.

As to the ahodes oj the master sire^'pevf, I can
supply the following account of two. The soot,
I should observe, is seldom kept long, rarely a
month, on the premises of a sweeper, and is in the
best "concerns" kept in cellars.

The localities in which many of the sweepers
reside are the "lowest" places in the district.
Many of the houses in which I found the lower
class of sweepers were in a ruinous and filthy con-
dition. The ** high-class" sweepers, on the other
hand, live in respectable localities, often having
back premises sufticiently large to stow away their
soot

I had occasion to visit the house of one of the
persons from whom I obtained much information.
He is a master in a small way, a sensible man,
and was one of the few who are teetotallers. His
habitation, though small — ^being a low house only
one story high — was substantially furnished with
massive mahogany chairs, table, chests of drawers,
&c., while on each side of the fire-place, which
was distinctly visible from the street over a hall
door, were two buffets, with ghiss doors, well
filled with glass and china vessels. It was a wet
night, and a fire burned brightly in the itoye, by
the light of which might be seen the master of
the establishment sitting on one tide, «b.vl« ^St^

\

363

LOXlPOX LMiOUR AND THE LOyi)OX POOIL

wife nnd dniiqhtor ricciijiifd the other: a iicijshbour
s.it Wfore tho tiiv with hiw buck to ihc door, niid
.'ilto^flhcr it struck mo ns a mnirirtahU'-Innking
cvfiiiiia i>;irty. They were restint; and chatting
iiuii'tly togt'tlicr afirr tho hilmur of the day, and
f very thing lietokr>nod the c«imfortable circum-
fttancfj in wliicli tlie man. by Mtbricty and in-
liustry, had been able to place himself. Yet tiiia
man had been a climbing-boy, and one of the
iinfiirtuiiate:» who had lo.xt his fiarentfl when a
child, and was apprentice.l by the parish to this
bu»ine8s. From linn I learned that his was not
a solitaiy instance of fetottili^m (I luive be-
fore spoken of another) : that, in fact, there
were some more, and one in |iarticular, named
lirown, wlio was a geod i.peaker, and devoted
himself dnring his Ifisure iioiirs at nijtht in
advocating the prinnples which by experience he
had found to elTect such iricat pood to himself;
but he also informed me that tlie majority of the
others iverc a dninkeii and dit.<tipated crew, sunk
to the lowest degrit> of mivory, yet recklessly
spending every farthing they could earn in the
public-house.

DilTerent in every resjH'ct was another house
which I visited in the course of my inquiries, in
the neighbourhood of H — street, ]3ethnal-grceu.
The house \va:f rented by a sw<-e)ier, a master on
his own account, and every room in the place was let
to sweepers and their wive.n or wonjen, which, with
these men, often Mgnify one and the same thing.
The inside of the house looked as dark as a coal-
pit ; then' was an insullerable smell of sout,
always olVensive to those unaccustomed to it;
jiii'l every person and every thing which met
t!n' eye, even to the CiipH and powns of tlie Wi»-
iJieii. seemed as if they hail just been 8teep<'d in
Indian ink. In one room wn>% a sweep and his
woman iiuarroliiiig. As I opened the door I

iMugiit the words, '*! "ni d d if I lias it any

Jonaer. I 'd see you b y well d d fmst,

and you knows it." The sav.ig- wa^ into.vicattrd,
for his red eyfs H'»*hed through his sooty mask
with dnniken e\cit'fm''nt, and his matted hair,
which looked as if it h:id never known a comb,
stood out friim Ills head like tlie whnlebnne ribs
of his own maiiiine. " li — y Hot." as he
calleil her, did not ►e:'m a wliit more sober than
her man ; and the y'lir'.ll treble of h-r voice
was distinctly audible till I turned the corner
of the street, whither I was accimipanied by
the nia&ter of the hou-e. to whom I had been re-
rummended by one of the fraternity as :in intel-
liirent man. and one who knew *■ a thing or two."
*' You see," he said, as we turned the corner,
'• there isn't no use\i talkin' to them ere fellows —
th'.'v 're all tosticated ni»w, and they doeim't care
nothirjk for nobody ; but they 'Jl be quiet enouph
tomorrow, 'cept they yarns somethink, and if they
do ih'Mi they 'II be just as bad to-morrow night.
They re a awful lot, and nobody ill niver do
any think with them." Q'his m:in was not by any
mean* iu such easy clrcumst.mces as the ma*ter first
mentioned. He was merely a man working for
himself, and unable to employ any one else in the
biifinci^s; as is customary with some of these

people, he had talien tlie liouso be bad shows
me to let to lodgers of his own class, making
something by so doing ; though, if his own ac-
count be correct, I 'ni at a loss to imagine how
he contrived e>en to get his rent. From him I
obUiined the following statement : —

*' Yes, I was a climbing-boy, and sarred a rigler
])rinticeship for seven years. I was out on raj
printiceship when I was fourteen. Father was a
silk-weaver, nnd did all he knew to keep me from
being a sweep, but I would be a sweep, and
nothink else." [This is not so very uncommon a
predilection, strange as it may seem.] *' So iisther,
when he saw it was no use, got me bound prixi-
tice. Father's alive now, and near 90 yean of
age. I don't know why I wished to be a swee|>,
o'pt it was this — there was sweeps always lived
about here, nnd 1 used to see the boys with lots
of money a tossin' and gamblin', and wished to
have money too. You see they got money where
they swept the chimneys; they used to get 2(/. «r
3'^ for theirselvcs in a day, and sometimes 6d.
from the })eople of the house, and tliat's the
way they always liad plenty of money. I niver
thought anythink of the climbing ; it wasn't ss
Itad at all as some ]x^opIe would make you belieTs^
Tiiere are two or three Wtiys of climbing. la
wide flues you climb with your elbows and you
legs spread out, your feet pressing against the
sides of the Ibie ; but in narrow dues, such ii
i nine-inch ones, you must slant it : you must hats
i your sides in the angles, it 's wider there, and go
\ up just that way." [Here he threw himself init
I position ]iln€iiig one arm close to his side, with
the palm of the hand turned outwards, as if
j pressing the side of the flue, and extending the
I other arm hi^h above his head, the hand appa-
rently pressing in the same manner.] *' There."
I he continued, 'that's slantin'. Y'ou just pot
yourself in that way, and see how small yon
make yourself. I niver got to say stuck myself^
I but a many of theni did ; yes. and were taken
; out dea-l. They were smothered for want of air,
and thi' fright, and a st^iyin' so long in the flue;
yon MM" the waistband of their tnnvscrs sometiniet
, gilt turned down in the climbing, nnd in narrow
flues, when not able to get it up, then they stuck.
I hud a bi)y imce — we were called to sweep a
chimney down at Pojdar. When we went in he
looked up the flues. ' \Yeil, what is it like V I
said. ' Very narrow,' says he, ' don't think I
I can get up there ;' so after some time we gels on
. top of the h')use. and takes ofl the chimney-pot,
i and has a look down — it was wider a' top, and I
I thought as hi>w he could go down. * You had
I b'-tter buff it. .Min,' says I. I suppose yon know
j what that means ; but Jim wouldn't do it, nnd
I kept his trowsers on. So down he goes, and
gets on very well till he comes to the shouM-'r of
the flu ', and then he couldn't stir. He shou'4
, down. M 'm stuck.' I shouts up and tells hia
what to do. * Can't move,' says he, * I'm stuck
: hard and f;ist.' Well, the people of the house g«l
fretted like, but I says to them, • Now my boj'l
: stuck, but for Ucaven's sake don*t make a word
I of noise; don't &:iy a word, good or bad, nnd I'll

LONDON LABOUR AND TUB LONDON FOOR.

369

see what I can do.' So I locki the doer, and
buflfi it, and forces mjself up till I could reach
hi:Q with my hand, and as soon as he got his
foot on my hand he begins to prise himself up, and
gets looeened, and comes out at the top again.
I was stuck myself, bat I was stronger nor he,
and I manages to get out again. Now I '11 be
bound to say if there wai another master there
as would kick up a row and a-worrited, that ece
boy 'ud a niver coma out o' that ere iue alive.
There was a many o' them lost their Ut«» in that
way. Most all the printices used to come from the
' House' (workhouse.) There was nobody to care
for them, and some masters used them very bad. I
was out of my time at fourteen, and began to get
too stout to go up the fluea; so after knoclua'
about for a year or so, aa I oould do nothiak else,
I goes to sea on board a man-o'-war, and waa
away four year. Many of the boys, when they
got too big and useless, used to go to sea- in them,
days — they couldn't do nothink else. Yes, many
of them went for aodgers; and I know some
who went for Qipsitft, and others who went for
play-aotors, and a many who got on to be iwellr
mobsmen, and thieres, and boosebreakert, and.
the like o' that ere. There ain't nothink ^ that
sort apgoin' on now since the Ack of Parliament
When I got back from sea father asked me to
Lim his business; so I takes to the silk- weaving
and huned it, and then married a weaveiesB, and
worked with fiither for a long time. Father waa
very weil off— well off and comfortable for a
poor man— but trade was good then. But ii got
bad afterwards, and none on ua waa able to live
at it ; so I takes to tke chimney-sweeping again.
A man might manage to li-tm iomehaw at the
sweeping, but the wesunng wot a no mm. It
waa the furrin silks as beat us all up, that 'a the
vrhole truth. Yet they tells us as how they waa
a-doia* the country good ; but they may tell that
to the marinas — the sailors won't believe it — ^not
a word on it I 've stuck to the sweeping ever
since, and sometimes done very £ur at it ; but
ainca the Ack there 's so many leeks come to it
■ that I don't know how they live — they must be
eatin' one another up.

"Well, since you ask then, I can toll you thai
our people doo't care much about hiw; they
don't understand anythink about politics much ;
they don't mind things o' that ere kiud. They
only Bioda to get drunk when they can.
Some on them feUows as you seed in there
niver eleans theirselves from one year's end to
the other.. They '11 kick up a row soon enongh,
with Chartiato or anybody else. I thinks them
Ghartiats are a weak-minded set;, they was
too much a frightened at nothink, — a hundred o'
them would run away from one blue-coat, and
that wasn't like men. I waa often at Chartist
meetings, and if they'd only do all they said
there was a planty to stick to tl^m, for there's a
somethink wants to be done very bad, lor every-
think is a-getiin' worser and worser every day.
I used to do a good trade» but now I don't yam a
shilling a day all through the year (1). I may walk
at this time three or lour miles and not get a

chimney to sweep, and. then get only a sixpence
or threepence, and sometimes nothink. It's a
starvin', that's what it it; there's so much
' querying ' argoin' on. Quer}'ing 1 that 's what
we calls under- working*.. If they'd all fix a
riglar price we might do very well still I 'm
50 years of age, or thereabouts. I don't know
much about the story of Mrs. Montague; it was
afore my time. I heard of it though. I heard my
mother talk about it ; she used to read it out of
books; she was a great reader — none on 'em
could stand afore her for that. I was- often at the
dinner — the mastora' dinner — that was for the
boya; hut that's all done away long ago, since
the Ack of Parliament I can't toll how many
there was at it, but there 's such a lot it 's impos-
sible to teU. How could any one toll all the
sweeps as is in London 1 I 'm siurc I can't, and
I 'm sure nobody else can."

Some years back the sweepera' houses were
often indicated by an eUbomto sigp, highly
coloured. A sweeper, accompanied by a " chum-
my" (once » common name for the climbing-
boy, being a corruption of chimney), was de-
picted on his way to a red brick house, from
the chimneys of which bright yellow flames were
streaming. Below was the detail of the things
undertaken by the sweep, such as the ex-
tinction of fires in chimneys, the cleaning of
smoke-jacks, &c., ice. A few of these signs,
greatly £ided, may be seen still. A sweeper, who
is settled in what is aocounted a " genteel neish-
bourhood," haa now another way of making his
calling known. He leaves a card whenever he
hears of a new comer, a tope being attached, so
that it can be hnng^ up in the kitehen, and thus
the servants are always in possession of his
address. The following is a customary style : —

" Chimneys swept by the improved machine,
much patronized by the Humane Society.

" W. H., Chimney Sweeper and Nightman,.

1, Mews, in returning thanks to the inha-

bitanto of the surrounding neighbourhood for the
patronage he has hitherto received, begs to in-
form them that he sweeps all kinds of chimneys
and flues in the best manner.

" W. H., attending to the business himself,
cleans smoke-jacks, cures smoky coppers, and ex-
tinguishes chimneys when on fire, with the
greatest care and safety ; and, by giving the
strictest personal attendance to business, performs
what he undertakes with cleanliness aikd punc-
tuality, whereby he hopes to ensure a continuance
of their favours and recommendations.

"Clean cloths for upper apartments. Soot-
doon to any size fixed.. Observe the address,
1, Mews^ near ."

At the top of this card is an engraving of the
madiine ; at the firat a rude sketeh of a night-
man's cart, with men at work. All the cards I
saw reiterated the address, so that no mistake
might lead the customer to a rival tradesman.

Ae to their folitia, the sweepers are somewhat

* Querying means literally inquiring or sskJng for
mtk at the dilftrent houses. The " querisn** among
the sireeps are a kiadof pedlar opeiatims.

\

LOShOS LABOUR AXD TEE LOSDOy POOR.

ftimilar to the dustman and coitenoonger*. A
r.z'id hitrf^ to all conttituted authority, which
tii«-y apj^ar f) regard aa th^ police and the " beaks,"
s<^i'inA ift he tiie sum Uiial of their princip^ii.
Inde'rd, it almoBt aMumei the character of a tized
Uw, that p<:rfton9 aud classes of ptTfoni who are
thfin5'.-lvi.'s disorderly, and to a certain ezu-iit
lawle^ii, always iiiunifest the moit aupreme dn- i
I'.'i/ijit f'.r the comM-rvaiora of law and order in
* viTy 'i-jre«*. Thf police are ther^-fore hated ,
h>-:ir'.iiy, magiitnt^'H are feared and abominated,
ai.'i '^ij*ff:i. Lords, and Coiomons, and every one
in authority, if known anything about, are con-
i«ifl>T"d a4 iiHturai enemit:8. A c-jsUrrmnnger who
\i'.i\i\fji\:.\ to be present while I was making in-
oiiiri«'.-i on this subji.-ct, ljruk<- in with this remark,
*• Th'; ccj«teri is the chaps thi* government can't
d'l n'-Lhink with them — they stilus hcks the gurem-
mi-n*. ' The sweepers have a sovereign cunti.mpt
ffir.-ili Acts of J'arliament. liecause the only Act that :
iiu'l a!iy refrrcncc to themselves " threw njMMj," as '•
thi-y call it. their business to all who were nerdy \
enough and who had the ia;*itb!lity of availing
ih>iiii<i'lvi'3 uf it. Like the " du.sties" they aie. ■
I am infurroid, in their prop<T ek-nient in times ■
iii riit and confusion ; but, unlike them, they are,
ti a uia.i, (-hartists, understanding it too, and ;
.ijiprovingof it, not hwauiie it would be ciilculated ;
t'» oMtal/hsIi a new order of things, but in the :
lio^r* that, iti the transiliun from one ^ystirm to ,
t'ri- iither, then' mJKht be plenty of nuiseund rioi, \
anii ill the va:.>ue iilca that in some indefnLible j
luaiiner goi)d iiiusl neeesMirily n<:criie to them- <
"•(•i.fs fruni atiy change that might t.ike place, i
ThiH I bi;li»'\i' 1.1 Im" 111 p'Tfiit kiv'ping with iho '
.i'-i::iiiiiiif.s 'if siiiiilar cla;*'-fs 'if jienplo in every
r.iiiiitry ill thi! woil 1,

T.'H! I'lunii-ynu-n l.iy by n«» m-mey whf-n in '
Airk, as a Uv.mI to kf-rp tliiini whrm incnpacitated
Iv «ickin->-, ;i'.cidciil, (»r old a-jp. Thore are, i
ii.-acvrr, a ti'.\ fx-rptious t'» the ufMu-ral inipro- !
viili-iK'e of tluT ( !a»:) ; Monie few belong to bick and I
hi-tic-lit .-.■icii-tic*. (ithiTs are mcinbcrj* of burial '
t-IiiliH. WluTf, however, this is not the ca.xe. and ;
a "wri'p.T bi'Lonies unabh', tiironu'ii illness, t<» con- j
tiniie his work, tin* modi' usually adopted is to ■
niaki' a ratll(> for the benefit of the suiferer ; i
tin* sann' nh'auj* an* retorted to at the death of a '
ni'-nibrr of the trade. Whrn a chimney-swerper '
brionii-s intirni through age, he has mostly, it not I
invariably, no refuge but the workhouse. I

7'A. rhi),>ui if-ifir.'ifici's ijtneralhf ore rtyniullcin^
tij the ma> lufjc rtrcnion>/. and when they do
IIm' with a woman it is in a state of concubinnire.
These women are always amonp tin* lowest of the
Ntroct-girls such as lucifer-niatch and orange girls,
honu" of thi' very poorrst of the coster girls, and
1,'irls brought up amon^' the sweepers. They '
are treated badly by thi>m, and often enough lett !
without any rcniorM*. Tlie wonitm are equally as !
i-arrlcss in thcso matters as the men, and exchange i
0111' paramour for another with the Simie levity,
so thai there is a promiscuous intercourse con-
tinually going on among them. I am informed
that, among the worst class of sweepers living I
with women, not one in 50 is married. To these •'

couples Ter}' few cbildren are bom ; but I am not
able to state the proportion as compared with
other classes.

Th'.r* aff «o»i« cnriohu cvsfoms anoa^ i^ji
/.O't'/on t^fiptn which deserve notice. Their May-
day festival is among the belt known. The most
intelligent of the masters tft-ll me that they
have taken this ** from the milkmen's garland " (of
which an engraving has been given). Formerly, say
they, on the first of May the milkmen of London
went through the streets, performing a sort of
dance, for which they received gratuities from
their customers. The music to which they
danced was simpiy brass plates mounted on poles,
from the circumference of Which plates depended
numerous bells of different tones, according to
size ; these poles were adorned with leaves and
flowers, indicative of the season, and may have
been a relic of one of the ancient pageants or
mummeries.

The sweepers, however, by adapting themselvei
more to the nide taste of the people, ^PP^v to
have completely supplanted the milkmen, who arc
now never seen in pageantry. In Stmtl's " Sports
and Tiistimes of the People of England," I find
the following with reference to the milk-people: —

" It is at this time," that is in May, nys the
author of one of the papers in the Sptctaior, " ve
sec brisk young wenches in the country parishes
dancing round the Maypole. It is likewise on
the first day of this month that we see the mddy
milkmaid exerting herself in a most iprigfatlr
manner under a pyramid of silver tankards, and,
like the Virgin Tarpt»ia, oppreftsed by the costly
ornaments which her benefactors lay upon her.
The*e decorations of silver cups, tankards, and
salver-i, wi-re l)orrowed for the purpose, and hung
round the niilk-pails, with the iiddition of flowers
and rii)andy, which the maidens carried upon their
heads when iln-y went to the houses of their cus-
tomers, an>l danced in order to obtain a small
gratuity from each of them. In a set of prints,
called * Tempest's Cries of London,' there is one
called iho ' Merry Milkmaid,' whose proper name
\\i\A Kate Smith. She is dancing with the milk-
pail, decorated ns above mentioned, upon her
head. Of late ycirs the plate, with the otiw
decorations, were phiced in a pyramidical form,
and carried by two chairmen upon a wooden
horse. The maidens walked before it, and per-
formed the dance without any incumbrance. I
really cannot discover what nnab^y the silver
tankards and salvers can have to the business of
the milkmaids. I have seen them act with much
more propriety upon this occasion, when, in place
nf these superfluous ornaments, they substituted a
cow. The animal had her horns gilt, and wiu
nearly covered with ribands of various colours
formed into bows and roses, and interspersed with
green oaken leaves and bunches of flowers."

With reference to the May-day festival of the
sweepers the same author says : — *' The chimney-
sweepers of Lond(m have also singled out the
iirst of May for their festival, at which time they
parade the striM^ts in comjvanies, disguised in
various manners. Their dresses are usually deco-

THE RAT-CATCHERS OF THE SEWERS.

IFivm a Daguerreotype by Dkaro.1

I

i ( '

LONDOS LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR,

371

rated with giU psper toA other meek fineries;
they haTe their thoreto and bmshes in their
bands, which they rattle one upon the other ; and
to this rough mu«ic they jamp about in imitation
of daneing. Some of the lai^ger companies have
a fiddler with them, and a Jack in the Green, as
well as a Lord and Lady of the May, who follow
the minstrel with great stateliness, and dance as
occasion reqairesv The Jack in the Oreen is a
piece of pageantry consisting of a hollow fnune of
wood or wicker-work, made in the form of a
8ugar-loaf, but open at the bottom, and snfHdeBtly
large and high to rscdre a man. The frame is
covered with green learea and bunches of flowers,
interwoven with each other, so that the man
within may be completely concealed, who dances
with bis companions; and the populace are
mightily pleased with the oddity of the moving
pyramid."

Smce the date of the above^ the sweepers
have greatly improved on their pageant^ substi-
tuting for the fiddle the more noisy and appro-
priate music of the stree^show^lan's drum and
pipes, and adding to their party several diminu-
tive imps, no doubt as representatives of the
climbing-boys, clothed in caps, jackets, and
trowsers, thickly covered with party-coloured
shreds. These still make a show of rattling
their shovels and bmshes, but the clatter is un-
heard alongside the thunders of the drum. In
this manner they go through the various streets
for three days, obtaining money at various places,
and on the third night hold a foast at one of
thmr fiivourite public-houset, where all the sooty
tribes resort, and, in company with their wives or
girls, keep up their festivity till th« next morning.
I find that this festival is beginning to disappear
in many paru of London, but it still holds its
grosind, and is as highly enjoyed as ever, in all the
eastern localities of the metropolis.

It is but seldom that 'any of the large masters
go out on May-day ; this custom is generally con-
fined to the little masters and their men. The
time usually spent on these occasions is four
days, during which as much as from 3A to Al a
day is collected ; the sums obtained on the three
first days are divided according to the several
kinds of work performed. But the proceeds of the
fourth day are devoted to a supper. The average
gains of the several pei-formers on these occasions
are as follows : —

My lady, who acts as Columbine,
and receives . . 2s. per day.

My lord, who is often the master
himself, but usually one of the
journeymen . . . 8#. „

Clown 8j. „

Drummer 4s. „

Jack in the green, who is often an
individual acquaintance, and
does not belonff to the trade . 8s. „

And the boys, who have no term
term applied to them, receive
from . . . Is. to Is. M. „

The shaie accruing to the boys is often spent

in purchasing some article of clothing for them,
but the money got by the other individuab is
mostly spent in drink.

The sweepers, however, not only go out on
May-day, but likewise on the 5th of November.
On the last Gny-Fawkes day, I am informed,
some of them received not only pence from the
public, but silver and gold. "It was quite a
harvest," they say. One of this clisi, who got
up a gigantic Guy Fawkes and figure of the
Pope on the 5th of November, 1850, cleared, I am
informed, 10/. over and above all expenses.

For many years, also, the sweepers were in the
habit of partaking of a public dinner on the 1st
j of May, provided for every climbing*boy who
thought proper to attend, at the expense of the
Hob. Mrs. Montign. The romantic origin of
this custom, firom all I could learu on the subject,
is this : — The lady referred to, at the time a
widow, lost her son, then a boy of tender years.
Inqniriea were set on foot, and all London heard
of the mysterious disappearance of the child, but
no clue could be found to trace him out. It was
supposed that he was kidnapped, asd the search
at length was given up in despair. A long time
afterwards a sweeper was employed to cleanse the
chimneys of Mrs. Montagu's house, by Portman-
square, and for this purpose, as was usual at the
time, sent a climbing-boy up the chimney, who
from that moment was lost to him. The child
did not return the way he went up, but it is sup-
posed that in his descent he got into a wrong flue,
and found himself, on getting out of the chimney,
in one of the bedrooms. Wearied with his labour,
it is said that he mechanically crept between the
sheets, all black and sooty as he was. In this state
he was found fast asleep by the housekeeper. The
delicacy of his features and the soft tones of his
voice interested the woman. She acquainted the
family with the strange circumstance, and, when
introduced to them witli a clean foce, his voice and
appearance reminded them of their lost child. It
may have been that the hardships he endured at
so early an age had impaired his memory, fur he
could give no account of himself; but it was
evident, from his manners and from the ease
which he exhibited, that he was no stranger to
•uch places, and at length, it is said, the Hon.
Mrs. Montagu recognised in him her long-lost
son. The identity, it was understood, was proved
beyond doubt. He was restored to his rank in
society, and in order the better to commemorate
this singular restoration, and the foct of his
having been a climbing-boy, his mother annually
provided an entertainment on the 1st of May, at
White Conduit House, for all the climbing^boys
of London who thought proper to partake of it.
This annual foast was kept up daring the lifetime
of the lady, and, as might be expected, waa
numerously attended, for since there were no ques-
tion asked and no document required to prove any
of the guests to be climbing-boys, very many of
the precociotis urchins of the metropolis used to
blacken their foees for this speoal occasion.
This annual foast eontiinied, as I have said, as
long as the lady lived. Her aon «Qn^vcGM&. Sx

LOXDOX LABOUR AND THE LOXDOX POOR.

only for throe or four ycari afterwards, and then,
I am told, left the country, and paid no farther
attention to the matter.

Of the story of the younif Montagu, Charles
Lamb has uiven the followins^ account: —

" In one of the state-beds at Arundel Castle,
a few years since — under a ducal canopy (that
scat of the Howards is an object of curiosity to
visitors, chiefly for its bods, in which the late
duke Wiis especially a connoisseur) -encircled
with curtaiiM of delicatcst crimson, with Rtarry
coronets interwoven — folded between a pair of
sheets whit<-r and softer than the lap where Venus
liille.l Ai^canius — was discovered by chance, after
all Hit.'thods of search had failed, at noun-day,
fast asleep, a lost chimney-sweeper. The little
creiiture having somehow confounded his passa'^e
ainonpr the intricacies of those lordly chimneyji,
by some unknown aperture had alighted upon
this magnificent chamber, and, tin.>d with his
tedious explorations, was unable to resist the
delicious invitement to repose, which he there saw
exhibited : so, creepin&f between tiic sh:»et8 very
quietly, he laid his black head on the pillow and
slept like a young Howard." . ..." A high
instinct," a-lds Lanih, " was at work in the case,
or I am greatly mistaken. Is it prolmhle that a
poor child of that description, with whatever
Wv'ariness he might be visited, would have ven-
tured under such a i>ennlty as he would be taught
to e.Kpei-t, to uncover the sheets of a duke*:* bed,
and deliberately to lay himself down between
them, wlien the rug or the c.irpet presented an
obviiiu? couch still far above his prfiensions 1 — is
this jirolKibli*. 1 w«Mil.l a?k, if the great power of
n.iliire. which I Ci'ntt-r.d fi»r. iia-i nut been niani-
f.'«.ted within him, pMiniitiiiir !■> liie advo!it:ir«? '
l>iiubtle.H.s, tiiis young n«)bliMnan (f->r su.-li my
mind mijigiv.** me he iini«t b.M w;is allured by
some] ni'inory not amouniintf t'» lull eoiiscions-
nefi.s i;!" his condition in infancy. wIk-.i lie was
M^t.'d to ho lapt by hi^ inotii'»r or iiis nurs'.- in
ja>t fcUi-h ."hi-ei-, a.^i h;* ih-re fuind. into which he
v.'as how hut creeiiinu bailc as into his prupfr
incubation {i,-r'ii,„l>il i) and re.^tin-,' place. By
no othiM- theory th;iii i»y his p.MJtinieiit of a pr>
rxistent static (as I may call it) can 1 oxpjain a
<le<'d SI \pnturous,"

Tlii're IS a stroi:Q: strain of r-imanc^ throu2]i«M:t
thf sto.'-ie? of the lost and found young Mnntaeu.
1 conversed with some sweepers on the ji'.ibject. Tiie
majority had not st much a^ hear. I of the occur-
rence, hut two who had heard tif it — botli climb-
ing-boys in their childhood— had heard that the
little ieliuw was found in his mother's houiie. In
a small work, the " Chimney- Sweepers' Friend, "
got lip in aid of the Society f'»r the Supersedence
of ('iimbing Hoys, by some benevolent Quiki^r
ladies and uthers (the (Quakers having been
v.mon-^ till' warmest supporters of the suppression
of dinibcr.H), and •'ar^ani^*d " (the word "edited"
not b"ing usedi by J. Montgomery, the c;ise of
th«' little Montagu is not mentioned, excepting in
two or three v.igui- poetical allusions.

The account given by Lamb (although pro-
noun red ajiocryphal by some) appears to" be the

more probable version ; and to the minds of many
is shown to be conclusively authentic, as I under-
stand that, when Arundel Castle is shown to
visitors, the bed in which the child was foond ii
pointed out ; nor is it likely that in such a place
the story of the ducal bed and the little climbing-
boy would be invtnUd.

The following account was given by the wife
of a respectable man (now a middle-aged woman^
and she had often heard it from her mother, who
passed a long life in the neighbourhood of Mrs.
Montagu's residence : —

" Lady M. had a son of tender years, who was
supposed to have been stolen for the Kike of his
clothes. Some time after, there was an occasion
when the sweeps were necessary at Montagu
House. A servant noticed one of the boys, being
at first attracted by his superior manner, and her
curiosity being excited fancied a resemblance in
him to the lost child. She questioned his master
respecting him, who represented that he had found
him crying and without a home, and thereapon
tonk him in. and brought liim up to iiis trade.
The boy was questioned apart from his master, as
to the treatment he received; his answers were
favourable ; and the consequence was, a compena-
tion was given to the man, and the boy was re-
tained. All doubt was removed as to his identity."

The annual feast at " White Condick,** 'so
agreeable to the black fraternity, was afterwards
continued in another form, and was the origin
of a well-known society among the master
sweepiTS, which continued in exi>tcnce till the
abolition of the climbing* boys by Act of Parlia-
ment. The masters and the better class of m^n
paid a ciMta in sum yearly, for the purpose of binding
the childn-n of the contributors to other trades. In
urdiT lo increase the funds of this institution, as
till' dinner to the boys at White Conduit Hou«e
was an established thing, the masters continued it.
and the buys of I'very master who beloni^ed to
the .S'M'iety wi-nt in a sort of ^tate to the usual
place of entertainment every Ist of M.iy. where
they wer»' regaled as fomierly. Many persons
were in tho habit of llocking on this dav U
White <\):iduit House to witness the festivities of
the sweep-Til on this orcasion, and u?iliI1v contri-
buted ^oalething towards the societv. As
soon, hijwever. as the Act passed, this also wis
disciintinuird. and it is now one of the leci^adi
connected with the class.

SWEKI'IXU UK THE CiriMXj;Y> OK StEAM-VeSjIELj.

Tnr. sweeping of the Hues in the boilers of steam-
boats, in the Port of London, and also of lind
boiler.f in manufactories, is altogether a distinct
process, a-j the machine cannot be used until such
time as the parties who are engaged iu this busi-
ness tnivtd a long way through the flues, .v.d
reach the lower part of the chimney or funnel
where it communicates with the boilers and re-
ceives the smoke iu its passage to the upper air.
The buiiers in the Large sea-going steamers arc
of curious construction; in some large steamers
there are four separate boilers with three furnace

LONDON LABOUR AND THB LONDON POOR.

873

in] each, the flues of each boiler unitiDg in one
beneath the fiinnel ; immediately beyond the end
of the furnace, which is marked by a little wall
constructed of firebrick to prevent the coaU and
fire from running off the 'firebars, there is a large
open space very high and wide, and which space
after a month's steaming is generally filled up with
soot, somewhat resembling a snow drift collected
in a hollow, were it not for its colour and the
faxX that it is sometimes in a state of isnition ; it
is, at times, so deep, that a man sinks to his middle
in it the moment he steps across the firebridge.
Above his head, and immediately oTer the end of
the furnace, he may perceive an opening in what
otherwise would appear to be.a solid mass of iron;
up to this opening, which resembles a doorway,
the sweeper must clamber the best way he can,
and when he succeeds in this he finds himself in a
narrow passage completely dark, but with so strong
a current of air rushing through it from the fur-
naces beneath towards the funnel overhead that it
is with difficulty the wick lamp which he carries
in his hand can be kept burning. This passage,
between the .iron walls on either side, is lofty
enough for a tall man to stand upright in, but
does not seem at first of any great extent; as he
goes on, however, to what appears the end, he
finds out his mistake, by coming to a sharp turn
which conducts him back again towards the open
space in the centre of the boiler, but which is now
hid from him by the hollow iron walls which on
eyery side surround him, and within which the
waters boil and seethe as the living flames issuing
firom the furnaces rush and roar through these
winding passages; another sharp turn leads back
to the front of the boilers, and so on for seven or
eight turns, backwards and forwards, like the
windings in a maze, till at the last turn a light
suddenly breaks upon him, and, looking up, he
perceives the hollow tube of the funnel, black and
ramed with the adhering soot.

Here, then, the labour of the sweeper com-
mences : he is armed with a brush and shovel, and
laying down his lamp in a space firom which he
has preyiously shovelled away the soot, which in
many parts of the passage is knee deep, he
brushes down the soot firom the sides and roof
of the passage, which being done he 'shovels it
before him into the next winding; this process he
repeats till he reaches, by degrees, the openmg
where he ascended. Whenever the accumulation of
soot is so great that it is likely to block up the
passage in the progress of his work, he wades
through and shovels as much as he thinks neces-
sary out of the opening into the large space behind
the furnaces, then resumes his work, brushing and
shovelling by turns, till the flues are cleared ; when
this is accomplished, he descends, and the fire
bars being previously removed, he shovels the soot,
nbw all collected together, over the firebridge and
into the ashpit of the furnace; other persons stand
ready in the stoke-hole armed with long iron rakes,
with which they drag out the soot from the ash-
pits ; and others shovel it into sacks, which they
make fiut to tackle secured to the upper deck, by
which they "bowse" it up out of the engine-room.

and either discharge it overboard or put it into boats
preparatory to being taken ashore. In this man-
ner an immense quantity of soot is removed firom
the boilers of a large foreign-going steamer when
she gets into port, after a month or six weeks*
steaming, having burned in that time perhaps 700
or 800 tons of coal : this work is always performed
by the stokers and coal-trimmers in the foreign
ports, who seldom, if ever, get anything extra
for it, although it is no uncommon thing for some
of them to be ill for a week after it.

In the port of London, however, the sweeper
comes into requisition, who, besides going through
the process already described, brings his machine
with him, and is thus enabled to cleanse the
funnel, and to increase the quantity of soot. Some
of the master sweepers, who have the cleansing of
the steam-boats in the river, and the sweeping of
boiler flues are obliged to employ a good many men,
and make a great deal of money by their busi-
ness. The use of anthracite coals, however, and
some modem improvements, by which air at a
certain temperature is admitted to certain parts of
the furnace, have in many instances greatly les-
sened, if they have not altogether prevented, the
accumulation of soot, by the prevention of smoke;
and it seems quite possible, fixim the statements
made by many eminent scientific and practical
men who were examined before a select committee
of the House of Commons, presided over by
Mr. Mackinnon, in 1843, that by havbg properly-
constructed stoves, and a sufiicient quantity of
pure air properly admitted, not only less fuel might
be burned, and produce a greater amount of heat,
but soot would cease to accumulate, so that the
necessity for sweepers would be no longer felt,
and there would be no fear of fires firom the igni-
tion of soot in the flues of chimneys; blacks and
smoke, moreover, would take their departure toge-
ther; and with them the celebrated London fog
might also, iu a great measure, disappear. .

The funnels of steamers are generally swept at
from 8(2. to 1«. 6c{. per funnel. The Chelsea
steamers are swept by Mr. Allbrook, of Chelsea ;
the Continental, by Mr. Hawsey, of Bosemary-
lane ; and the Irish and Scotch steamers, by Mr.
Tuff, who resides in the East London district

Of the "Ramoheub" Compasy.

TuE Patent Eamoneur Company demands, perhaps,
a special notice. It was formed between four and
five years ago, and has now four stations : one
in Little Harcourt-street, Bryanstone-square ; an-
other in New-road, Sloane-street ; a third in
Charles-place, Euston-square ; and the fourth in
William-street, Portland- town.

"This Company has been formed,'' the ptro-
spectus stated, "for the purpose of cleansing
chimneys with the Patent Bamoneur Machine,
and introducing various other improvements in
the business of chimney sweeping. Chimneys are
daily swept with this machine where others have
fiuled."

The Company charge the usual prices, and all

374

LOyDOir LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

the men employed hare been brought up ai
swec|»eri. The patent machine is thus de-
■cribed : —

*'*The Patent Ramoneur Machine eontists of
four bmshei, forming a square head, which, bj
means of elastic springs, contracts or expands,
according to the space it moves in; the rods
attached to this h«id or brush are supplied at
intervals with a universal spring-joint, capable of
turning even a right angle, and the whole is sur-
mouiitrd with a double revolving ball, having also
a universal spring'joint, which leads the brush
with certainty into every corner, cleansing its
route most perfectly."

The recommendation held ont to the public is,
that the patented chimney-machine sweeps cle.iner
than that in g(*neral uw, and for the reasons
assigned ; and that, being constructed with more
and better springs, it is cipable of "turning even
a right angle," which the common machine often
leaves unswept. This was and is commonly
said of the difference between the cleansing of the
chimney by a ciimbing-boy and that elfected by
the prc-sent mechanicai appliances in general use
— the boy was " better round a corner."

The p.it'>nt nmchines now worked in London
are hfieen in number, and fifteen men ana thus
emplnyed. Each man receives as a weekly wage,
always in money, 14s., besides a suit of clothes
yearly. The suit consists of a jacket, waistcoat,
and trousers, of dark-coloured corduroy ; also a
*•' frock ■' or blouse, to we.ir when at work, and a
cap : tiie whole being worth from Zb», to 40jf.
This payment is about eiiuivalont to that re>
cfiveil wi-ekly by the jiniriieyniHii in the re^jiilar
or hminurablo trii«ie ; f«ir alth-niizh hiiiher in
nominal am »iuit as a weekly pMuuncratiini, tl)e
Kamitnenr i»p-r.itives art? not jiIIowimI any pfr-
quitiilea wha^•v(»^. The rosidont or nianncrtT at
eacii stiition is also a working chinnn*y-»wi'op<*r
fi)r thf C'lunimny. and at thi* sanw.- rale at the
othersi. his advjintJije hi.'ing that ho livoii reiit-frco.
At one Ftiiti«»ii which I visited, the resident had
two comfortable- looking u]>-9tair*'-rooni8 (thi*
siaiioni In-inir all in hmall fitret't««i, whrre In- and
his wif«' livt'd : while the "relhir.'' whicli was
indeed hut the ^nmnd tloor, althoui;)i homewhat
lower than llie d-i-^r-*!!';!. wa:* devoti-d to ll^^ine<»^
pnijiONi's. till' si: «t lii'inji .<torr-d llu;re. It w.is
h lai.lf'l ot: inlii »i-jiarate conipartnient-i. oni* hi-ini;
ai t!i<' tiioi' <|iiii:' liili ••! soul. All M-enn-il as
clean and t-nh'riy a-. jiii**ilile. The i.-nt oi timse
two rf.'>;u.<, nnlurni'^hi'd. would not he lej«s than
■to. »r ."i*. a wj-ek, s-» that I lie resid-Mit'.-* jnynient
may le put at abiut ;'>«''. a year. Tlie patent-
mac hi n<? operatives sweep, on an aveni«;i', the same
nunilwr of chi'nni*ys each, as a nia>ter chimney-
f>v.eeper'> men in a good way of businosi in the
ordinary trade.

Or Tin; l^iir^iic and Slack .Skasoxs. axu the
Casual Traiik amo.mj the Chim.vky-

SWKKI'EK.'!;.

As among the ruSbish-carter-i in the unskilled,
and the tailors aud shoemakers of the skilled

trades, the sweepen* trade also baa itf sUcknea
and ita briskness, and from the laiiie cause— 4l»
difference in the seojoiu. The leaaons affecting
the sweepers' trade are, however, the nofvm/
seasons of the year, the recurring inmmer and
winter, while the leatons influencing the emplof-
ment of West-end tailors are the mrbiirarif seasoni
of fiuhion.

The chimney-sweepers* hri*k seMon is in the
winter, and especially at what may be in the
respective households the periods of the resom^
tion and discontinuance of sittinar-room fires.

The sweepers* seasons of briskness aud slack-
ness, indeed, may be said then to be ruled by the
thermometer, for the temperature causes the in-
crease or diminution of the number of fires, and
consequently of the production of soot. The
thermometrica) period for fiivs appears to be from
October to the following April, both inclusive
(seven months), for during that season the tem-
perature is below 50 ^ I have seen it stated, aod
1 believe it is merely a statement of a Uxx, that
at one time, and even now in some houses, it wsi
customary enough for what were called "great
families " to have a fixed day (general I j Michael-
mas-day, Sept. 29) on which to commence fires is
the sitting-rooms, and another stated day (oftsi
May-day, May 1) on which to discontinue them,
no matter what might be th^t mean temperatars,
whether too warm for the enjoyment of a tire, sr
too cold comfortably to dispense with it. Soow
wealthy iH^rnons now, I am told — such as call
thems'dves ''economists," while their servnnti and
dependants apply the epithet "mean" — defer fins
until the tem|H*mture descends tn 4*2^ or fron
Noveml>;*r to March, both inclusive, a season of
only live months.

As this question of the rang>.' of the ther-
ronnieter evidently intinences the jiea^uns, ar<d
therefore, thecasu.il labour of the sweepers. I will
give the ftdlowini* interesting account of the
changing temperature of the ni-?tropolis, month by
month, the information h.*inir derived fiom the
ohstTvntions of ii5 years (lJ?05 to l,s8(h, by
Mr. Luk«.« Howard. The average temporatuiv
appears to Iw : —

De^ri-os.

Dc^TCrt.

Januarv .

. yfi-l

Jnlv

. 631

Fehruarv .

. 38-9

Anirn^t

. 57-1

Mareh

. 4-20

September

. r>o-i

April

. 47-5

< >ctober

. 42-4

Mav

. r)4-!»

November .

. 411»

June

. 5y«j

December .

. 3.S-3

London, I may further state, is 2] de^rrees
warmer than the country, especially in wi7it»'r.
owinc to the shelter of buildintjs and the nuilli-
pliciiy of the tires in the houses and factories. Ic
the summer the metropolis is about 1 \ degree
hotter than the country, owing to want of tVee
air in London, and to a cause little thought about
— the reverberations from narrow streets. In
spring and autumn, however, the temperature of
both town and country is nearly equal.

In London, moreover, the nights are 11*3
degrees colder than the days : in the country they

LONnOK LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOIL

875

an 15*4 degrees edder. The extreme nmges- if
the tenpenUnn in the day, in the capitil, are from
30** to 90\ The thermometer ha* fallen below
sero in the night time, bnC not frequently.

In London the hotteH monthi are 28 degrees
warmer than the coldest; the tempentnre of
July, which is the hottest month, being 63'1 ;
and that of January, the coldest month, 85'1
degrees.

The month in which there are the gioatest
namber of extremes of heat and cold is January.
In February and December there are (genenlly
speaking) only two such extreme Tariationi, and i
fiTe iu July; through the other months, how-
ever, the extremes are mora difiused, and there are
only two spring and two autumn months (April
and June— September and November), which are
not exposed to great differences of temperature.

The mean temperature assumes a rate of in-
creasy in the different months, which may be
represented by a curre neariy equal and parallel
with one representing the progress of the sun in
declination.

Hoar-frosts occur when the thermometer is
about 89^ and the dense yellow fogs, so peculiar
to London, are the most frequent in the months of
Horember, December, and January, whilst the
temperature ranges below 40°.

The busy season in the chimney-sweepen' trade
commences at the beginning of November, and
continues up to the month of May ; during the
remainder of the year the trade is "slack.*'
When the slack season has set in nearly 100 men
■re thrown out of employment These, as well as
many of the single-handed masters, resort to other
kinds of employment Some turn costermongers,
othen tinken, knifegrinden, &c, and others
migrate to the country and get a job at hay-
nwcing, or any other kind of unskilled labour.
Eren during the brisk season there are upwards
of 60 men out of employment ; some of these
occasionally contrive to g«t a machine of their
own, and go about " knulling,"— getting a job
where they can.

Many of the master sweepen employ in the
summer months only two journeymen, whereas
they require three in' the winter months; but this,
I am informed, is not the general average, and that
it will be more correct to compute it for the whole
trade, in the proportion of two and a half to two.
We may, then, calculate that one-fourth of the
entire trade is displaced during the slack season.

This, then, may be taken as the extent of casual
kbour, with all the sufferings it entails upon im-
provident, and even upon careful working-men.

A youth casually employed as a sweeper gave
the following account : — *' I jobs for the sweeps
sometimes, sir, as I'd job for anybody else, and if
yen have any herrands to go, and will send me,
1 11 be unkimmon thankful I haven't no father
and don't remember one, and mother might do
wril but for the ruin (gin). I calls it ' ruin ' out
of spite. No, I don't care for it m3rBell I like
beer ten to a ferthing to it " She 's a ironer,
•ir, a stunning good one, but I don't like to
talk about her, for she might yarn a hatful of

browns — 3«. M. a day ; and when she has puUed
up for a month or more it's stunning is the
difference. I 'd rather not be asked more about
that Her great foolt against me is as I won't
settle. I was one time put to a woman's shoe-
maker as worked for a ware'us. He was a
rehition, and I was to go prentice if it suited.
But I couldn't stand his confining irays, and I 'm
sartain sura tiiat he only vranted me for some tin
mother said she 'd spring if all was square. He
was bad off, and we liv^ bad, but he always pre-
tended he was going to be stunning busy. So I
hooked it 1 'd other places — a pot-boy's was
one, but no go. None suited.

" Well, I can keep myself now by jobbing,
leastways 1 can partly, for I have a crib in a
comer of mother's room, and my rent 's nothing,
and when she 's all right /'m all right, and she
gets better as I grows bigger, I think. Well, I
don't know what I 'd like to be ; something like
a bwip-lighter, I think. Well, I look out for
sweep jolM among others, and get them sometimes.
I don't know how often. Sometimes three morn-
ings a week for one week ; then none for a month.
Can any one live by jobbing that way for the
sweeps? No, sir, nor get a quarter of a living;
but it 's a help. I know some very tidy sweeps
now. I 'm sure I don't know what they are in
the way of trade. 0, yes, now you ask that, I
think they 're masten. I've had 6(2. and half-ft-
pint of beer for a morning's work, jobbing like.
I carry soot for them, and I 'm lent a sort of
jacket, or a wrap about me, to keep it off my
clothes — though a Jew wouldn't sometimes look
at 'em — and there's worser people nor sweeps.
Sometimes 111 get only 2<i. or 8<l. a day for
helping that way, a canying soot I don't know
nothing about weights or bushels, but I know I've
found it heavy.

" The way, you see, sir, is this hero : I meets a
sweep as knows me by sight, and he says^ ' Come
along, Tom 's not at work, and I want you. I
have to go it harder, so you carry the soot to our
place to save my time, and join me again at No.
89.' That's just the ticket of it Well, no; I
wouldn't mind being a sweep for myself with my
own machine ; but I 'd rather be a lamp-lighter.
How many help sweeps as I do 1 I can't at all
say. No, I don't' know whether it's 10, or 20,
or 100, or 1000. I 'm no scholard, sir, that's one
thing. But it 's very seldom such as me 's wanted
by them. I can't tell what I get for jobbing for
sweeps in a year. I can't guess at it, but it 's
not so much, I think, as from other kinds of job-
bing. Tes, sir, I haven't no doubt that the t'othen
as jobs for sweeps is in the same way as me. I
think I may do as much as any of 'em that
way, quite as much."

Of thb "Lwks" amok« th» Chiunky-
swbbpebs.

Thb Leth are men who have not been brought
up to the trade of chimney sweeping, but have
adopted it as a speeoktion, and are so called from
their entering green, or inexperieneed, into the

370

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

biislncsa. There nre I lind ns many as 200 leeks
altogether uniong the master chimney-sweepers of
the metropoliu. of the "high masters" tlie
greater portion are lei^ks- no less than i)*J out of
lUO. 1 was informed that one of this chiss -wns
formerly a solicitor, otiiers had been ladiett' shoe-
makers, and others master liuilders and brick-
layers. Among the lower-clai'S sweepers who
have taken to this trad<-, there are dustmen,
scavag-rs, bricklayrri* labourers, soMiers. costt-r-
mongers, tinkers, and various other unskilled
labouHTs.

The Ireks are reparded witli considrrable dis-
like by the class of nuisters who have been regu-
larly brought up to the business, and served their
apprenticeships as climbing-boys. These look upon
the leeks as men v.ho intrude upon, or interfere
with, liieir natural and, as they account it, legal
rights —declaring that only such as have been
brought up to tiie buMuess should be allowed to
estiiblish themselves in it as masters. The chimney-
B weepers, as far as I can leani, have never pos-
sessed any guild, or any especial trade regulations,
and this vpiuinn of their riulits being invaded by
the leeks arises most probiibly from their know-
leduc that during the climbing boy system every
lad so employed, unl^ssi the son of his employer,
was obliged to be a]iprenticed.

This jcjilousy towards the h'eks does not at all
afl'ectthe operative swwperji.as some ot these leeks
are good master;*, and among them, {K-rhaps. is to
be fiiund the majority of the capitalists of the
chinmey-sweeping trade, paying the best wages,
and finding their journeymen proper food and
lodL'ing. Into whatever district I travelled I
lifard the oprrativt- chiuuiey-sweepcrs .-pvak liiLriily
in favour of ^.mie of the leeks.

M.my of tiie smai! master.*, however, said •• it
v.ere a shame" for p«rii.ns who had n-'ver known
the horrors of cliiiilung to come into the trade am!
tak" the bread out of lh«' ujoiiths of those who
had undergone the drudgery of the ciunbing
ty.-%tom : and there appears to be somi' little justice
in their remarks.

Since the introiiiution of mathines int'> tiie
chiiniify-swiepiiig trade the masters have in-
creased coufiderahly. In li>l(j thrn* were 2uO
nuistiTs. and now ilii-re are 35«». Before the ma-
chines were inlroduceil, the high maNtrr sweepers
or *• liToat genth'iuen," as they were called, num-
bered only about 20 ; their present number is
lUtJ. Tile lowfr-i-lass and master-men sweepers, on
the other hand. Wi*re, under the climbing system,
from 1 .10 to 1 bO in numlK-r ; but at present there
are as many as 2J0 odd. The majority «»f these
fr.'sii hands are '* leeks/' not having been bred to
the bu.-ines3.

Of Tin: Inkerimr Chimnky SwEKrERfi — tue
•Kmlleks" and "Queuiehs."

The majority of occupations in all civilized coni-
nnnmiL'% .'»r«' diviMble into two distinct classes, the
employers and the employed. Tiie employers are
necefcsarily capitalists to a greater or less extent,
providing generally the materials and implements

, necessary for the work, as well as the subsistence
; of the workmen, in the form of wages and ap-
! propriating the proceeds of the labour, while the
I employed are those who, for the sake of the
present subsistence supplied to them, undertake to
do the rpqui.sitc work for the employer. In .s^me
few trades tiiese two functions are found to lie
united in the same individuals. The class
known as peasant proprietors among the culti-
vators of the soil are at once the labourers
and the owners of the land and stock. The cot-
tiers, on the other hand, though renting the land
of the proprietor, are, so to speak, peasant fiinnen.
tilling the huid for themselves rather tlian doing
so at wages for some capitalist tenant. lu handi-
crafts and manufactures the same combination of
functions is found to prevail. In the clothiiuf
districts the domestic workers are generally tbeir
own masters, and so again in many other branchei
of production. These tntding operatives are
known by different names in ditlerent trades. In
till* shoe trade, for iuAtance, they are called
" chamber-masters," in the ** cabinet trade " thej
are termed " garret-masters," and in '* the cooprri
trade" the name for them is "small trading-
I nuisters.'* Some style them "master-men/ awl
I others, '' single-handed masters." In all occapt'
. tions, however, the miister-men are found to be es*
pecially injurious to the interests of the entire bodj
of both CJipitalists and operatives, for, owing to the
; limited extent of their resources, they are obliged
j to find a market for their work, no niatu>r at what
the sacrifice, and hence by their excessive com-
I>eti tions they serve to lower the prices of the
trade to a iiio>t unprecedented extent. I have ss
yet met with no occupation in which the cxist-'acf
I of achns of master-men ha.-* worked well for :he;n-
I tere^t ol the trade, and I have foursd m.>.iiy whica
I they have reduced ti» a stiUe of abject wrrtched-
; iies.-<. It is a peculiar circumstance in conn-vco"
I with tlie master-men that thoy abound only ia
those callings whicli rei|uire a small amount o!"
capital, aiul which, consequently, render it ea«y
f<r the opeiative imnudiately on the le.ist dii-
agreeiiieiit between him and his employer to v&o
fn»m the condition of an operative into tL'il of s
tniding workmen. When among the fancy cabinet-
makers I had a statement from a gentlem.tn, io
Alder^ga^'-street. who supplied the niaterial* 6?
these men, tiiat a Taney cabinet-maker, the m.i:iufic-
turer of writing-df'sks, tea caddies, ladies' work-
boxe.4. &c.. could begin, and did begin, business ca
less than ok. C<{. A youth had just then bvjjjht
j matetials of him for -j*. Of', to *' begin on a sinali
I desk," stepping at once out of the trammels cf
I npprenticesliij) into the character of a maater-nwr.
j Now this facility to commence business on a mau*
I own account is far greater in the chimney-sweeper*
I trade than even in the desk-iimkors,' for the uB''
I needs no previous ti-aining, while the other does.
Thus when other trades, skilled or unikilled.
arc depressed, when casual labour is with a mass
of workpeople more general than constant lab. ur.
they naturally inquire if they **canLot do
better at something else," and often resort to si:cit
trades as tlie chimney-sweepers*. It is oj«en tP

[LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

377

all, skilled and unskilled alike. Distress, a de-
sire of change, a yagabond spirit, a hope to " better
themselyes/' all tend to swell the ranks of the
single-handed master chimney-sweepers; even
though these men, from the casualties of the
trade in the way of "seasons," &e,, are often
exposed to great privations.

There are in all 147 single-handed masters,
who are thus distributed throughout the metro-
polis : —

Southwark (17), Chelsea (11), Marylebone,
Shoreditch, and Whitechapel (each 9), Hackney,
Stepney, and Lambeth (each 8), St. George's-in-
the-Eost (7), Kotherhithe (6), St Giles' and
East London (each 5), Bethnal-green, Bermond-
sey, Camberwell, and Clapham (each i), St.
Pancras, Islington, Walworth, and (Greenwich
(each 3), St. James's (Westminster), Holbom,
Clerkenwell, St. Luke's, Poplar, Westminster,
West London, City, Wandsworth, and Wool-
wich (each 1); in ail, 147.

Thus we perceive, that the single-handed
masters abound in the suburbs and poorer dis-
tricts; and it is generally in those parts where
the lower rate of wages is paid that these men
are found to prevail. Their existence appears to
be at once the cause and the consequence of the
depreciation of the labour.

Of the single-handed masters there is a sub-class
known by the name of " knullers " or " queriers."

The knullers were formerly, it is probable,
known as knellers. The Saxon word Cnyltan
is to knell (to knull properly), or sound a bell, and
the name "knuller" accordingly implies the
founder of a bell, which has been done, there
can be no doubt, by the London chimney-sweepers
M well as the dustmen, to announce their presence,
and as still done in some country parts. One in-
formant has known this to be the practice at the
town of Hungerford in Berkshire. The bell was
in size between that of the mufHn-man and the
dastman.

The knuUer is also styled a *' qiteiier/* a name
derived from his making inquiries at the doors of
the houses as to whether his services are required
or are likely to be soon required, calling even
where they know that a regular resident chimney-
•weeper is employed. The men go along calling
"sweep," more especially in the suburbs, and if
asked "Are you Mr. So-and-So's manT' answer
in the affirmative, and may then be called in to
sweep the chimneys, or instructed to come in the
morning. Thus they receive the full charge of an
established master, who, for the sake of his
character and the continuance of his custom, must
do his work properly; while if such work be
done by the knuller, it will be hurriedly and
therefore badly done, as all work is, in a general
way, when done under false pretences.

Some of the sharpest of these men, I am told,
have been reared up as sweepers ; but it appears,
although it is a matter difficult to ascertain with
precision, the majority have been brought up to
some generally unskilled calling, as scavagers,
costermongers, tinkers, bricklayers' labourers,
soldiers, &^ The knullers or queriers are almost

all to be found among the lower class chimney-
sweepers. There are, from the best information
to be obtained, from 150 to 200 of them. Not only
do they scheme for employment in the way I
have deseribed, but some of them call at the
houses of both rich and poor, boldly stating that

they had been nni by Mr. to sweep the

flues. I was informed by several of the master
sweepers, that many of the fires which happen in
the metropolis are owing to persons employing
these "knullera," "for," say the high masters,
"they scamp the work, and leave a quantity of
soot lodged in the chimney, which, in the event
of a large fire being kept in the range or grate,
ignites." This opinion as to the fires in the
chimneys being caused by the scamped work of
the knullers must be taken with some allowance.
Tradesmen, whose established business is thus, as
they account it, usurped, are naturally angry with
the usurpers.

There is another evil, so say the regular
masten, resulting from the employment of the
knullers — the losses accruing to persons employ-
ing them, as " they take anything they can lay
their hands upon."

This, also, is a charge easy to make, but not
easy to refute, or even to sift. One master chim-
ney-sweeper told me that when chimneys are
swept in rich men's houses there is almost always
some servant in attendance to watch the sweepen.
If the rich, I am told, be watchful under these
circumstances, the poor are more vigilant.

The distribution of the knullen or querien is
as follows : — Southwark (17), Chelsea and St.
Giles' (11 each), Shoreditch and Whitechapel (10
each), Lambeth (9), Marylebone, Stepney and
Walworth (8 each), St. George's in the East and
Woolwich (7 each), Islington and Hackney (6
each). East London, Rotherhithe, and Greenwich
(5 each), Paddington, St. Pancras, East London,
Rethcrhithe and Greenwich (5 each), Paddington,
St Pancras, Bethnal Green, Bermondspy, and
Clapham (4 each), Westminster, St Martin's,
Holbom, St Luke's, West London, Poplar, and
Camberwell (3 each) ; St James's (Westminster),
Clerkenwell, City of London, and Wandsworth
(2 each), Kensington (1) ; in all, 188.

Like the single-handed men the knullers abound
in the suburbs. I endeavoured to find a knuller
who had been a skilled labourer, and was referred
to one who, I was told, had been a working
plumber, and a "good hand at spouts." . I found
him a doggedly ignorant man ; he saw no good,
he said, in books or newspapers, and " wouldn't
say nothing to me, as I *d told him it would be
printed. He wasn't a going to make a holy-
show [so I understood him] of hls-wW*

Another knuller (to whom I was referred by a
master who occasionally employed him as a jour-
neyman) gave me the following account. He was
" doing just middling " when 1 saw him. he said,
but his look was that of a man who had known
privations, and the soot actually seemed to bring
out his wrinkles more fully, although he told me he
was only between 40 and 50 years old ; he be-
lieved he was not 46.

378 LOSDOX LABOUR A.VD THE LOXDOy POOH

" I was hard brought up, tir," he laid ; " ay,
them fu '11 reiid your book- -I mean them readers

gent that hadn't no other change, and a poor
woman as I was going away slipt a couple of

as is well to do— cauiiot fancy how hard. Mother trotters into my hand.
was a widow; fhiher was nobody knew where; | *' I slept at a lodging-house, then, in Baldwin's- |
and, poor woman, she was sometimes distracted ■■ i;nrdous when I had money, and one day in Crray'i
that u daughter she hud before her muniage, went inn-Liuc I picked up an old gent that fell iu the
all wrong. She wns a washerwoman, and sluved middle of the street, and might hare been ma ,
herself to death. iShe died in the house [work- ■ over. After he 'd felt in all his pockeU, and
housi-J in Birmingham. I can read and write a , limnd he was all right, he gave me 5#. I knew a !
little. I wai sent to a charity school, and when I ■ sweep, for I sometimes slept in the same house, in I
was big enough I was put 'prentice to a gun- King-<)treet, Drury-lane; and he was sick, and
smith at Birmingham. I 'm master of the business < was going to the big house. And he told me all
generally, but my p<Tticler part is a gun h>ck-filer. j about his machines, that 's six or seven years back,
No, sir. I can't say as ever I liked it ; nothing but , and Hiid if I *d pay 2«. 6</. down, and 24. 6cf. a
file file all day. I used to wish I was like the j wet-k, if I couldn't pay more, I might have hii
free bits u' boys that used to beg steel filings | machine for 20i. I took it at 17 f. 6d., and paid
of me,f<>r their fifth of November fireworks. I him every farthing. That just kept him out of
never could bear confinement. It 's made me { the house, l)ut he died soon after,
look older tlian I ought, i|kuow,but what can a poor | *< Yes. I 've iMHsn a sweep ever since. I 've had
man do :' No, I never can'd much about drinking. : to shift as well as I could I don't know that I
I worked in an iron-foundry when I was out of \ [ 'm what you call a Nulh.r, or a Querier. We-ll,
my time. I had a relation that was foreman | if I 'lu asked if I 'm an} body's man, I don't like
then*. Terhaps it might be tluit, among all the | to say ' no,' and I don't like to say ' yes :* ao I
dust and heat and smoke and stuff, that uuide me ■ tays nothing if I can help it. Yes, I c:ill st
a sweop at lust, fi-r I was then almost or quite as ! houses to a-^k if anything 's wanted. I 've got a

joli that way sometimes. If they took me &r

black as a sweep.

" Then I come up to London ; ay, that must
be more nor *JU years back. 0, I came up to

anybody's man, I can't lielp that. I lodge with
anotiier sweep which is better off nor I am, and

better niyseli; but I culdn't get work either at ; pay him 2*. ihi. a week for a little stair-head
the gun-makers— and I fancy the London musters I pluce with a bed in it. I think I clear 7i. i
dout like Birminghitm hands— nor at the iron- ! week, one week with another, but that's the ont-
foundries, and the iron-foundries is nothing in | tide. I never go to church ur chnpel. I *vc
London to what they is in Staffordshire and • never got into the way of it Besides, I woulda't
Warwickshire ; nothing at all, they may say what he let in, I s'pose, in my togs. 1 've only mysdC
they like. Well, sir, I soon got very biid off. i I can't siiy I much like what I 'm doing, hot
My tf»^H was liardly to call tcifs. One night — and I what can a poof man do 1 "
it w.is a c>ildi.>h nii>i)t, too — I blept in tiiu park,

ami wm nA siitf ai-.d shivi-ry next morning. As . ()p y,|j. piRKS of IaiXDON.

I was wandering about near the (mrk, 1 walked

np a jjlrei-t near the Abbey King-street, I think CdNNFCTED with the subject of chimney sweeping
it id and there was a picture outside a puhlic- is one which attracts fur lefts of the attenti-^n of
hml^e, and a wriiiii|< of n.en wanted for the East . the U^'i-slature and the public than its importance
India I'l-mpiiny's Service. I wei;t ihrre ajiaiii I would i-eem to demand : I mean iht* fires in th:
in the evening, and there wiis soldiers smoking metropcdi.s. with their long train of ealamilies,
and drinkintr u}» and down, and I 'listed at once. Mich as the lo^s of life aud of proprrty. These
I was t> iiav.* my full bounty when I ^ot to the , calamines, too, e>|»ccially as regards the lujs ©f
d«{wii S:iiiihijmi. ion I think tliey called it. Some- pntperty, are almost all endured by the poor.,
how 1 began to rue wliat I "d done. Well, I the dehtruction of whose furniture is often th*
hardly ran te 1 you why. 0, no; I don't say J dettiuction of their whole pn'piTty, as insunmcei
wa.-* Imdiy u-td ; n(»t at all. But 1 had heard of | are rarely etFccted by them ; while the we.iliiiier
snaken aiid iliingji in the parts I was going to. and classes, in the case of fires, are not exposed to the
I gently hooked it. I was a nav\y on ditVereiit e\ils of houselesHiess, and may be actually
rails atier that, hut 1 never was strong eiiouuh tor ;;ainers by the conflagration, through the sum let
that there work, and at lait I couldn't get any whicli the property was insured-

I more work lo do. I came back to L^mdon ; w»ll, I " The daily occurrence of tires in the metro-
j sir, 1 can't say, as you ask, why I came V* London , poli."*,"' s:iy the B-ard of llealth, '* their extent,
I 'sttad ot llirmingham. I sdMued to go natural . the number of persons who perish by them, iht
j like. 1 could get nothing to do, and Lord ! what , enormous loss of property they occiisiou, the yrt-
} I MiuVreJ 1 I once fell down in the Cut from i valence of incendiarism, the ap^uiri-nt apathy with
> hunger, and I was lifted into Watchtmi's, and lie I which such calamities are regarded, and the
siiil to his luen, ' (Jive the poi»r fellow a little | rapidity with which they are forgotten, wil! here-
drop of iirandy, and after that a biscuit ; the best ! after be refeind to as evidence of a very low
things h«* can have.' He saved my life. sir. The .<ocial cond it ion and defective administrative orsar.i-
peoph- at the bar they bee'd it was no humbug — , r.ation. T!le^e lires, it was shown nearly a con-
gallieied 7\fi. f«ir me. A penny a-piece from j tury ago, when the subject of insunmce wa» J«r-
g(.nu; of Maudslay's men, and a halfpenny from a • bated m Parliament, were frenuently caused fryJa

I

LONDON LABOUR ANJ> TEE LONDON POOR.

879

not having chinuMyi iw^^t in proper tme." I
am informed Ui».t a chimney may W on fire for
laiuiT <i'i3'yi* uiikiiDWD ta the inmates of the faonse,
and finally htmk otit in the body of the building
bj iti g<!ttiDg ID to ctiDtact with lome beam or
wtjod work. The rtcent burning of Limehoiije
Ohurch ii'tt* occaiioned hy the loot colkcted m
the flue taking fire^ and becommg red hot, when
it igiiit<?d the wood' work in thv rt^if. The flue,
or pipp, wiutif iron.

From a return made by Mr. Braid wood of
the hoiitcfl and propertiea destfoyed in the metro-
polii in the ihfee yeara ending in 1849 inclusive,
it app«iir« that th« total number waa 1111 : of
cententi deitroyed (which, being generally insured
nfpanitfilj, ihoold be kepi diatinet) there were
XQ13, the anbjoined table gWes the particulars
as to the proportioii iosured and uninsured : —

_,

iwtinil.

tJRiiwtnd,

Totkl.

Coutenta

914

l&T
404

1111
1013

15^

eoi

2124

The propoTticin per cent of the uninsured to
the inmred, would be —

1.

^

Iittiind.

UMniuied.

TotsL

Cofltentj

nil

1013
3124

83S
OT-1

PerCtnt*
17-7
t9-f

100

loa

71*7

3S<3

100

The following table gives the total number of
Area in the metropoUa during a series of yean:

ABSTRACT OP CAUSES OP FIBB IN THE METE0F0L13, from 188» to 1849, raoLUMTi.

r

l'

»u

IB34 wasjiaae

1837 Wl83B (S40 ]84l|l84f

mi3i8ai945

late

1M7

1948

1W9

TOUI.

Av«nce

A«iil*nt» flf vip

r-^

Timii kiiadft* tar

th£ mo** i**rt un-
avc^idalifar

a

40

14

13

17

m

96

98

9S

41

19

11

17

»

90

19

13

439

97

A!<p*tel igtilttd
nn the per*op . .

7

r

J

3

I!

3

9

s

4

3

3

3

1

9

89

4

Cjindlps, varJout
■cciiteTil* wilb . -

m

ii«

110

ISl

m

138

m

1®

184

189

mm

163

919

8^

937

S41

99711

190

Childreo playing

w

1»

. IS

7

17

H

94

li

l»

*7

15

I*

lA

10

93

94

309

U

nlili Aev or caa-
diri ,,.*..

A

«

18

&

18

11

18

10

90

93

iff

95

Ifl

10

15

S»

14

DrynkenfiH* .,..

^ .

f

3

t

4

8

3

A

11

G

0

a

9

5

3

7

94

5

Fin-heftii »ppH-

esttoa of, to va-

rlaui hAsrElout

:ii

^■1 1

.7!}

34

83

40

SO

^

m

an

14

91

99

39

iff

59

93

440

9S

7

III

19

9

17

13

93

17

97

94

m

65|

93

40

300

11

riTti-wofki ..

3

3

3

3 1

4

7

3

3

m

9

8

1

#

79

4

rirti kindJtd on

i

hfaTllii 4iiii oilier

Improper places ,
Flues, fc?ul< defee^

7

, ,

9

3

3 ! 13

■ ' 7

8

8

0

9

19

7

3

4

4

190

7

J

tit*. &f-.,.-,..

71

fis

m

79

33

M

ii 99

93

m

Iflfi

§4

7t

90

JB|

3ff

79

\wn

75

FuHiieKtloii, in^

3

7

a

ff

I

s; 3

i

3

t

i

3

4

4

4

9

m

3

FuriMtw. kiliM*

^p„ defective or

ov«r-h«»tjed ^ . . .

11

*

a

li

15

99

13

If

99

19

17

99

88

14

18

H

963 1

16

0«A

so
3

29

3

39

1

ai

3

4»
1

1

48

4tl

3

1

33

M

53

A3

^

37
i

z

\

Gutipowdcf ......

.. ' 1

Ketxtbc, dclkw-

..

dTCr fcP-. «....*»

.4

• I

■ >

,,

3

ft

a

F.

4

3

4

3

»4

II

Mot ci&iitii pat

■**y -

Lunpi . ^..

3

3

7

10

e

B

5

11

AS

S

9

9

ff

4

3 ' Jl

9

9

G

II

7

9

3

H

ff

3

Ume, ftUkfngoT.

, ^

3

4

3

4

9

* 1 «

4

9

3

»

7

A

5

3

81

^

Linen, dryioc^air-
Inc. ^c. ^,,...^,
LuBfer-'Uvtche*. .

n

31

4S

31

m

9»!37

41

33

45

90

3i

34

»

4A

mm

30

8

9

n

li < 18

17

14

IM

19

14

9

S»

19

19U

11

Oriiu * » * i * -

6

"

8

3

11

4

13 , 13

i;i

lit

1<I

8

8

li

9

9

h;

7

R#»difi;f» wofk-

Ing^jOT ftmoklni

3

,.

1

9

.. i 5

i

3

n

..

3

1

1

1

99

"

%^..}:^:.

6

9

13

a

17

8

97 35

tf

3!

19

m

35

i?

97

91

330

M

7

■

A

4

4

4

13

U

n

m

23

34

19

19

15

7

10

m

»

Stoveip def«eiive«

Of er-hf aied . Ac*

18

SO

11

flO

96

31

H

48

54

»

58

44

51

43

P

48

43

iU§

%

Tobmu nziDking

ti

4

1

3

4

11

9

91

17

H

91

19

99

19

S

94

939

SiJ*pldouf .,,,..
Wilful

7

a

6

U

7

0

1«

7

8

1 y

17

IV

195

7

.1

1£9

9
114

6
91

a
m

It

57

4S

^

9
38

13
S3

19

n

91

11
74

N

3i !

19
39

S

83 1
39

18
78

9tl
lOHO

19

Unksowa

«3

No. XLVIII.

880

LONDON LABOUR AND TBS LONDON POOR.

Here, then, we peiceiTe tbat there are, upon an
arerage of 17 years, no leiB than 770 " fires ** per
annum, that is to say, 29 honses in erery 10,000
are discovered to he on fire every year ; and ahout
one-fourth of these are uninsured. In the year
1838 the total number of fires was only 458, or
20 in every 10,000 inhabited houses, whilst, in

1849, the number had gradually progressed to
838, or 28 in erery 10,000 houses.

We have here, however, to deal more particB-
larly with the causes of these fires, of which the
following table gives the result of many years' va-
luable experience : —

TABULAR EPITOMB OF MBTBOPOLITAN FIBBS, FBOM 1833 to 1849.
Br W. Baddelit, 29, Alfbsd Stber, Isukotoh.

imSssi

i«3a

SeriouiJfduai««l

9$)t

13S

no

Toolly dectFoyed
TotilNo.ofFfrei

31

M

31

4m m

471

Fnidft AlftTTOl ,.,.

m\ 63

m

Aliu-ifiii from

ChimrK^yjonFirt

ra 106

1(K5

Toul^o. of CfllU

ws m\

Ai3|

Iniurid. on Build-

1

InH and CtinttRU

>.

Iniunncrt on

BtLlldinir cnly ..

...

• ^

Inmnuiea on

Contents emly. .

♦ * *m

*>

UniDtured ..*..-

..

,m

lSI7|lS3a

»i7i 357 3B3

134, 122 im
33' Stf :o

7sfl 717

1410, 173

104

lis'

llA
S4i

1840 1341 ^lS4ff! 1043' II

43R' Ml 489

n\ ^4 ^11,

n* 241 2d,

£96 fm 749,

67. 6) 79

m n m

863 S5S 918

837

343 391

I
149 ]1«

£9 nr 107

153 SSTH Mt

837

m

R4
313

1S4£ 1S4G IM7 1040

431 57« S36

*44 338 *73

32 ao, 47

7ri7 8mI 836

81 lis;

m\ 66' BB

esomi

m 310

m

87AlOXt

31S 303

107' 137

73' laS lS7f 134
IL4' 170^ mi 041

Itff ISO

1049'TotoLJAwr<ff

sm fi^74^ 470

sm. s.'j^ 21]

^8, 305 as

838 BJi04J 77V

aO 1.3107
1003 Itp^l

368 3,718

m

I
I€I 1,308

I

TV 1.433 \H
S3S 3«S19l

Thus we perceive tbat, out of an aTersge of
665 fires per annum, the information being de-
riTed from 17 years' experience, the following
were the number of fires produced by diflferent
causes:— ATenge

No. of
Fires per
Anuum.
Candles, Tarioui accidents with . . 169
Flues, foul, defectiTO, &c . . .75
Unknown ..... 68

Gas

StoTes over-heated ....

Linen, drying, airing, &c. .

Accidents of various kinds, for the most

part unavoidable 27

Fire heat, application of, to various ha-
zardous manufacturing processes .
Fire sparks .....
Shavings, loose, ignited
Carelessness, palpable instances of
Furnaces, kUns, &c., defective or over-
heated

Children playing with fire or candles .
Tobacco smoking ....
Spontaneous combustion .

Wilful 12

Lucifer-matches . . . .11

Ovens ...... 7

Fires, kindled on hearths and other
improper places 7

46
87
30

2G
21
20
18

16
14
14
13

Suspicious

Lamps

Drunkenness

Lime, slaking of ... .
Apparel, ignited on the person .

Fireworks

Hot cinders put away

Incautious fumigation

Reading, working, or smoking in bed .

Hearths defective . . . .

7

5

5

4

4

4

3

3

1-33

1'26

Here, then, we find that while the greatest pio-
portion of fires are caused by accidents with candhi^
about one-ninth of the fires above mentioned arin
from foul flues, or 75 out of 665, a cireamstaiws
which teaches us the usefnbest of the dass of Is-
bourers of whom we have been lately treating;

It would seem that a much larger proportion sf
the fires are wilfully produced than appear in d»
above table.

The Board of Health, in speaking of iBen-
diarism in connection with insurance, report : —

'' Inquiries connected with measures for the ioi-
provement of the population have developed the
operation of insurances, in engendering crimes
and calamities ; negatively, by weakening natonl
responsibilities and motives to care and fne*
thought ; positively, by temptations held out ts
the commission of crime in the facility with whiek
insurance money is usually obtainable.

" The steady increate in the number of firei
in the metropolis, whilst our advance in the srti
gives means for theif diminution, is ascribsble
mainly to the operation of these two causes, sad
to the division and weakening of administrative
authority. From information on which we csa
rely, we feel assured that the crime of inceo*
diarism for the sake of insurance money exists to
a far greater extent than the public are aware o£*

Mr. Braid wood has expressed his opinion tbat
only one-half of the property in the metropolis ii
insured, not as to numbers of property, but ^as to
value ; but the proportion of insured and unin-
sured houses could not be ascertained.

Mr. Baddeley, the inspector to the Sodety for
the Protection of Life from Fire, who had given
attention to the subject for the last 30 years, gave
the Board the following account of the increase of
fires : —

665

LONDON LABOUR AND THB LONDON FOOR.

881

Firetper
Annum of
Hoiuetand
Properties

Of which

were

Totally

Uninsured.

Proportion

neriCent.

of Insured

Propertiet
Burnt.

In the firtt seven
years there were
on an ayerage .

In the second
•even yearai . .

623
790

215
244

6fil6
69-8

During this period there has heen a great In-
crease in the number of dwellings, bat this has
been chiefly in sobnrban places, where fires rarely
occur. ' ■ ■*.

" The freqn«ncy'of fires," it is further stated,
"led Mr. Payne, the coroner of the City of
London, to revive the exercise of the coroner's
function of inquiring into the causes of fires;
most usefully. Out of 58 inquests held by him
jIn the City of London and the bcvongh of
Southwark, which comprise only one-eighteenth
of the honses of the metropolis) since 1845, it
appears that, 8 were proved to be wilful; 27
apparently accidental*; and 23 from causes nn-
Imown, including suspicious causes. The propor-
tion of ascertained wilful fires was,' therefore, 23
per cent ; which gives strong confirmation to the
indications presented by the statistical returns as
to the excess of insured property burnt above un-
insured."

The at once mean and reckless criminality of
anon, by which a man exposes his neighbours to
the risk of a dreadful death, which he himself
takes measures to avoid, has long, and on many
oecasions, gone unpunished in London. The
insurance companies, when a demand is made upon
them for a loss through fire, institute an inquiry,
carried on quietly by their own people. The
daimant is informed, if sufficient reasons for such
a step appear, that firom suspicious circumstances,
which had come to the knowledge of the com-
pany, the demand would not be complied with,
and that the company would resist any action for
the recovery of the money. The criminal becomes
alarmed, he is afiraid of committing himself, and
■0 the matter drops, and the insurance companies,
not being required to pay the indemnification, are
satisfied to save their money, and let the incen-
diarism remain unnoticed or unpunished. Mr.
Payne, the coroner, has on some occasions strongly
coDunented on this practice as one which showed
the want of a public prosecutor.

A few words as regards the means of extinc-
tion and help at fires.

Upwards of two years ago the Commissioners
of Police instructed their officers to note the time
which elapsed between the earliest ahrm of fire
I and the arrival of the first engine. Seventeen
fires were noted, and the average duration of time
before the fire-brigade or any parochial or local
fire-engine, reached the spot, was 86 minutes.
Two or three of these fires were in the suburbs ; so

that in this erowded eity, so densely packed with
houses and people, fifteen fires raged unchecked
for more than half-an-hour.

There are inlthe metropolis, not including the
more distant suburbs, 150 public fire stations,
with engines proTided under the management of
the parochial authorities. The fire-brigade has
but seventeen stations on knd, and two on the
river, which are, indeed, floating engines, one
being usually moored near Southwark-bridge, the
other having no stated pkce, being chansed in its
locality, as may be considered best In &e course
of three years, the term of the official inquiry,
the engines of the fire-brisade reached on the
average the phice where a fire was raging thirty'
five times as the eariiest means of assistano^
when the parochial engines did the same only In
the proportion of two to the thirty-five.

Mr. bnudwood, the director of the fire-brigade,
stated,'when questioned on the subject with a view
to a report to be laid before Parliament, that " the
average time of an engine turning out with horses
was firam three to seven minutes." The engines
are driven at the rate of ten miles an hour along
the streets, which, in the old coaching days, was
considered the " best royal mail pace." Indeed,
there have been fiequent compbdnts of the
rapidity with which the fire^ngines are driven,
and if the drivers were not skSful and alert, it
would really amount to recklessness.

** Information of the breaking out of a fire," it
is stated in the report, ** will be conveyed to the
station of the brigade at the rate of about five
miles an hour: thus in the case of the occurrence of
a fire within a mile of the station, the intelligence
may be conveyed to the station In about twcdve
minutes; the horses wiQ be put to, and the
engine got out into the street in about five
minutes on the average ; it traverses the mile in
about six minutes ; and the water has to be got
into the enaine, which will occupy about five
minutes, msking, under the most favourable cir-
cumstances for such a distance, 28 minutes, or for
a half-mile distance, an average of not less than
20 minutes."

The average distance of the occurring fires
from a brigade station were, however, during a
period of three years, terminating in 1850, up-
wards of a mile. One was five miles, several
four miles, more were two miles, and a mile and
a half, while the most destructive fires were at an
average distance of a mile and three quarters.
Thus it was impossible for a fire-brigade to give
assistance as soon as assistance was needed, and,
nnder other circumstances, might have been ren-
dered. And all this damage may and does very
often result from what seeips so trifling a neglect
as the non-sweeping of a chimney.

Mr. W. Baddeley, an engineer, and a high
authority on this subject, has stated that he had
attended fires for 30 years in London, and that, of
838 fires which took pUure In 1849, two-thirds
might have been easily extinguished had there
been an immediate application of water. In some
places, he said, delay originated from the turn-
cocks b«ng at wide intervals, and fome of the

382

L0XDO2T LABOUR AND THE LOKDON POOR.

compftnies objecting to let any but their own
servants have the crnnmand of the nain-cocki.

The Board of Health have recommended the
formation of a lerieB of itreet-water plogi within
■hort distancofi of each otlier, the water to be con-
stantly on at high presmre night and day, and the
whole to be under the charge of a trained liody
of men nuch as compote the preient fire-brigade,
provided at appointed ntntioni with every necesiary
appliance in the way of hoae, pipes, ladders, &c.
"The hose should be within the reach/' it is
nidged in the report, "fixed, and applied on nn
average of not more than five minutes from the
time of the alarm being given ; that is to say, in
lefs than one-fourth of the time within which tire-
engines are brought to bear under existing nr-
rangenients, and with a still greater proportionate
diminution of risks and serious accidents."

Nor is this mode of extinguishing fires a mere
experiment. It is successfully practised in some
of the American cities, Fhiladelphia among the
number, and in some of our own manufacturing
toi^ns. Mr. Kmmott, the engineer and manager
of the Oidham Water- works, has described the
practice in that town on the occurrence of fires: —

" In five cases out of six, the hose is pushed
into a water-plug, and the water thrown upon a
building on fire, for the average pressure of water
in this town i$ 146 feet; by this means our fires
arc generally extinguished even before tlic )>eavy
engine arrives at the spot. The hose is much
preferred to the engine, on account of the speed
with which it is applied, and the readiness with
which it in ui«ed, for one man can manage a hose,
and throw ns much water on the building on lire
as an 0Tij;in(? worked by many mt-n. On tliis
account \vc vt-iy rarely indeed use tin' engine!*, as
thj-y {■o.'..<os8 no advantage whatever over the
husj'."

\Vhen the city of Hamburgh was rebuilt two
or tliree years back, after its destruction by tire,
it was rebuilt chiefly ui:der the direction «»f Air.
W. Lindloy, the on^'ircer, and, as far as Mr.
LindlfV could accomplish, <ii Kinitary principles,
such aM tlie abolition of cesspodls. The arranpe-
ments for the turfaco cleansing of tlie streets by
means of the h(tte and jet and the water-plugs,
are made available fur the extinction of fires, and
with t}i*» following results, as communicated by
Mr. Liudlev : -

'• Jfave there been fires in buildings in Ham-
burgh in the portion of the town rebuilt? — Yes,
rejK-atedly. They have all. however, bei-n put
out at once. If they had had to wait the usual
time for eugines and water, say 2«» minutes or
half an hour, these might all have led to exten-
sive conflagrations.

" \Vhat has been the effect on insurance?—
The etVect of the rapid extinction of fires has
brouj;ht to light to the citizens of Hamburph, the
fact that the greater proportion of their fires are
the work of mcendiaries, for the sake of the in-
surance money. A person is absent ; smoke is
seen to exude ; the alarm of fire is given, and the
dcor is f<.rced open, the jet applied, and the fire ,
extinguished immediately. Case after case has

occurred, where, upon the fire being extinguished,
the armngements for the spread of the fire are
found and made manifest. Seveml of this class
of incendiaries for the insurance money are now
in prison. The saving of money alonei by the
prevention of fires, would be worth the whole ex-
pense of the like arrangement in London^ where
it is well known that similar practices prevail ex-
tensively."

The following statement was given by Hr.
Quick, an engineer, on this subject : —

" After the destruction of the terminoB of the
South Western Kail way by fire, I recommended
them to liave a ^-inch main, with 3-iuch ontleti
leading to six stand-pipes, nt-ith joining screws for
hose-pipes to l>e attached, and that tbey should
carry a 3-inch pipe of the same description ap
into each fl(M»r. so that a hose might be attached
in any room where the fire commenced.

"In how many minutes may the bote be
attached; — There is only the time of attaching
the hose, which need be nothing like a minute.
I have indeed n^commended that a short length
of hose with a short nozzle or branch should be
kept attached to the cock, so that the cock hsi
only to be turned, which is done in an instant.

''It api>ears that fire-engines require 26 men to
work each engine of two 7 -inch barrels, to pre*
ducc a jift of about 50 feet high. The arrange-
ment carried o\it, at your recouimendaition, witb
six jets, is equivalent to keeping six such enginei^
and the power of ITit! men, in readiness to act it
all times, night and day, at about n minute's
noting, for the extinction of fire* ^ — It will gives
power more than equal to that number of men;
for the ji'is given otf from a 20-inch main will be
much more rej^ular and powerful, and will deliver
more water than could be delivered by any
cniine. Tho jt'ts at that j)lace would be 70 feet
hi-h.-

Th-' system of roof-cisterns, which was at out
time popular as a means of extinction, has iieen
found, it appears, on account of their K-akape acd
diffusion of damp, to be but sorry contrivani-es,
an<l have very generally been diM^untinned. Mr.
Holme, a builder in Liverpool, gives tlie follow-
in?. e\en under the circumstances, amusing ac-
count of a fire where such a cistern was pro-
vided : -

" The owner of a cotton kiln, which had l»een
repeatedly burnt, took it into hia head to erects
larye tank in the roof. His idea was. that when
a fire occurred, they should have water at hand;
and when the fire ascended, it would bum the
wooden tank, and the whole of the couter.ti
being discharged on the fire like a c.itaract, it
would at once extinguish it. Well, the kiln
again took fire; the smoke was so suffiKatir.ff,
that nobody could get at the interitnl pipe, and
the whole building was again destroyed. But
what brcame of the tank I It could not bum,
because it was filled v^-ith water ; consequent y. ii
boiled most admirably. Ko hole was singed is
its side or bottom ; it looked very ]>icturesqutf,
but it was utterly useless."

The necessity of almost immediate help ij

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON FOOR.

383

■hown in th« Mlowing ftatement by Mr. Biaid-
wood^ when coniulted on the Mibject of fiie-
ctcapei, wbick under the present sjitam are not
considered safficiently effective : — %

"Taking London to be six miles long and
three miles broad, to have anjrthing like an
efficient system of fire-escapes, it would be neces-
sary to have one with a man to attend it within a
quarter of a mile of each honse, as assistance, to
be qf any ute, muH generally he rendered tnUiin
five minutee e^fier tAe alarm %e given.. To do this
the stations mast be within a quarter of a mile of
each other (as the OKapes must be taken round
the angles of the streets) : 253 stations would
thus be required and as many men.

" At present scaling ladders are kept at all the
engine stations, and eanvas sheets also at some
of them ; several lives have been saved by them ;
but the distance of the stations from each other
renders them applicable only in a limited number
of instances."

The engines of the fire-brigade throw up about
iK) gallons a minute. Their number is about
100. The cost of a fire-engine is from 60^. to
100^, and the hose, buckets, and general appa-
zatus, cost nearly the same amount.

Op the Sewebmen aivs Nightxen ov
London.

Wb now come to the consideration of the last
of the several classes of labourers engaged in the
removal of the species of refuse from the metro-
polis. I have before said that the public refuse
of a town consists of two kinds : —
I. The street-refuse.
II. The house- refuse.
Of each of these kinds there are two spe-
cies:—

A. The dry.

B. The wet

The dry street-refuse consists, as we have seen,
of the refuse earth, bricks, mortar, oyster-shells,
potsherds, and pansherds.

And the dry house-refuse of the soot and 'ashes
of our fires.

The wet street-refuse consists, on the other
hand, of the mud, slop, and surface water of our
public thoroughfiires.

And the wet house-refuse, of what is fiuniliarly
known as the " slops " of our residences, and the
liquid refuse of our fiictories and slaughter-

We have already collected the fscts in connec-
tion with the three first of these subjects. We
have ascertained the total amount of each of these
species of refuse which have to be annually re-
moved from the capital. We have set forth the
aggregate number of labourers who are engaged
in the removal of it, as well as the gross sum that
is paid fi>r so doing, showing the individual earn-
ings of each of the workmen, and arriving, as
near as possible, at the profits of their employers,
as well as the condition of the employed. This
has been done, it is believed, for the first time in
this country ; and if the subject has led us into

longer discossions than usual, the importance of
the matter, considered in a sanitary point of view,
is such that a moment's refiection will convince
us of the value of the inquiry— especially in
connection with a work which aspires to embrace
the whole of the offices performed by the la-
bourers of the capital of the British Empire.

It now but remains for us to complete tlus
novel and vast inquiry by settling the condition
and earnings of the men engaged in the removal of
the last species of public rdiue. I shall consider,
first, the aggregate quantity of wet house-refuse
that has to be annually removed ; secondly, the
means adopted for the removal of it ; thirdly, the
cost of so doing ; and lastly, the number of men
engaged in this kind of work, as well as the
wages paid to them, and the physical, intellectual,
and moral condition in which they exist, or, more
properly speaking, are allowed to remain.

Or iinE Wet Hou8S-&ifd8e of London.

All house-refuse of a liquid or semi-liquid cha-
racter is tcet refuse. It may be called semi-liquid
when it has become mingled with any solid sub-
stance, though not so fully as to have lost its pro-
perty of fluidity, its natural power to flow along
a suitable inclination.

Wet house-refuse consists of the "slops'* of
a household. It consists, indeed, of all waste
water, whether from the supply of the water
companies, or from the rainfall collected on the
roofs or rards of the houses; of the *'suds" of
the washerwomen, and the water used in every
department of scouring, cleansing, or cooking. It
consists, moreover, of the refuse proceeds from the
several fiuitories, dye-houses, &c. ; of the blood
and other refuse (not devoted to Prussian blue
manu&cture or sugar refining) from the butchers'
slaughter-houses and the knackers' (horse slaugh-
terers') yards ; as well as the refuse fluid from
all chemical processes, quantities of chemically
impregnated water, for example, being pumped, as
soon as exhausted, from the tan-piu of Ber-
mondsey into the drains and sewers. From the
great hat-manufactories (chiefly also in Ber-
mondsey and other parts of the Borough) there is
a constant flow of water mixed with dyes and
other substances, to add to the wet refuse of
London.

It is evident, then, that all the water consumed
or wasted in the metropolis must form a portion of
the total sum of the wet refuse.

There is, however, the exception of what is
used for the watering of gardens, which is ab-
sorbed at once by the soil and iu vegetable pro-
ducts; we must also exclude suck portion of
water as is applied to the laying of the road and
street dust on dry summer days, and which forms
a part of the street mud or " mac" of the scava-
ger s cart, rather than of the sewerage ; and we
must fiirther deduct the water derived from the
street plugs for the supply of the fire-engines,
which is consumed or absorbed in th^ extinction
of the flames ; as well as the water required for
the victualling of ahipt on the ere of a voyage.

884

LONDON LABOUR AND THB LONDON POOR.\

whenracli lopply if not deriyed immediateljfirom
the Thamet.

The quantity of water requind for the diet, or
bereiage, or geneiml ate of the population ; the
qnantity^conramed by the maltsten, diitQlen,
brewers, ginger-beer and soda-water makers, and
manufiictimng chemists ; for the making of tea,
ooffiBe, or cocoa*; and for drinking at meals (which
is often derived from pumps, and not from the
sapplies of the water companies); — the water
which '}b thus consomed, in a prepared or in a
simple state, passes into the wet refuse of the
metropolis in another form.

Now, according to reports sabmitted to Parlia-
ment when an improvedl system of water-supply
was under consideration, the daily supply of water
to the metropolis is as follows : —

Gallons.

From the Water Companies . 44,883,329
„ „ Artesian Wells . . 8,000,000
„ „ knd spring pumps . 3,000,000

The yearly rain-foil throughout
metropolis is 172,053,477 tons, or
gallons, 2 feet deep of rain foiling
inch of London in the course of
yearly total of the water pumped
the metropolis is as follows : —

Tearly mechanical supply
„ natural ditto

55,888,329

the area of the
83,589,972,120
on eyery square
the year. The
or foiling into

Oslkms.
19,215,000,000
38,539,972,122

57,754,972,122

The reader will find the details of this subject
at p. 203 of the present Toliime. I recapitulate
the results here to save the trouble of reference,
and briefly to present the question under one head.

Of course the rain which ultimately forms a
portion of the gross wet refuse of London, can be
only such as foils on that part of the metropo-
litan area which is occupied by buildings or
streets. What foils upon fields, gardens, and all
open ground, is absorbed by the soil. But a large
proportion of the rain foiling upon the streets, is
either absorbed by the dry dust, or retained in
the form of mud ; hence that only which foils on the
house-tops and yards can be said to contribute
largely to the gross quantity of wet refuse poured
into the sewers. The streets of London appear to
occupy one-tenth of the entire metropolitan area,
and the houses (estimating 300,000 as occupying
upon an average 100 square yards each *) another
tithe of the surfoce. The remaining 92 square
miles out of the 115 now included in the Regis-
trar-Qeneral's limits (which extend, it should be
remembered, to Wandsworth, Lewisham, Bow,
and Hampstead), may be said to be made up of
suburban gardens, fields, parks, &c., where the

* In East and West London there arc rather more
than 32 houses to the acre, which gives an average of 151
square yards to each dwelling, so that, allowing the
streeu here to occupy one-third of the area, we have
100 square yards for the space covered by each house.
In Lewisham, Harapttead, and Wandsworth, there is
not one house to the acre. Xhe average number of
houses per acre throughout London is 4.

Homed cattle
Sheep
Calves.
Pigs .

. 224,000

. 1,550,000

. 27,800

. 40,000

1,841,800

The blood flowing from a slaughtered bullock,
whether killed according to the Christian or the
Jewish foshion, amounts, on an average, to 20
quarts ; from a sheep, to 6 or 7 quarts ; from i
pig, 5 quarts ; and the same quantity from a calL
The blood from a horse slaughtered in a knacken*
yard is about the same as that from a bullock.
This blood used to bring far higher prices to the
butcher than can be now realised.

In the evidence taken by a Select Committee of
the House of Commons in 1849, concerning
Smithfield-market, Mr. Wyld, of the Fox and
Knot-yard, Smithfidd, stated that he slaughtered
about 180 cattle weekly. " We have a sort of
well made in the slaughterhouse," he said, " whidi
receives the blood. I receive abont 1^. a wedc
for it ; it goes twice a day to Mr. Ton's, at Bov
Common. We used to receive a good deal more
for it." Even the market for blood at Mr. Ton's,
is, I am informed, now done away with. He wu
a manufacturer of artificial manure, a preparatico
of night-soil, blood, &c., baked in what may be
called " cakes," and exported chiefly to our sagsr
growing colonies, for manure. His manure ysid
has been suppressed.

I am assured, on the authority of experienced
butchers, that at the present time fiilly three-
fourths of the blood from the animals slaughtered
in London becomes a component part of the wet
refuse I treat of, being washed into the sewen.

rain-water would soak into the earth. We have,
then, only two4enths of the groii nin-fidl, or
7,700,000,000 gallons, that codd posmbly apfcar
in the sewers, and calculating one-third of this to
be absorbed by the mud and dust of the ttreets,
we come to the conclusion that the total quantity
of rain-water entering the sewers is, in round
numbers, 5,000,000,000 gallons per annum.

Reckoning, therefore, 5,000,000,000 galloas
to be derived firom the annual nin-fidl, it ap- I
pears that the yearly supply of water, from all
sources, to be accounted for among the wet house- I
refuse is, in round nnmben, 24,000,000,000
gallons.

The refuse water firom the fiKtories need not be
calcoUted separately, as its supply is indnded in
the water mechanically supplied, and the loss
from evaporation in boiling, &c., would be per
fectly insignificant if deducted frmn the viit
annual supply, but 850,000,000 gallons have been
allowed for this and other losses.

There is still another source of the snpply of
wet house-refuse unconnected either with the
rain-foil or the mechanical supply of water—I
mean such proportion of the blood or other refine
from the butchers* and knackers' premises ss ii
washed into the sewers.

Offidal returns show that the yeariy quanti^
of animals sold in Smithfield is —

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

885

The more wholesale shraghterers, now that blood
18 of little value (9 gallons in Whitechapel-market,
the blood of two b^t*— less by a gallon— can be
bought for Zd,), send this animal refuse down the
drams of their premiies in far greater quantities
than was formerly their custom.

Now, reckoning only three-fourths of the blood
from the cattle slaughtered in the metropolis,
to find its way. into the sewers, we have, according
to the numbers above given, the following yearly
supply : —

Galloiu.
From homed cattle . . . 840,000
„ sheep .... 1,748,000

„ pjg« 87,600

„ calves .... 25,590

2,646,090

This is merely the blood from the animals sold
in Smithfield-market, the lambs not being included
in the return ; while a great many pigs and calves
are slaughtered by the London tradesmen, without
their having been shown in Smithfield.

The ordure from a slaughtered bullock is, on an
average, from ^ to } cwt Many beasts yield one
cwt. ; and cows " killed full of grass," as much
as two cwt Of this excrementitious matter, I am
informed, about a fourth part is washed into the
sewers. In sheep, calves, and pigs, however,
there is very little ordure when shiughtered, only
8 or 4 lbs. in each as an average.

Of the number of horses killed there is no
official or published account One man fieaniliar
with the subject calcukted it at 100 weekly. All
the blood from the knackers' yards is, I am told,
washed into the sewers ; consequently its yearly
amount will be 26,000 gallons.

But even this is not the, whole of the wet house-
refuse of London.

There are, in addition, the excreta of the
inhabitants of the houses. These are said to average
i lb. daily per head, including men, women, and
children.

It is estimated by Bousingault, and confirmed
by Liebig, that each individuial produces \ lb. of
solid excrement and 1^ lb. of liquid excrement
per day, making 1^ lb. each, or 150 lbs. per 100
individuals, of semi-liqnid refuse from the water-
closet "But," says the Surveyor of the Me-
tropolitan Commission of Sewers, " there is other
refuse resulting from culinary operations, to be
conveyed through the drains, and the whole may
be about 250 lbs. for 100 persons.''

The more fluid part of this refuse, however, n
included in the quantity of water before given, so
that there remains only the more solid excremen-
titious matter to add to the previous total. This,
then, is i lb. daily and individually ; or from the
metropolitan popuktion of nearly 2,500,000 a
daily supply of 600,000 lbs., rather more than
267 tons ; and a yearly aggregate for the whole
metropolis of 219,000,000 lbs., or very nearly
about 100,000 tons.

From the foregoing account, then, the following
if shown to be

The Orost QuantUy qf ike Wa Uoute-Rtfute qf
it ■ like MOrcpolit.

Ganoni. LtM.

*' Slops " and unab-

sorbed rain-water. . . . 24,000.000,000 = 24».000.000,000

Blood of bearts. . . . 2,646,000 = 26,460.000

„ hones.... 26,000= 260.000

ExcreU 219,000,000

Duog of ilaugh-

tered cattle 17,400,000

Total 24,002.657,000 = 240,263,120,000

Hence we may conclude that the more fluid
portion of the wet house-refuse of London amounts
to 24,000,000,000 gallons per annum; and that
altogether it weighs, in round numbers, about
240,000,000,000 lbs., or 100,000,000 tons.

As these refuse products are not so much
matters of trade or sale as other commodities, of
course less attention has been given to them, in
the commercial attributes of weight and admea-
surement I will endeavour, however, to present
an uniform table of the whole great mass of me-
tropolitan wet house-refuse in cubic inches.

The imperial standard gallon is of the capacity
of 277'274 cubic inches ; and estimating the solid
excrement spoken of as the ordinary weight of
earth, or of the soil of the land, at 18 cubic feet
the ton, we have the following result, calculating
in round numbers : —

Wet ffouee-Rtftue of the Metropolis.

Liquid . . 24,000,000,000 gal. = 6,600,000,000,000 cub. in.
SoUd.... 100,000 tons = 3,110,400,000 „

Thus, by this process of admeasurement, we
find the

WsT Housa-RsFUSs\ =6,603,110,400,000 cubic in., or
or LoNOOK / 3,820,000,000 cubic feet

Figures best show the extent of this refuse,
"inexpressible" to common appreciation ''by
numbers that have name."

Of THi Means of Rehoying the Wei

HOVSS-SEFUBE.

Whether this mass of filth be, zymotically, the
cause of cholera, or whether it be (as cannot be
be questioned) a means of affricultural fertility,
and therefore of national wedth, it mutt be re-
moved. I need not dilate, in explaining a necessity
which is obvious to every man with uncorrupted
physical senses, and with the common moral sense
of decency.

" Br. Paley,** it is said, in a recent Beport to the
Metropolitan Commission of Sewers, "gave to
Burckhardt and other travellers a set of instruc-
tionf as to points of observation of the manners
and conditions of the populations amongst whom
they travelled. One of the leading instructions
was to observe how they disposed of their excreta,
for what they did with that showed him what
men were ; he also inquired what structure they
had to answer the purpose of a privy, and what
were their habits in respect to it This informa-
tion Dr. Paley desired, not for popular use, but for
himself, for he was accustomed to say, that the
heU connected with that topic gave him more

380

LOXDOX LABOUR AXD THE LOXDOX POOR.

information as to the real condition and civiliKition
of a popuiutiuii than nio«t persons wimld btf awuro
<if. It would iiitorni him of their n.'iil habits of
clean liiif^K!, of roal drcciicy, solf lospect, and con-
nected moral hahits of hi^h social importance. It
would inform Iiim of the real state of pulice, and
of local admini:»tr.itii>n, ai.d much of the general
governnunl.

•* 'Ihe human ordure which drtilcs the churelios,
the Imtieii «)f pulilic rditii-es and works of art in
liomc and Naples, and the Italian cities, gives
more sure iiulicat:ons of the renl monil and social
jwi^ition of the Italian population than any im-
pressions derived from the edifices and works of
art t)ieni»elves.

" The subject, in relation to which the Jewish
lawgiver gave most paiticular directions, is one on
wiiiih the serious attention and labour of public
udminibtnitors may i>e claimed."

Ihe next question, is — Jlotv is the wet house-
refuse to be removed ?

There .ire two ways : —

1. One is, to transport it to a river, or some
(NiwerfuUy curn*nt stream by a series of
ducti.
^. The other is, to dig a hole in the neigh-
bourhood of the house, there collect the
wet refuse of tiie household, and when
the- hole or pit becomes full, remove the
contents to some other part.

In London the most obvious means of getting
lid of a nuisance is to convey it inti> the Thames.
Nor has this leen done in London only. In I'aris
the Seine is the rieeptacle of the sewage, but,
comparatively, to a niuch smaller extent than in
London. The fiecal deposits : ccuumlated in the
houses of tlu; French cMpit^il are drained into
*• fixed" and " nio\e:ilile'* cesspools. The contents
of both these descriptions <jt ce8>pools (of which I
ehnll give an account when I treat of the cesspool
system^ are removed p«'riodically, under tlie direc-
tion of tlie government, to large receptacles, called
<-./.V/r.*, at Monifaucon, and the Forest of 13<indy,
will re bucli refuse Ls made into portable manure.
The evils of this t-ystem are not a few; but the
river is ^paIed the greater pollution of the Thann-s.
Neither ia the Seine swayed by the tide as is the
Thames, for in Lond<in the very sewers are
affected by the tidal inlluence, and are not to be
entered until some lime before or atUr high-water.
I neeil not do more, for my present inquiry, than
allude to the Lilly, the Clyde, the II umber, and
others of the rivers of the United Kingdom, being
used lor purposes of sewerage, as channels to
carry oif that of which the law prohibits the
retention.

K)( the folly, not to s:iy wicketiness, of this
principle, there aui be no doubt. The vegetation
which gives, demands fiKid. The grass will wither
without its fitting nutriment of manure, as the
sheep would perish without the pasturage of the
grass. Nature, in tem[>erato and moist climates,
is, so to speak, lier own manurer, her own re-
storer. The sheep, which are as wild and active
as goats, manure the Cumberland fells in which
they feed. In the more cultivated sheep-walks

(or, indeed, in the general pnsturagf>} of the
northern and some of the midland counties,
women, with a wooden implement, may be conti-
nually seen in the later autumn, or earlier and
milder winter, distributing the '' stercoraceoni
treasure," as (.-owper calls it, which the animals,
to use the North Yorkshire word, have " dropped,'
as well as any extraneous manure which may
have been spread for the purpose. As population
and the demand for bread increase, the need of
extraneous manures also increases ; and Nature in
her beneficence has provided that the greater the
c«>nsumption of food, the greater shall be the
promoters of its reproduction by what is loath-
some to man, but demanded by vegetation. Lie-
big, as I sh:Ul afterwards show more fully, contends
that many an arid and desolate region in the East,
I brown and burnt with barrenness, became a de«o-
I lation because men understood not the restoration
\ which all nature demands for the land. He de-
I clares that the now desolate regions of the £ait
, had been made desolate, because '' the inhabitants
; did not understand the art of restoring exhausted
soil." It would be hopeless now to form, or
attempt to form, the " hanging gardens," or tj
display the rich florescence "round about Baby-
lon,*' to be seen when Alexander the Great died
in that city. The Tigris and Kuph rates, beflm
and after their junction, Liebig maintains, hare
carried, and, to a circumscribed degree, still carry,
into the sea *' a sufficient amount of manure foe
the reproduction of food for millions of humui
beings." It is said that, '' could that matts
only be arrested in its progress, and convettcd
into bread and wine, fruit and l>eef, mutton and
wool, linen and cotton, then cities might flniui^h
once nion; in the desert, where men are now dig-
ging for the relics of primitive civilization, ai^
discovering the symbols of luxury and ease beneath
the barren »ind and the sunburnt clay."

This is one great evil ; but in our metropMis there
is a greater, a far greater, beyond all in detrree,
even if the Siime abu.«se exist elsewhere. What
siciety with one consent pronouncesfilth — theera-
cuatiins of the human bi^y — is not only washed
into the Thames, and the land so deprived of a vast
amount of nutriment, but the tide washes these evi-
cuations back again, with other alKimi nations. The
water we use is derived almost entirely from the
Thames, and therefore the water in which we boO
our vegetables and our meat, the waiter for our ci»ffe«
and tea, the water brewed for our con Mini ption, cornel
to us, and is imbibed by us, impregnated over and
over again with our own animal oifal. We import
guano, and drink a solution of our own faeces : a
manure which might be made far more valuabu:
than the foreign guano.

Such are a few oi the evils of making a con-
mon sewer of the neighbouring river.

The other mode of removal is, to convey the
wet house-refuse, by drains, to a hole near the
house where it is produced, and empty it periodi-
cally when full.

The house-drainngc throughout London has two
chanictcristics. Uy one system all ezcrcmentiuoui
and slop refuse generally is carried tuually aioog

LOirDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

887

brick drains from the water-closett, privief^ sinki,
layntorieSy &c., of the houses into the cesspools,
where it accumulates until its remoTal (by manual
labour) becomes necessary, which is not, as an
BTemge, more than once in two years. By the
other, and the newer system, all the house-refuse
is drained into the public sewer, the cesspool
system being thereby abolished. All the houses
built or rebuilt since 1848 are constructed on the
last-mentioned principle of drainage.

The first of these modes is cesspoolage.
The second is sewerage.

I shall first deal with the sewerage of the me-
tropolis.

Of THl QUAXTITT OF Hbtbopoutas
Sewaqx.

Haviko estimated the gross quantity of wet house-
refuse produced throughout London in the eourse
of the year, and explained the two modes of re-
moving it from the immediate vicinity of the
house, I will now proceed to set forth the qwintity
of wet housa-refuse matter which it has beeu
OKtrtainMd is removed with the oontents of Lon-
don sewers.

An experiment was made on the average dis-
charge of sewage from the outlets of Church-
lane and Smith-streety Chelsea, Ranelagh, King's
ScholarVpond, Grosvenor-wharf, Horseferry-road,
Wood-street, King-street, Northnmberland-street,
Dorfaam-yard, Noifolk-streot, and Essex-street
(the four last-mentioned places running from the
Strand). The experiments were made "under
ordinary and extraordinary circumstances," in the
months of May, June, and July, 1844, but the
aysteai is still the same, so that the result in the
investigation as to the sewage of the year 1844
may be taken as a near criterion of the present,
as regards the localities specified and the general
quantity.

The surface drained into the outlets before
enumerated covers, in iu total area, about 7000
acres, of which nearly 3500 may be ckssed as
urban. The observations, moreover, were made
generally daring fine weather.

I cannot do better by way of showing the
reader the minuteness with which these observa-
tions were made, than by quoting the two follow-
ing results, being those of the fullest and smallest
discharges of twelve issues into the river. I must
premise that these experiments were made on
seven occasions, from May 4 to July 12 inclusive,
and made at different times, but generally about
eight houn after high water. In the Northumber-
land-street sewer, from which was the largest issue,
the width of the sewer at the outlet was five £eet
In the King-street sewer (the smallest discharge,
as gives in the second table) the width of Uie
sewer was four feet. The width, however, does
not affect the question, as there was a greater
issue from die Norfolk-street sewer of two foot,
than from the Kiog^treet sewer of four feet in
width.

NoBTHirxHisLAirD Stbxkt.

Data

VelocUy per

WOOQd.

QuanUty discharged
per second.

Feet-

Cubic Ftet.

May 4 .

» 9 .

June 5 .

„ 10 .

„ 11 .

,. 16 .
July 12 .

4-600
4000
4000
4-600
4-920
8-600
2-760

10-511000
6-800000
6-800000
10-850000
12-800000
5-940000
3*894800

56-095800

Being Mean Discharge per
second ....
Ditto per 24 houn .

8-018685
692382-

Knra Stbut.

M.y 4 .

•147

-021756

,. » .

•388

•079920

June 5 .

•170

-020400

„ 10 .

•8U

•064688

„ 11 .

•300

•048000

» 16 .

•101

•004040

July 12 .

•103

•008240

•247044

Mean Discha

rge per second .

•085292

Ditto

per 24 hours

•^ 3049-

Here we find that the mean discharge per
second was, from the North umberhuid-street
sewer, 692,882^ cubic feet per 24 hours, and from
the Kbg-street sewer, 3049 cubic fiset per 24
hours.

■ The discharge from the principal outlets in the
Westminster district "being the mean of seven
observations taken during the summer," was
1,798,094 cubic feet in 24 hours; the number of
acres drained was 7006. Th4 vuan dueharge
per acre, in the eourse qf 24 kowrt, traj fownd to
be about 256 euhk fed, ampriting the urban
and tuburbcm parte.

The sewage, from the discharge of which
this calcuhition was derived — and the dryness of
the weather must not be lost sight of-<may be
fairly assumed as derived (in a dry season) almost
entirely from artificial sources or house drainage,
as there was no rain-fiill, or but little. ** Sup-
posing, therefore" the Beport states, " the entire
turface to be urban, we have 540 cvlic feet as
the mean daily discharge per acre. If, however,
the average be taken of the first eight outlets,
viz., from Essex-street to Grosvenor-wharf in-
clusive, which drain a surfiu» wholly urban, the
result is 1260 cubic feet per acre in the 24 hours.
This excess may be attributed to the number of
manufactories, and the deasely-popukted natura
of the locality drained ; bat, as indicative of the
general amount of sewage due to ordinary urban
districts, the former ought perhaps to be con-
siderad the feixer awnge."

388

LONDON LABOUR AND TEE LONDON POOR.

It U then UBinined — I may lay officially^that
the average discharge of the urlran and luburban
sewage from the several districts included
within an area of 58 square miles, is equal to
256 cubic feet per acre.

Sq. Mikt.

The extent of the jurisdiction included
within this area is, on the north side of
the Thames . . . . . .43

And on the Surrey and Kent side . 15

Cubic Feet.

The ordinary daily amount of
sewage discharged into the river on
the north side is, therefore . . 7,045,120

And on the south side. . . 2,457,600

Making a total of . . 9,502,720

Or a quantity equivalent to a surface of more
than 36 acres in extent, and 6 feet in depth.

This mass of sewage, it must be borne in mind,
is but the daily product of the sewage of the more
populous part of the districts included within the
jurisdiction of the two commissions of sewers.

The foregoing observations, calculations, and
deductions have supplied the basis of many
scientific and commercial speculations, but it must
be remembered that they were taken between
seven and eight years ago. The observations
were made, moreover, during fine summer weather,
generally, while the greatest dlKharge is during
rainy weather. There has been, also, an increase
of sewers in the metropolis, because an increase of
streets and inhabited houses. The approximate
proportion of the increase of sewers (and there is
no precise account of it) is pretty nearly that of
the streets, lineally. Another mattter has too,
of late years, added to the amount of sewage —
the abolition of cesspoolage in a considerable do-
greee, owing to the late Building and Sanitary
Acts, so that foe&il and ctilinary matters, which
were drained into the cesspool (to be removed by
the nightmen), are now drained into the sewer.
Altogether, I am assured, on good authority, the
daily discharge of the sewers extending over 58
square miles of the metropolis may be now put at
10,000,000 cubic feet, instead of rather more
than nine and a half millions. And this gives, as

Cubic Feet.

The annual amount of discharge
from the sewers .... 3,650,000,000

The total amount of wet house-
refuse, according to the calculation
before given, is . . . . 3,820,000,000

Hence there remains

170,000,000

Sq. Milei.

Now it will be seen that the total area
from which this amount of sewage is said
to be drained is 58

l^ut the area of London, according to
the Registrar- General's limits, is . .115

So that the 3,650,000,000 cubic feet of sewage
annually removed from 58 square miles of the
metropolis refer to only one-half of the entire
area of the true metropolis ; but it refers, at the

same time, to that part of London which is the
most crowded with houses, and since, in the
suburbs, the buildings average about 2 to the
acre, and, in the densest paru of London, about
80, it is but fiiir to assume that the refuse
would be, at least, in the same proportion, and
this is veiy nearly the fiurt ; for if we suppose the
58 miles of the suburban districts to yield twenty
times less sewage than the 58 miles of the urban
districts, we shall have 182,500,000 cubic feet
to add to the 3,650,000,000 cubic feet before
given, or 3,832,500,000 for the sewage of the
entire metropolis.

It does not appear that the sewage has ever
been weighed so as to give any definite result,
but calculating from the weight of water (a gal-
lon, or 10 lbs. of water, comprising 277*274 cubic
inches, and 1 ton of liquid comprising 86 cubic
feet) the total, from the returns of the investiga-
tion in 1844, would be

Tods.

Quantity of sewage daily emptied
into the Thames .... 278,000

Ditto Annually . 101,390,000

In September, 1849, Mr. Banfield, at one thne
a Commissioner of Sewers, put the yeorlr quantitj
of sewage discharged into the Thuaes at
45,000,000 tons ; but this is widely at virianee
with the retuma as to quantity.

Of Ahohht Sbwkrs.

Tni traverser of the London atreets rardy
thinks, perhaps, of the hi extended sabtenuiem
architecture below his feet; yet such ia indeed
the case, for the sewers of London, with all their
imperfections, irregularities, and even absurdities,
are still a great work ; certainly not equal, in all
respects, to what once must have existed in Bome,
but second, perhaps, only to the giant works of
sewerage in the eternal city.

The origin of these Roman sewers seems to be
wrapped in as great a mystery as the foundation
of the city itself. The statement of the Roman his-
torians is that these sewers were the works of the
elder Tarquin, the fifth (apocryphal) king of Rome.
Tarquin's dominions, from the same accounts, did
not in any direction extend above sixteen miles,,
and his subjects could be but banditti, foragen,
and shepherds. One conjecture is, that Rome
stands on the site of a more ancient city, and that
to its earlier possessors may be attributed the
work of the sewers. To attribute them to the
rudeness and small population of Tarquin's day,,
it is contended, is as feasible as it would be to
attribute the ruins of ancient Jerusalem, or any
others in Asia Minor, to the Turks, or the ruins
of Palmyra to the Arabs, because these people
enjoy the privilege of possession.

The main sewer of Rome, the Cloaca Maxima,
is said to have been lofty and wide enough for a
waggon load of hay to pass clear along it. An-
other, and more probable account, however, states
that it was proposed to enlartfc the great sewer to
these dimensions, but it does not appear to have
been so enlarged. Indeed, when Augustus "made

THE SEWER-HUNTER.

iFront a Daguerreotype tv Braro.]

\

■i*!

).

''■!■;

M

LOITDON LABOUR AND THB LONDON P00&,

389

Rome marble/' it wm one of^ kif great works alao,
under the direction of Agrippa, to reconatmct, im-
prore, and enlarge the lewers. It wai a project
I in the days of Rome't greatneia to turn aeren
I navigable rivers into vast subterraiMoiu paaaagei,
I larger sewers, along which barges might pass,
carrying on the traffic of Imperial Rome. In one
I year the cost of cleanaing, renewing, and repairing
the sewers is stated to have been 1000 talents of
gold, or upwards of 192,000/. Of the average
yearly cost we have no information. Some ac-
counts represent these sewen as having been re-
built after the irmption of the Gauls. In Livy'a
time they were pronounced not to be acoomrao-
dated to the plan of Rome. Some portions of
these ancient stmctores are still extant, but they
seem to have attracted small notice even from pro-
fessed antiqiarians ; their sabtemmean character,
however, renders soch notice little possible. In
two places they are still kept in repair, and for
their original purpose, to carry off the filth of the
city, but only to a small extent

bur legislative enactments on the subject of
sewers are ancient and numerous. The oldest is
that of 9 Henry III., and the principal is that of
28 Henry YIIL, oommonly called the " SUtute of
Sewers." These and many subseqaent statutes,
however, relate only to iratercourMS, and are
silent as regards my present topio— the Refuse of
London.

It is remarkable how little is mad in th« Lon-
don historians of the setMrs. In the two folio
vohmies of the most searching and inde&tigable
of all the antiquarians who have described the
old metropolis, John Stow, the tailor, there is no
account of what we now consider sewers, inclosed
and snbterxancan channels for the conveyance of
the refuse filth of the metropolis to iu destination
— the Thames. Had covered sewers been known,
or at any rate been at all common, in Stow's day,
and he died full of years in 1604, and had one of
them presented but a crumbling stone with some
heraldic, or apparently heraldic, device at iU out-
let, Stow's industry would certainly have ferreted
out some details. Such, however, is not the case.
This absence of information I hold to be owing
to the fact that no such sewers then existed. Our
present system of sewerage, like our present sys-
tem of street-lighting, is a modem work; but it is
not, like our gas-hunps, an original English work.
We have but followed, as regards our arched and
subterraneous sewerage, in the wake of Rome.

As I have said, the early te« of sewers relate
to watercourses, navigable communications, dams,
ditches, and such like ; there is no doubt, how-
ever, that in the heart of the great towns the filth
of the houses was, by rude contrivances in the
way of drainage, or natural fiill, emptied into such
pUces. Even in the accounts of the sewers of
ancient Rome, historians have stated that it is
not easy, and sometimes not possible, to distin-
guish between the tevtn and the aqvitdneUy and
Dr. Lemon, in his English Etymology, speaks of
sewers as a species of aqueducts. So, in some of
our earlier AcU of Pariiament, it is hardly possible
to distinguish whether the provisions to be ap-

plied to the management of a sewer r^te to a
ditch to which nouse-filth was carried — to a
channel of water for general purposes — or to an
open channel being a receptacle of filtb and a
navigable stream at the same time.

That the ditches were not sewers for the con-
Teyance of the filth from the houses to any very
great, or rather any very general extent, may very
well be concluded, because (as I have shown in
my account of the early scavagers) the excremen-
titions matter vras deposited during the night in
the street, and removed by the proper function-
aries in the momins, or as soon as suited their
convenience. Though this vras the case generally,
it is evident that the filth, or a portion cKf it, from
tha houses which were built on the banks of tha
Fleet River (as it was then called, as well as the
Fleet Ditch), and on tke banks of the other
'* brooks," drained into tiie current stream. The
Corporation accounts contain very frequent mention
of the cleansing, purifying, and " thorough" cleans-
ing of the Fleet Ditch, the Old Bourne (Holbom
Brook), the Wall Brook, &e.

Of idl these streams the most remarkable was
Fleet Ditch, which was perhaps the first main
sewer of Lcmdon. I give from Stow the follow-
ing curious account of its origm. It is now open,
but only for a short distance, ofending the air of
Glerkenwell. At one period it was to afford a
defence to the City } as tha Tower-moat was a
defence to the Tower, and fortreM.

** The Ditch, which partly now lemaineth and
compassed the Wall of the City, was begun to be
made by the I^ondonert, in the year 1211, and
finished 1218, the 15th of E. John. This Ditch
being then made of 200 foot broad, caused no
small hindrance to the Canons of the Holy Trimdty,
whose Church stood near SaldgaJte, for that the
said Ditch passed through their Qround from the
Tover unto BishoptgaU,

" The first Occasion of making a Ditch about the
City seems to have been this : William, Bishop
of Bly, Chancellor of Bngland, in the Reign el
King Richard I., made a great Ditch round about
the Towr, for the better Defence of it against
JbAa the King's Brother, the King being then out
of the Realm. Then did the City also begin a
Ditch to encompass and strengthen their Walls
[which happened between the Years 1190 and
1198.] SotheBookDiMUAoni. Yet the Register
of Bermondsey writes that the Ditch was begun,
Oct 15, 1218, which was in the Reign of King
John that succeeded to Richard.

"This Ditch being originally made for the
Defence of the City, was also a long time together
carefully cleansed and maintained, as Need re-
quired; but now of late neglected, and forced
either to a very narrow, and the same a filthy
Channel.

" In the Year of ChriH, 1854, 28 Ed. 8, the
Ditch of this City flowing over the Bank into the
Towr-ditch, the King commanded the said Ditch
of the City to be cleansed, and so ordered, that
the overflowing thereof should not foree any Filtk
into the Tower-ditch,

** Anno, 1879, John Philpot, Maior of Z<msbm^

\

890

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

caused this Ditch to be cleanied, and erery
Hoosbold to pay 5d, which wai a Da/s Work
toward the Charges thereo£

"Ralph Joidine, Maior, 1477, caused the

whole Pitch to be cast and cleansed.

In 1519, the 10th of Henrj 8, for cleansing and
■cooring the common Ditch, between AldgaU,
and the Postern next the Tovtr-ditek ; the chief
Ditcher had bj the day 7c2., the Second Ditcher,
Oct, the other Ditchers, M, And erery Vagabond
(for as they were then termed) 1(2. the Day, Meat
and Drink, at the Charges of the City. Sum
952. d«. 4c2.

" Fleet Ditch was again cleansed in the Tear
1549," Stow continues, ** Htnry ^ncootdt being
Maior, at the Charges of the Companies. And
again 1569, the 11th of Queen Elizabeth ; for
cleaniing the same Ditch between Ealdgate and
the Fottem, and making a new Sewer and Wharf
of Timber, from the Head of the Pottem into the
Tover^iieh, 814/. 15t,Sd, (was disbursed). Before
the which Time the said Ditch lay open, without
either Wall or Pall, baring therein great Store of
Teiy good Fish, of divers Sorts, as many men yet
liring, who have taken and tasted them, can well
witness. But now no such matter, the Charge of
Cleansing is spared, and great Profit made by
letting out the Banks, with the Spoil of the whole
DitcL"

The above information appeared, but I am un-
able to specify the year (for Stow's works went
through sevend editions, though it is to be feared
he died very poor) between 1582 and 1590. So
did the following : —

" At this Day there be no Ditches or Boggs in
the City except the said FUet-dilcfi, but instead
thereof large common Drexns and Hearers, made to
carry away the water from the Postern-Gate,
between the two ToiKr-hilU to FUet-lyi-idge with-
out Ludgate.'*

Qreat, indeed, is the change in the character of
the capital of England, from the times when the
Fleet Ditch was a defence to the city (which was
then the entire capital) ; and from the later era,
when " great store of very good fish of divers sorts,"
rewarded the skill or the patience of the anglers
or netters ; but this, it is evident, was in the parts
near the river (the Tower postern, &c.), and at
that time, or about that time, tlierc was salmon-
fishing in the Thames, at least as far up as Hun-
gerford Wharf.

The Fleet Ditch seems always to have had a
Hwery character. It was described, in 1728, as

" The king of dykes ! than whom no sluice of mud
With deeper sable bloU the silver flood—"

the nlver flood being, in Queen Anne's and the
First George's days, the London Thames. This
silver has been much alloyed since that time.

Until within these 40 or 50 years, open sewer-
ditches, into which drains were emptied, and
ordure and refuse thrown, were frequent, espe-
cially in the remoter parts of Lambeth and New-
ington, and some exist to this day ; one especially,
open for a considerable distance, flowing along the
Mick of the houses in the Westminsterroad, on

the right-hand side towards the bridge, into
which the neighbouring houses are drained. The
"Black Ditch," a filthy sewer, until lately was
open near the Broadwall, and other Ticinities of
the Blackfriars-road. The open ditch-sewers of
Norwood and Wandsworth have often been
spoken of in Sanitary Reports. Indeed, some of
our present sewers, in addition to Fleet River
and Wall Brook, are merely ditches rudely arched
over.

The first covered and continuous street sewer
was erected in London — I think, without doubt-
when Wren rebuilt the capital, after the great
fire of 1666. Perhaps there is no direct evidence
of the fiict, for, although the statutes and Privy
Council and municipal enactments, consequent on
the rebuilding of the capital, required, more or leu
peremptorily, "fair sewers, and drains, and water-
courses," it is not defined in these enactments what
was meant by a " sewer;" nor were they carried
out

I may mention, as a further proof that open
ditches, often enough stagnant ditches also, were
the fint London sewers, that, after 1666, a phm,
originally projected, it appears, by Sir Leonard
Hidliday, Maior, 60 years previously, and stre-
nuously supported at that time by Nic Leate, "a
worthy and grave citizen," was revived and re-
considered. This project, for which Sir Leonard
and Nic Leate " laboured much," was " for a
river to be brought on the north of the city into
it, for the cleansing the sewers and ditches, aad
for the better keeping London wholesome, sweety
and clean." An admirable xniention ; and it is
not impossible nor improbable that in less than
two centuries hence, we, of the present sanitary
era, may be accounted, for our sanitary measures,
as senseless as we now account good Sir Leonard
Halliday and the worthy and grave Nic Leate.
These gentlemen cared not to brook filth in their
houses, nor to be annoyed by it in the nightly
pollution of the streets, but they advocated its in-
jection into running water, and into water often
running slowly and difficultly, and continuallv
under the eyes ond noses of the citizens. HV, I
apprehend, go a little further. We drink, and
use for the preparation of our meals, the befouled
water, which they did not ; for, more tlian seven-
eighths of our water-supply from the companies is
drawn from the Thames, the main sewer of the
greatest city in the world, ancient or modem,
into which millions of tons of every description of
refuse are swept yearly.

Of the Kinds and Characteristics of

SSWERS.

The sewers of London may be arranged into tvo
distinct groups — according to the aide of the
Thames on which they are situate.

Now the essential difference between these
two classes of sewers lies in the elevation of the
several localities whence the aewera carry the
refuse to the Thames.

The chief differences in the drcamstances of
the people north and south of the rirer are shovB

LOJSTDOHr LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOIL

891

in the annexed taUe from the Segistni^General'a
retornt : —

North

South

lideof

■ideof

London.

Um

the

Hirer.

River.

KleTEtion of the noimd,
in feet, above Trinity

high- water mark

89

51

5

Density, or nnmber of

penons to an acre.

1849 . . .

80

52

14

Deaths from Cholera to

10,000 persons living.

in 60 weeks, endi^

Nor. 24, 1849 .

66

44

127

Deaths from all canset

^ annually to 10,000

persons (5000 males.

5000 females) Uving,

during the 7 years.

1888-44 . .

252

251

257

Here, it will be seen, that while the houses on
the north side of the river stand, on an avenge,
51 feet above the high-water mark of the Thames,
those on the south side are only 5 feet above it
The effect of this is shown most particnlariy in
the deaths from cholera in 1849, which were
nearly three times as many on the south as on the
north side of the Thames. It is said, officially,
that "of the 15 square miles of the Urban
district on the south side of the river Thames,
three miles are frvm six to seven feet below high-
water mark, so that the locality may be said to be
drained only for four hours out of the twelve, and

during these four hours very imperfectly

When the tide rises above the orifices of the
sewers, the whole drainage of the district is
stopped until the tide reMdes again, rendering
the whole system of sewers in Kent and Surrey
only an artioiiaUon qf ceupoolt"

That this is but the feet, the following table of
the elevation in feet above the Trinity high-water
mark, as regards the several districts on the Surrey
side of the Thames, may be cited as eridence.

El«va- Eleva-

tion, tion.

28 St. Olave . . 2
22 Bermondsey . 0
8 Botherhithe . 0
4 St George's (South-
8 wark) . . 0

St Saviour (South* Newington (below

wark) . . 2 high water) . 2

From these returns, made by Capt Dawson,
B.E., the difficulty, to use no stronger word,
attending the sewerage of the Surrey district is
shown at once. There is no flow to be had, or —
the word more generally used, no nm for the
sewage. In parts of the north of England it used
to be a general, and still is a partial, saying
among country-people who are figuratively de-
scribing what tney account impossible. " Ay,
wheni Wkm water nins up bank." This is a

Lewisham.
Wandsworth
Greenwich.
Gamberwell

homely expression of the difiknltief attending the
Surrey sewerage.

There is, as regards these Surrey, more than
the Kent, sewers, another evil which promotes
the "articuUtion of cesspools." Some of Uiese
sewers have " dead-ends," like phioes which in the
streets (a parallel case enough) are known as ** no
thofoughfere,'* and in these sewers it is seldom, in
any state of the tide, that flushing can be re-
sorted to ; consequently these cesspool-like sewers
remain uncleansed, or have to be cleansed by
manual labour, the matter being drawn up into
the street or road.

The refuse conduits of the metropolis are of two
kinds: —

1. Sewerk

2. Drains.

These two dasses of refuse-charts are often
confounded, even in some official papers, the
sewer being there designated the ''main drain."
All sewerage is undoubtedly drainage, but there
is a manifest distinction between a sewer and a

The First-GIaM Sewers, which are generally
termed " main sewers," and run alons the centres
of the first^ass streets (first-class al&e from the
extent or populousness of such streets), may be
looked upon as underground rivers of refuse, to
which the drains are tributary rivulets. No
sewer exists unconnected with the drains from the
streets and houses; but many house-drains are
constructed apart from the sewers, communicating
only with the cesspools. Even where houses are
built in dose contiguity to a public sewer, and
built after the new mode without cesspools, there
is always a drain to the sewer; no house so
situated can get rid of its refuse except by means
of a drain ; unless, indeed, the house be not
drained at all, and its filth be flung down a gully-
hole, or got rid of in some other way.

These drains, all with a like determination,
differ only in their forms. They are barrel-shaped,
made of rounded bricks, or earthenware pipeage,
and of an interior between a round and an oval,
with a diameter of from 2 to 6 inches, although
only a few private houses, comparatively, are
so drained. The barrel drain of larger dimen-
sions, is used in the newer public buildings and
larger public manrions, when it represents a sort
of house or interior sewer as well as a house main
dram, for smaller drains find their issue into the
barrel-drain. There is the barrel-drain in the new
Houses of Parliament, and in large places which
cover the site o( and are required for the purposes
of sevmd houses or offices. The tubukr drain is
simply piping, of which I have spoken fully in
my account of the present compulsory mode of
house drainage. The third drain, one more used
to carry refuse to the cesspool than the sewer, but
still carrying such refuse to jthe sewers, is the old-
feshioned bnck drain, generally 9 inches square.

I shall first deal with the sewerage, and then
with the house and street drainage.

The sewer is a twofold ree^ptade of refuse ;
into it are conveyed the wet refuse not only of
many of the houses, but of all the streets.

894

LOXDOX LABOUR AND THE LOyDON POOR.

I

manyfold bj iu connection with the house-
draini.

There it no map of the general lewenge of the
metropolis, merely " sections " nnd " plans" of
improvements making or suggested, in the reports
of the surveyors, &c., to the Commissioners ; but
did a map of subterranean London exist, with its
lines of every class of sewerage and of the drain-
age which feeds the sewers; with iU course,
moreover, of gas-pipes and water-pipes, with their
connection with the houses, the strcoU, the courti,
&c.. it would be the most curious and skeleton-
like map in the world.

Of tde Subterbaxsax Character op tue
Sewers.

Ix my inquiries among that curious body of men,
the " Sewer Hunters,** I found them make light
of any danger, their principal fear being from the
attacks of rats in case they became isolated from
the gang with whom they searched in common,
while they represented the odour as a mere no-
thing in the way of unpleasantness. But these
men pursued only known and (by them) beaten
tracks at low water, avoiding any deviation, and
■0 becoming but partially acquainted with the
character and direction of the sewers. And bad
it been otherwise, they are not a class competent
to describe what they saw, however keen -eyed
after silver spoons.

The following account is derived chiefly from
official sources. I may premise that where the
deposit is found the greatest, the sewer is in the
wont atate. This deposit, I find it repeatedly
stated, is of a most miscellaneous character. Some
of the sewers, indeed, are represented as the
dust-bins and dung-hills of the immediate neigh-
bourhood. The deposit has been found to com-
prise all the ingredients from the breweries, the
gas-works, and the several chemical and mineral
manu^tories ; dead dogs, cats, kittens, and rats ;
offal from shiughter-houses, sometimes even in-
cluding the entrails of the animals; street-pave-
ment dirt of every variety ; vegetable refuse ;
stable-dung ; the refuse of pig-styes ; night-soil ;
ashes ; tin kettles and pans (pansherds) ; broken
stoneware, as jars, pitchers, flower-pots, &c. ;
bricks; pieces of wood; rotten mortar and rub-
bish of different kinds; and even rags. Our
criminal annals of the previous century show
tliat often enough the bodies of murdered men
were thrown into the Fleet and other ditches,
then the open sewers of the metropolis, and if
found washed into the Thames, they were so
stained and disfigured by the foulness of the con-
tents of these ditches, that recognition was
often impossible, so that there could be but one
verdict returned — "Found drowned." Clothes
stripped from a murdered person have been, it
was authenticated on several occasions in Old
Bailey evidence, thrown into the open sewer
! ditches, when torn and defaced, so that they
might not supply evidence of identity. So clo»e
is the connection between physical fllthiness in
public matten and moral wickedness.

The following particuUrs show the charac-

teristics of the underground London of tlie nwen.
The subterranean surveys were made after the
commission! were consolidated.

" An old sewer, running between GmU Smitk-
street and St. Ann-street (Wettminater), is a
curiosity among lewen, althongh it ii probably
only one instance out of many aimilar eanitme-
tions that will be diMovered in the eonne of the
subterranean survey. The bottom ia formed of
planks laid upon transverse timben, 6 inches by
6 inches, about 3 feet apart The aiae of the
lewer varies in width frnm 2 to 6 feet, and
from 4 to 5 feet in height. The *''*^^^*H*
ot the bottom is Tery irregnlar : there are jnnpi
up at two or three places, and it contains a de-
posit of filth averaging 9 inches in depth, the
sickening smell from which escapes into the
houses and yards that drain into it In

places the side walls have given way for lengthi
of 10 and 15 feet Across this sewer timbcn
have been laid, upon which the external waU of ■
workshop has .been built ; the timben are in a
decaying state, and should they giTO way, thi
wall will fiill into the sewer.**

From the further accounts of this sorvey, I find
that a sewer from the Westminster Woikbonsi^
which was of all shapes and sixes, was in m
wretched a condition tliat the lereller eoild
scarcely work for the thick scum that coveiedjlhi
ghtfses of the spirit-level in a few minutes aft«
being wiped. "At the outfall into the Dssih
street sewer, it is 3 feet 6 inches by 2 fest 8
inches for a short length. From the end of ^tk,
a wide sewer branches in each direction at right
angles, 5 feet 8 inches by 5 feet 5 inches.^ As*
ceeding to the eastward about 30 feet, a chamba
is reached about 30 feet in length, from the roof
of which hangings of putrid matter Hie ttalac-
tlUs descend threi ftH in Untfth, At the end of
this chamber, the sewer passes under the public
privies, the ceilings of which can be seen firom it.
Beyond this it is not possible to go.'*

''In the Lucas-street sewer, where a portion d

\ new work begins and the old terminates, a space

of about 10 feet has been covered with boardi^

which, having broken, a dangerous chasm hsi

been caused immediately under the road.**

" The West-street sewer had one foot of d^
posit It was flushed while the levelling party
was at work there, and the stream vras so n|d
that it nearly i^iished them away, instrument ini
all."

There are further accounts of " deposit," or of
" stagnant filth,** in other sewers, varying from 6
to 14 inches, but that is insignificant compared to
what follows.

The foregoing, then, is the piih of the fiift
authentic account which has appeared in print of
the actually surveyed condition of the snbttf-
ranean ways, over which the super-terraiMn
tides of traflic are daily flowing.

The account I have just given relates to the
(former) Westminster and part of Middlesex di^
trict on the north bank of the Thames, u asoer
tained under the Metropolitan ConuaisiioB. I
now give some extracts concerning a

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

895

snrrej on the watb bsnk, in diffisrent and distant
direetioni in the district, once the " Sonrej and
Kent." The Westminster, &e., sorvey took place
in 1848 ; the Kent and Surrey in 1849. In the
one case, 72 miles of sewers were snnreyed ; in
the other, 69| miles.

"The snryeyors ^ the Surrey and Kent
•ewers) And great difficulty in levelliog the
sewers of this district (I give tiie words of the
Report); for, in the first place, the deposit is
Hiially about two feet in depth, and in some
cases it amounts to nearly five feet of putrid mat-
ter. The smell is usually of Uie most horrible
description, the air being so foul that explosion
and choke damp are Tory frequent On the 12th
January we were very nearly losing a whole party
by choke damp, the fast man being dragged out
on his back (through two feet of bbuk foetid
deposito) in a state of insensibility. .... Two
men of one party had also a narrow escape from
drowning in the Alscot-road sewer, Rotherhithe.

" The sewers on the Surrey side are very irre-
gular; even where they are inverted they fre-
quently have a number of steps and inclinations
tiia reverse way, causing the deposit to accumulate
m ttcngated cittpooU,

** It must be considered very fortunate that the
•ubterranean parties did not first commence on
the Surrey side, for if such had been the case, we
should most undoubtedly have broken down.
When compared with Westminster, the sewers are
mailer and more fiill of deposit ; and, bed as the
smell is in the sewers in Westminster, it is infi-
nitely worse on the Surrey side."

Sereral details are then given, but they are
only particuhus of the general het§ I have stated.

The following, however, are distinct &cts con-
eemiqg this branch of the subject

In my inquiries among the working scavagers
I often heard of their emptying street slop into
eewen, and^the following extract shows that I was
not misinformed : —

" The detritus from the macadamized roads
frequently forms a kind of grouting in the sewers
■0 hard that it cannot be removed without hand
labour.'

" One of the sewers in Whitehall and another in
Spring-gardens have from three to four feet of
this sort of deposit ; and another in Eaton-square
was found filled up within a few inches of the
'soffit,' but it is supposed that the scavengers
(scavagers) emptied the road-sweepings down the
gully-gtate in this instance;" and in other in-
ftances, too, there is no doubt — especially at
Charing Gnns, and the Regent Circus, Piccadilly.

Concerning the sewerage of the most aris-
tociatic ports of the city of Westminster, and of
the fiuhionable squares, &c., to the north of Ox-
ford-street, I glean the following particulars
(reported in 1849). They show, at any rate,
that the patrician quarters have not been unduly
&voured ; that there has been no partiality in the
construction of the sewerase. In the Belgrave
and Eaton-sqnare districts l^ere are many &ulty
places in the sewers which abound with noxious
matter, in many instances stopping up the house

drains and " smelling horribly." It is much tlie
same in the Grosvenor, Hanover, and Berkeley-
square localities (the houses in the squares them-
selves included). Also in the neighbourhood of
Govent-garden, Clare-market, Soho and Fitzroy-
squares ; while north of Oxford-street, in and
about Cavendish, Bryanstone, Manchester, and
Portman-squares, there is so much rottenness and
decay that there is no security for the sewers
standing from day to day, and to flush them for
the removal of their "most loathsome deposit"
might be "to bring some of them down alto-
ge&er."

One of the accounts of a subterranean survey
concludes with the following rather curious state-
ment:— "Throughout the new Paddington dis-
trict the neighbourhood of Hyde Park Gardens,
and the oosUy squares and streets adjacent, the
sewers abound with the foulest deposit, from
which the most disgusting effluvium arises; in-
deed, amidst the whole of the Westminster Dis-
trict of Sewers the only little spot which can be
mentioned as being in at all a satisfiictory state is
the Seven Dials."

I may point out also that these very curious
and authenticated accounts by no means bear out
the zymotic doctrine of the Board of Health as
to the cause of cholera ; for where the zymotic
influences from the sewers were the worst, in the
patrician squares of what has been called Bel-
gravia and Tybumia, the cholera was the least
destructive. This, however, is no reason what-
ever why the stench should not be stifled.

OV TRS HoUBE-DbAIKAOI Of THB MSTBOFOLIS
▲S OOMnOTSD WITH THB SXWZBS.

Evert house built or rebuilt since the passing of
the Metropolitan Sewers Act in 1848, must be
drained, with an exception, which I shall specify,
into a sewer. The law, indeed, divested of its
technicalities is this : the owner of a newly-
erected house must drain it to a sewer, without
the intervention of a cesspool, if there be a sewer
within 100 feet of the site of the house ; and, if
necessary, in places but partially built over, such
owner must continue the sewer along the pre-
mises, and make the necessary drain into it ; all
being done under the approval of the proper
officer under the Commissioners. If there be,
however, an established sewer, along the side,
front, or back of any house, a covered drain must
be made into that at the cost of the owner of the
premises to be drained. " Where a sewer," says
the 46th section of the Act, "shall ahready be
made, and a drain only shall be required, the
party is to pay a contribution towards the original
expense of the sewer, if it shall have been made
within thirty-five years before the 4th of Septem-
ber, 1848, 'the contribution to be paid to the

builder of the sewer." "In cases where

there shall be no sewer into which a drain could
be made, the party must make a covered drain to
lead into a cesspool or other place (not under a
house) as the Commissioners may direct If the
parties infringe this rule, the Commissioners may

\

396

LONDOX LABOUR AND THE LOSDOX POOR.

do the work and throw the cost on them in the
nature of an improvement rate, or as charges for
defiiult, and Ie\7 the amount by diBtress."

I mention theac circnmBtances more particularly
to show the extent, and the far-continued ramitica-
tion, of the subterranean metropolis. I am
Buured by one of the Lirgcst builders in the
western district of the capital that the new regu-
lations (as to the dispensing with cesspools) are
readily complied with, as it is a recommendation
which a house agent, or any one letting new pre-
mises, is never slow to advance (" and when it 's
the truth," he said, " they do it with a better
grace "), that there will be in the course of occupancy
no annoyance and no expense incurred in the cleac^
ing nway of ci-sspoolage.

I shaJl at preKnt describe only the house-
drainage, which is connected with the public
sewerage. The old mode of draining a house
separately into the cesspool of the premises will,
of course, be described under the head of cess-
poolage, and that old system is still very pre-
valent.

At the times of passing both general and local
Acts concerning buildings, town improvements and
extensions, the erection of new streets and the
removal of old, much has been said and written
concerning better systems of ventilating, warming,
and draining dwelling-houses ; but until after the
first outbreak of cholera iu Engbnd, in 1S32,
little public attention was given to the great
drainage of all the sewers. However, on the
passing of tho Building and Sanitary Acts gene-
rally, the authorities made many experiments,
not so much to improve the system of sewerage
iis of house drainagi', so as to make the dwelling-
housi-s inorf wholesome and sweet.

To elTect this, the great object was the aboli-
tion of the cessp«>ol system, under which tilth
must accumulate, and where, from scamped build-
ings or other causes, evaporation took place, the
ettects of the system were found to be vile and
offensive, and have been pronounced miasmatic.
Having jujit alluded to these mutters, I pri>ceed to
describe the modemly-adopted connection of
house- drainage and street-sewerage.

Ex{)erimcnts, as I have said, were set un foot
under the auspices of public bodies, and the
opinions of eminent engineers, architect.**, and
surveyors were also taken. Their opinions seem
really to be concentrated in tlie advocacy of nne
remedy - improved house -drainage ; and they
appear to have agreed that the system which is
at present adopted is, under the circumstances, the
best that can be adopted.

I w;is tuld also by an eminent practical builder,
perfectly uncounected with any official or public
body, and, indeed, often at issue with surveyors,
«SlC., that the new system was unquestionably a
great improvement iu every respect, and that
some years before its adoption as at present he
had abetted such a system, and had carried it
into eifect when he could properly do so.

I will timt show the mode and then the cost of
the new system.

I find it designated " bwk," " firont," " tubu-

lar," and " pipe " house-dninage, and all with the
object of carrying off all tecei. Mil wvter, tern-
pool matter, &c., before it has bad time to un-
mulate. It is not by brick or other draini of
masonry that the system ia carried out or is n>
commended to be carried out^ but by meant of
tubular earthenware pipes ; and ibr any effideut
carrying out of the projected improvement a
system of constant, and not as at present inttr^
mtUent, supply of water from the several eam-
pauies would be best. These pipes communioOe
with the nearest sewer. Tho pipes in the
tubukr drainage are of zed earthenware or stone-
ware (pot).

The use of earthenware, clay, or pot pipes Cor
the conveyance of liquids ii very ancient. Mr.
Stirrat, a bleacher in Paisley, in a statement is
the Board of Health, mentioned that clay pipa
were used in ancient times. King Hesebih
(2nd Book of Kings, chap. 20, and 2nd Book sf
(,'hronicles, chap. 32) brought in water from Je-
rusalem. " His pool and conduit," said Mr.
Stirrat, "are still to be seen. The condoit ii
three feet square inside, built of frrriif ^
strongly cemented ; the stone, fifteen inches thii^
evidently intended to sustain a considerable pR*-
sure ; and I have seen pipes of clay, taken by s
friend from a house in the ruins of the andstt
city, of one inch bore, and about seven inches ia
diameter, proving evidently, to my mind, thtt
ancient Jerusalem was supplied with water m
the principle of gravitation. The pools or »
sorvoirs are also at this day in tolerably good
order, one of them itill filled with water; the
other broken down in the centre, no doubt by
some besieging enemy, to cut olF the supply ts
the city."

The new system to supply the place of the
cesspools is a cuiabinal, while the old is princi-
pally a it'jiarakt system of house-drainage; but
the new system is equally available for watk
separate drainage.

As regards the success of this system the re-
ports say experiments have been tried in so isntt
a number of houses, under such varied and, m
many cases, disadvantageous circumstances, that
no doubts whatsoever can remain iu the uiind» of
competent and disinterested persous as to cIm
etticient selfcleanaing action of w^ell-adjuited
tubular drains and sewers, even without any addi-
tional supplies of water.

Mr. Lovick said : —

''A great number of small 4-inch tubular dniai
have been laid down in the sovenil distnits, s-ime
for considerable periods. They have bet^n fou.'id
to keep themselves clear by the ordinary soii and
dniinago waters of the houses. I have no doubt
that pipes of this kind will keep themselves c\tu
by the ordinary discharge of house-drainacf :
assuming, of course, a supply of water, pipes ot
good form, and materials properly laid, and r.it
fair usage."

" One of the earliest illustrations of the tuliular
system," it is stated in a Report of the B^«rd o:
Health, " was given in the improved drainage oi s
block of houses in the cloisters of \Vesiffi!fiiter.

LONDOir LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

897

which had been the teat of a MTere epidemic fever.
The cesspool! and the old draina wen filled up,
and an entire tyttem of tubular drainage and
sewerage substituted for the serrice of that block
of hnuset.

" The Dean of Westainiter, in a letter on the
state of this dntinage, aajs, ' I beg to report to
the Commissioners that the success of the entire
new pipe-drainage laid down in St. Peter's Col-
lege during the last twelve montha has been com-
plete. I consider this experiment on draioage
and sewage of about fifteen houses to a£furd a
triumphant proof of the efficacy of draining by
pipes, and of the fiicility of dupensing entirely
with cesspcoh and brick seKert.* Up to this time
they have acted, and continue to act, perfectly.

" Mr. Morris, a surveyor attached to the Me-
tropolitan Sewen Commission, gives the following
account of the action of trial works of improved
house-drainage : —

*' ' I have introduced the new 4-inch tubular
house-drains into some houses for the trustees of
the parish of Poplar, with water-closets, and have
received no just cause of comphunt. In every
instance where I have applied it, I found the
system answer extremely well, if a sufficient
quantity of water has been used.

'* * The answer of the householders as to the
effect of the new drainage has invariably been
that they and their fiunilies have been better in
hedth; that they were formeriy annoyed with
snelU and effluvia, firom which they are now
qmte free.

** * Since the new drainage has been laid down
there has been only occasion to go on the ground
to examine it once for the whole year, and that
was from the inefikiency of the water service.
It waa found that lags had been thrown down
and had got into the pipe ; and further, that very
little water had been used, so that the stoppage
waa the fisult of the tenant, not of the system.' "

]lr. €k>tto, the engineer, having stated that in
a plan for the improvement of Goulston-street,
Whitechapel, not only was the removal of all
caaspools contemplated, but also the substitution
of water^loset apparatus, gave the following esti-
mate of the cott, provided the pipes were made
and the work done by contract under the Com-
misMonera of Sewers :—

WaUr<lotet Apparatut, Jbc.

£ t. d.

Emptying, &c., cesspool . 0 12 0

Digging,.&c, for 8-£set pipe drain,
ni4d. 0 2 8

Making good to vralls and floor of
water<loset over drain, at 8<2. .020

8 foet run of 4-inch pipe, AtZd. 0 2 0

Laying ditto, at 2<i. , . .014

Bxtra for junction . .004

Fixing ditto . . . .002

Water^oset apparatus, with stool
cock 0 10 0

Fixing ditto . . . .020

Contingcndet (10 per cent) .036

1 16 0

No. XLIX.

£ t. d.

Brought forward , 1 16 0

The yard sink and drain would

cost 0 11 2

Kitchen sink and drain . . 0 15 71

So that the .cost of beiel draining
one house, including water-closet,
would be 8 2 9^

The front tubular drainage of a similar house
(with fifteen yards of carriage-way to be paved)
would cost 6/. 2s. 7 id, ; or the drainage wouki
cost, according to the old system, 11^ ISi. 11<;.

"The engineering witnesses who have given
their special attention to the subjecC atate the
Board of Health, in commenting on the infor^
niatiou I have just cited, " affirm that upon the
improved system of combined works the expense
of the apparatus in substitution of cesspools would
not greatly exceed one-ha/f the ezpenn of cleaning
the cesspools."

The engineers have calculated — stating the
difficulty of coming to a nice calculation — that
the present system of cesspools entailed an average
expenditure, for cleansing and repairs, of id, a
week on each householder ; and that by the new
system it would be but l^d. The Board oi
Health's calculations, however, are, I regret to
say, always dubious.

The subjoined scale of the difference in cost waa
prepared at the instance of the Board.

Mr. Grant took four blocks of houses for exa>
mination, and the results are given as a guide to
what would be the general expenditure if the
change took place : —

** In one block of 44 houses —

The length of drains by back drainage waa

1544 feet
Cost (exclusive of pans, traps, and water in

both cases) of back drainage, 83/. 12s., or

1/. ISs. per house.
Cost of separate tubular drainage, 467/. ds. 6d.,

or 10/. 12*. 6d. per house.
Cost of separate brick drains, 910/. 19s., or''

20/. 14*. Id. per house.

" In another block of 28 houses —

The length of back drains was 783 feet

Of separate drains, 1437 feet

The cost of beck tubular drains, 45/. 12«. 6c/.,

or 1/. 19s. 8<i. per house.
Of separate tubular drains, 131/. 13«. 6d., or

5/. 149. M. per house.
Of separate brick drains, d05/.7<.,or 13/. 5s.6<2.

per house.

" In another block of 46 houses —

The length of back drainage, 1143 feet

Ditto by separate ditto, 1892 feet

The cost of back tubular drainage, 66/. 5s, 2d.,

or 1/. Ss. 9}</. per house.
Ditto of separate ditto ditto, 178/. 19«. Sd,,

or 3/. 17«. lOd. per house.
Ditto of separate brick ditto, 390/. 4<., or

8/1 9«. Sd, perhonse.

\

39S

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

" In a fourth block of 46 houses—
The length of back drains, 9S5 feet.
I)itto of separate ditto, 2913 feet.
Cost of Kick tubular drainage, GO/. 8j». 2<r,

or 1/. 85. 10* rf. per house.
Ditto of M-parate ditto ditto, 202/. 11*. 7rf.,

or Ktl. 14*. 27. per housp.
Ditto of separate brick ditto, 014/. 1G.». 3<?.,
or 13/. 7*. 3irf. per house.*'
I have mentioned the diversity of opinion as to
the best form, and even material, for a sewer;
and there is the tame diversity as to the material,
&c., for house and gully or street-drainage, more
especially in the pipes of the larajcr volume. The
pipe-dniiiinge of any description is far less in
favour tl.an it was. One reason is that it docs
not promote subsoil drainage.; another is the
difficulty of repairs if the joints or fittings of
pipes require mending; and then the combina-
tion of the noxious gases is most offensive in its
ezhaktions, and difficult to overcome.

I was informed by a nightnmn, used to the
cleansing of drains and to night-work gi-nerally,
that when there was any escape from one of the
tubular pipes the stench was more intense than any
he liad ever bttfore experienced from any drains on
the old system.

Of tub Londox Stueet-Draix?.

Wk have as yet dealt only with the means of
removing the liquid refuse from the houses of the
metropolis. This, as was pointed out at the
commencement of the present subject, consists
principally of the 19,000,000.000 gallons of
water that are annually pupplied to the London
residences by mechanical means. IJiit there
still remain the 5,00U,000,000 gallons of surface
or rain-water to be carried off from the 1700
miles of 8trect% and the roofs and yards of the
300,000 houses which now form the liritish
metropolis. If this immense volume of liquid
were not immediately removed from our ihorou^'h-
farcs as fast as it fell, many of our streets would
not only be transformed into canals at certam
periods of the year, but perhaps at all limes
(except during drought) thoy would be, if not
inipassablr, at least unpleasant and unhealthy,
from the puddles or small pools of staifiiant
water that would be continually rotting them.
"NVore such the case, the roads and streets that
we now pride ourselves so highly upon would
have lh<ir foundations soddencd. "If the sur-
face of a road be not kept ch'an so as ti> admit of
its becoming dry between showers of rain," y.wA
Lord Ctuigleton, the great road authority, *• it
will be rapidly worn away." Indeed the imme-
diate removal of rain-water, so ns to prevent i*.s
percolating through the surface of the road, ar.i
thor.l.y impairing the foundation. apj)ear8 to li*
one of the main essentials of road-makintj.

The means of removing this surface waf-r,
especially from the streets of a city where tli-
rain falls at lea.st every other day throughout the
year, and reaches an aggregate depth of 24 ffft
in the course of the twelvemonth, is a matter of

considerable moment In Paris, and indeed al-
most all of the French towns, a channel is fbnned
in the middle of each thorough&re, and down
this the water from the streets and houses is con-
tinually coursing, to the imminent peril of all
pedestrians, for the wheels of every Tehicle dis-
tribute, as it goes, a muddy shower on either side
of the way.

HV, however, have not only remoTed the chan-
nels from the middle to the sides of onr streets,
but instituted a distinct system of drainage for
the conveyance of the wet refuse of oor
houses to the sewers — so that there are no longer
(excepting in a very small portion of the subuihi)
open sewers, meandering through our highways;
the consequence is, the surface-water being ca^
ried off from our thoroughfares almost as htX oi
it falls, our streeU are generally dry and clean.
That there are exceptions to this rule, which are a
glaring disgrace to us, it must be candidly ad-
mitted; but we muht at the same time allow,
when we think of the vast extent of the road-
ways of the metropolis (17C0 miles ! — nearly
one-half the ndius of the earth itsdO* the
deluge of water that annually descends upon
every inch of the ground which we call Londoo
(38,000,«)00,000 pdlons !— a quantity which it
almost sufficient for the formation of an Americn
lake^, and the vast amount of traffic, over the
greater part of the capital — the 13,000 vehidH
that daily cross London Bridge, the 11,000 coo*
veyances that traverse Cheapside in the cooiw of
twelve hours, the 7700 that go through Temple
Bar, and the 6900 that ascend and descend Hol-
bom Hill between nine in the morning and nine at
night, the 1500 omnibuses and the 3000 cabriolets
that are continually hurrying from one part of tb«
town to another, and the lu,(»00 private carriage,
job, and cart horses that incessantly ptriiaU the
metropolis— when we reflect, I say, on this vast
amount of traflic — this dflnjje of rain — and the
wildeniess of streets, it cannot but be allowed
' that the cleansing and draining of the London
thoroughfares is most admirably conducted.

The mode of street drainage is by menus of
what is called a gully-hole and a pully-drain.

Tht (/fill '/'hole* is the opening from the surftre
of the street (and is seen generally on each «ide
of the way), into which all the fluid refuse of the
public thoroughfares nms on it* course to th«» sewer.

T/iK UnUit-draiii is a drain generally of earthen-
ware piping, curving from the side of the strwt
to nn opening in the top or side of the sewer, and
is the means of communication between tlie sewer
and th«* gully- hole.

The gully-hole is indicated by an iron gnt<?
being fitted into the surface of the side of a f^^t-
path, where the road ^lopos gradually from its
centre to the edge of ih«* footpath, and down thi?
grate the water nr.is in:.) the channel cuitnved

* (•'i'//// hero i; a comintion of the wonl G»fc.W. or
tliroat ; iho Nonnaii is v'm. '.. L.ii. vuhi), ami th*- KreiKh.
enuirt; fn>m this the woril ptiUff up|N>ar!i to \ye directly
dt'rive<l. A c-»/%-drain \* iitiTHlIy a <m//«>f -drain, ihit J*.
a drain m-rvinj; the purjK) (^ ot a gullet or channt-I f<i«'
I liquidf, and a gulty-hnle the mouth, orifice, or
to iYic gullet or Rully-draJn.

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR,

399

for it in the eonitmction of the itreeti. These
ffuUy-grates, the observant pedestrian — ^if there
be n man in Uiis hive of London who, without
professional attraction to the matter, regards for a
few minutes the peculiarities of the street (apart
from the houses) which he is traversing — an ob-
senrant pedestrian, I say, would be struck at the
constantly-recurring grates in a given space in
some streets, and their paucity in others. In
Drury-lane there is no guUy-grate, as you walk
down from Holbom to where Drury-lane becomes
Wych-street ; whilst in some streets, not a tenth
of the length of Drury-lane, there may be three,
four, five, or six grates. The reason is this : —
There is no sewer running down Drury-lane; a
contiguous sewer, however, runs down Great
Wyld-street, draining, where there are drains, the
hundred courts and nooks of the poor, between
Drury-lane and Lincoln's-inn-fields, as well as the
more open places leading down towards the prox-
imity of Temple Bar. This Great Wyld-street
■ewer, moreover^ in its course to Fleet Bridge, is
made available for the drainage (very grievously
deficient, according to some of the reporu of the
Board of Health) of Clare-market Grates would
of course be required in such a place as Drury-lane,
only the street is thought to be sufficiently on the
descent to convey the surface-water to the grate
in Wych-street.

The parts in which the gully-grates will be
found the most numerous are where the main
streets are most intersected by other main streets,
or by smaller off-streets, and indeed wherever the
Streets, of whatever size, continually intersect each
other, as they do off nearly all the great street-
thoroughfares in the City. Although the sewers
nay not be according to the plan of the streets,
the gully-grates must nevertheless be found at the
street intersections, whether the nearest point to
the sewer or not, or else the water would not be
quickly carried off, and would form a nuisance.

I am informed, on good authority, both as re-
gards the City and Metropolitan Commissions,
that the average distance of the guUy-grates is
thirty yards one from another, including both sides
of the way. Their number docs not depend upon
population, but simply on the local characteristics
of the highways ; for of course the rain falls into
all the streeu in proportion to their size, whether
populous or half-empty localities. As, however,
the more distant roads have not such an approxi-
mation of grates, and the law which requires their
formation is by no means — and perhaps, without
unnecessary interference, cannot be — very definite,
I am informed that it may fairly be represented,
that, of the 1760 miles of London public ways,
more than two-thirds, "or" remarked one inform-
ant, " say 1200 miles, are grated on each side of
the street or road, at distances of sixty yards."
This would give 59 gully-holes in every one of the
1200 miles of street said to be so supplied. Hence
the total number throughout the metropolis will
be 70,800.

The guU}f-drain, which is the street-drain, al-
ways presents now a sloping curve, describing,
more or less, part of a circle. This drain starts,

so to speak, from the side of the street, while its
course to the sewer, in order to economize space,
is made by any most appropriate curve, to include
the reception of as great a quantity of wet street-
refuse as possible; for if the gully-drains were
formed in a direct, or even a not-very-indirect line,
from the street sides to the sewers, they would not
only be more costly, more numerous, but would,
in fact, as I was told, " choke the under-ground "
of London, for now the subterranean capital is so
complicated with gas, water, and drain-pipes, that
such a system as will allow room for each is in-
dispensable. The new system is, moreover, more
economical. In the City the gully-drains are nearly
all of nine-inch diameter in tubular pipeage. In
the metropolitan jurisdiction they are the same,
but not to the same extent, some being only six
inches.

Fifty, or even thirty years ago, the old street
channels for gully drainage were costly construc-
tions, for they were made so as to suit sewfers
which were cleansed by the street being taken
*^ up," and the offensive deposit, thick and even
indurated as it often was in those days, drawn to
the surface. Some few were three and even four
feet square; some two feet six inches wide, and
three or four feet high ; all of brick. I am assured
that of the extent or cost of these old contrivances
uo aicciiuiiis have been preserved, but that they
were more than twice as costly as the present
method.

In all the reports I have seen, metropolitan or
city — the statements of the flushermen bein;^ to the
same purport — there are complaints as to the uses to
which the gully-holes are put in many parts, every
kind of refuse admissible through the bars of the
grate being stealthily emptied down them. The
paviours, if they have an opportunity, sweep their
surplus grout into the gullies, and so do the sca-
vagers with their refuse occasionally, though this
is generally done in the less-frequented parts, to
get rid of the "slop," which is valueless.

In a report, published in 1851, Mr. Haywood
points out the prevalence of the practice of using
the gully-gratings ns dustbins! A sewer under
Billingsigate accumulated in a few months many
cart-loads, composed almost wholly of fish-shells;
and 114 cart-loads of fish-shells, cinders, and
rubbish were removed from the sewers in the
vicinity of Middlesex-street (Petticoat-lane);
these had accumulated in about twelve months.
*' Reconstructing the gullies," he says, " so as to
intercept improper substances (which h.is been
recently done at Billingsgate), might prevent this
material reaching the sewers, but it would still
have to be removed from the gullies, and would
thus still cause perpetual expense. Indeed, I feel
convinced that nothing but making public example
by convicting and punishing some offenders, under
clause 69 of * The City of London Sewers' Act,'
will stop the practice, so universal in the poorer
localities, of using the gullies as dustbins."

The OuUy-holes are funeirapped—'whh very few
exceptions, one report states, while another report
intimates that gully-trapping has no exception at all.
The trap is resorted to so that the effluvium from

400

LOXDON LABOUR AXD TUE LONDON POOR.

a guily-dnin m.iy not infect the air of the public
wayi; but nmoiii( engineen and medical sanitary
inqiiircrii, tlii>re is much ditference of opinion as
to whf ther thu system of trapping; is desirable or
not. The ^«.*n^ral opinion seems to bo, however,
that ill! Kiillii's shiiuld l>e trapped.

Of ihc'L'itVKuHy-traps, Mr. llarwood, in a report
for the year 18l;l, kivs, ns rcg-.irds the period of
their introduction : —

" About seventeen years ago your then surveyor
(Mr. Kelsey) applied the first tmp« to feewrer gullies,
and from that date to the present the trapping of
gullies has been adopted at a principle, and the
city of London is still, I believe, the only metro-
politan area in which the gullies are all trapped.
The traps first constructed have ^ince U'cn (as all
first inventions or adaptations ever h:ivc or will
be) improved upon, and are rapidly being displaced
by those of more improved constructiou.

"Now, of the incompatible conditions required
of gully-traps, of the dilticulty of obtaiuint; huch
mcchauic'il appliancet so elfectire and perfect as
can (htoif ficall^ be devised, but yet of the extreme
detintbility of obtaining thrm as perfect :is modrrn
Miencc could produce, your honourable court han,
at least, for as long as I have had the honour of
holding ofHce under you, been fully alive tu ; ni>
prejudice has op]>08ed im^iediment to the introduc-
tion of nuveltii'S ; your court has been aUvavb
open to inventors, and, at the pn-sent time, tiiere
are sixteen ditl'rent traps or morleii of trapping
gullies undf-r tri.il within your jurisdiction.

"Nor has the provibion of the means of ex-
cluding efiluvium from the atuioiphere been your
only aire ; but the cleanliness of the sewers, and
the pn*v«*nti-.n of accumulation of (l('c<»nip'-sin^'
refu.".'. bttih liy re.:ulalfd cleansing;*, .'iml liy c:n-
stnittin-^' the i.r'\va<;e uj»on the nu«i*. iin{.r'i\i'(l
priiiLi|..'v<, l.iiNc also been your aim and that of
your nflici-rs ; and I do not hesitate to a>seri, th;!t
tin' ottuibivenesa of the I'hcape from tin* «i»llii's
has bf'ij of late year* inurfi tiiminislud by t:.e
care lie<to\vrd upon th«' ctnidiiioii of th- Si'Wi-rs.
*• I.>74 KiiliH's have be.-n retrapp»ed in the <'ity
• upon ini;.riivid principles dining tlie la>t y<ar.'"
' Th<» jiMl!y-tr..ps are on the priiicijili! of 8flf-

! ncti.'iL' ^.llvl^■l, hiii it is stai«-d in s<'Vt:al reports,
th.ii thr.»(' va'vrs often reniJiin pHrnuunM:tly opi-n.
I p:ir:ly from the slr.-et n-fuse (isprcially if mix- d
I with trie cii-1 ris fronj new or removed l.uiliiin^>,i
not Ix-Mi^' Mitlicently li([uiiird to paas thn»nu'li
ihiMH, anil partly Ironj the hint's getting rast-.d,
and »u bi-c:)uiin!' lixrd.

Of thk Lii.vjtu of tiik Lom>on S::\TEiif>- am»

i>l:AIX!!.

TiiEi.E is T\r\ oiruial account precisely defining the
length of the London Jit-wera^'e ; but tin* iniorma-
tion .'icqiiiroil en the subject leaves no doubt as to
the ac( uracy of the following facts.

About i»M'i niiU'S of sewers of the metropolis
may l,e jf.iid to have been surveyed; and it is
known that fnun ] 00 to 1 50 miles more con»tilute
a portion of the metropolitan sewerage ; this, too.

independently of thai of the City, wbicli is 50
miles. Altogether I am assured that the severs
of the urban part of London, included within the
6S square miles befbro mentioned, measure 11 UO
miles.

The classes of sewers comprised in this Iool'
extent are pretty eqnally apportioned, each a
third, or 3C6 miles, of the first, second, and third
cksses respectively. Of this extent about 2u0
miles are still, in the year 1852, open sewers ' — to
say nothing of the great open sewer, the Thamr*.
The open sewers are found principally in tlie>
Surrey districts, in Brixton, Lcwisham, Tooting,
and places at the like distance from the m-tre
ci>ntral parts of the Commissioners* juriadictiozi.
These open sewers, however, are disappearing,
and it is intended that in time no such place*
shall exist ; as it is, some miles of them are in-
closed yearly. The open sewers in what nuy b«
considered more of the heart of the metropolis are
a {M)rtion of the Fleet-ditch in Clorkenwcll, and
places in Lambeth and Bennondsey, or about 2U
mili>s in the interior to 180 miles in the exterior
portion of the capital. These are national dis-
graces.

The 1100 miles above-mentioned, however, in^
elude only the sewers, comprising neither the houw
nor ^ully -drains. According to the present Ltvs,
all newly-built houses must be diained into the
Sfvvers; and iu 1850 there were 5000 applica-
tions from the western districts alone to the Cuo-
misi^ionen, for the promotion of the drainage of
that numlMT of old and new houses into the
sewers, the old houses having been previoasly
drained into cesspools.

I anj assured, on g»od authority, tliat fully one-
half of the houses in the nicLMjioIi.s arc at the
prf.sei.t time drained into the Rewer*. In o.iP
.Ntievt. abi>ut a eeiitiiry olii, conUiiuin;; in lli«r pur-
ti'«n Burveytd for an official purpo.-e, oii the ivy
>.ide^ of the way, 70 houseji, the laiiiilMir wa*
fiiuml to be equally divided — half the dr.un.ii-
iM-in^ into sewers and half into ce6spiM>l«. X::-
nuinlnT of hiu^os in the metropulin proptr, uf
1 1 'i siiuare milrs area, is 307,7-2. The mai-Tily.
as far as is ollicially known, are now t!r.i:i::d
into ilie public Sfwers, or into j>riv;ite or b:ari^:'
»i.'wrr4 counnunicating with the larger p«jl/.;c
ri'ceptacli-s, so that — :tllowing *JO<>.UijO hoUM-*
to bf included in the .^S square miles of ti:*
urban sewerage, and admitting that some wrelthvi
dwelling-places are not drained at ull - -i: is fra-
Minable to assume that at hast 100,0 00 houses
within this area are drained into the sewers.

The average length of the houso-drains i*. I
Ifarn from the beAt sources, 50 feot \wr huuse.
The builder of a new house is now r«-quiriMi by
law to dniiii it, at the proprietor's coiti, 100 fee:.
if neafi'Sary, to a sewer. In some instance?, in
deUichcd houses, where the owners object to th"
ceiiRpool fvtitem, a house drain lias been rarrirJ
"I'M) fet* t to a sewer, and sometimes even ^riher :
but in narrow or moderately wide streets, froia
l.S to 2o feet across, and in alleys and usrr.w
places (in case there is sewerage) the house dniia*
may be but from 12 to 20 feet. Both these

LONDOir LABOUR AND THB LONDON POOR.

m

lengths of drainage are ezceptioni, and there ia
DO question that the average lengUi may be put
at 50 feet In •ome squarci, for example, the
sewer nms along the centre, so that the honse-
drains here ore in excess of the 50 feet average.

The length of the house-drainage of the more
central part of London, assuming 100,000 houses
to be drained into the sewers, and each of snch
drains to be on the average 60 feet long, is, then,
5,000,000 feet, or about 2840 miles.

But there are still the street or gullj-druns
for the surface-water to be estimated. In the
Holbom and Pinsbury division alone, the length
of the " main covered sewers " is said to be 83
miles ; the length of " smaller sewers '* to carry
off the 8ur£fice> water from the streets 16 miles;
the length of drains leading irom houses to the
main sewers, 264. |

Now, if there be 16 miles of gully-drains to
83 miles of main covered sewers, and the same
proportion hold good throughout the 58 square
miles over which the sewers extend, it foUows
that there would be about 200 miles of gully-
drains to the grou 1100 miles of sewers.

But this is only an approximate result The
length and character of the gidly-diains I find
to vary very considerably. If the streets where
the gully-grates are found have no sewer in a line
with the thorough&re, still the water must be
drained off and conveyed to the nearest sewer, of
any class, large or small, and consequently at much
greater length than if there were a sewer running
down the street Neither is the number of the
guUy-holes any sure criterion of the measurement
of the guny-drains, for where the intersections are,
and consequently the gully-holes frequent, a num-
ber^ sometimes amounting to ten, are made to empty
their contents into the same gully-drain. Neither
do the returns of yearly expenditure, presented to
Parliament by the Metropolitan Court of Sewers,
supply information. But even if the exact length,
and the exact price paid for the formation of that
length, were given, it would supply but tkt year's
outlay as regards the additions or repairs that had
been made to the gully-drains, and certainly not
furnish us ^ith the original cost of the whole.

One experienced informant told me — but let me

fimise that I heard from all the gentlemen whom
consulted, a statement ^t they could only
compute by analogy with other facts bearing upon
the subject — was confident, that taking only 1200
miles of public way as gully-drained, that extent
night be considered as the length of the gully-
drains themselves. Even calculating such drains
to run firom each side of the public way, which is
generally the case, I am told that, considering the
economy of underground space wluch is now
necessary, the length of 1200 miles is as &ir an
estunate for gully-drainage (apart from other
drainage) as for the length of the streets so
gullied.

Hence we have, for the gross extent of the
whole sewers and dnuns of the metropolis, the
following result, —

MHes.

Main covered sewers . 1100

House-drains .... 2840

Gully-dnins for surfisuDe-water of
streets 1200

Total length of the sewers and

drains of the metropolis . . 5140

The island of Great Britun, I may observe, is,
at its extreme points, 550 miles from north to
south, and 290 from east to west It would, there-
fore, appear that the main sewers of the capital
are just double the length of the whole island, from
the English Channel to John-o'- Groats, and nearly
three times longer than the greatest width of tiie
country. But this is the extent of the sewerage
alone. The drainage of London is about equal in
length to the diameter of the earth itself I

Or THB CoflT Of CoKBTKUoriJia TBI Sbwkbb

▲ITD DbAIKB Of SB! MSTBOPOLZS.

Tbb money actually expended in constructing
the 1100 miles of sewers and 4000 miles of
drains, even if we were only to date from Jan. 1,
1800, is not and never can be known. They
have been bmlt at intervals, as the metropolis, so
to speak, grew. They were built also in many
sizes and forms, and at many variations of price,
according to the depth from the snr&ce, the good
or bad management, or the greater or lesser ex-
tent of jobbery or "patronage" in the several
independent coramissicDS. Acioonnts were either
not presented in '' the good old times," or not
preserved.

Had the 1100 miles of sewers to be coostmcted
anew, they would be^ according to the present
prices paid by the Commissioners-^not including
digging or such extraneous labour, but the cost
of the sewer only — as follows :—

366 miles of sewers of the first
class, or 1,932,480 feet, at 15<.
perfect £1,449,360

366 miles, or 1,932,480 feet of
the second class, at 11«. per foot . 1,062,864

Same length of third dass, at
9<. per foot . . . . 869,616

Total cost of the sewers of the
metropolis £3,881,840

As this is a lower chaige than was paid for
the construction of more tlun three-fourths of the
sewers, we may fairly assume that their cost
amounted to from three millions and a half to
four millions of pounds sterling.

The majority of the house-drains ronning into
the sewers are brick, and seldom less than 9 inches
square ; sometimes, in the old brick drains, they
are some inches lazier, and in the v^ old drains,
and in some 100 years old, wooden planks were
often used instead of a brick or stona construction,
for the sake of reducing cost, and replaced when
rotted. The wood, in many eases, soon decayed,
and since 1847 no wooden sewers have been
allowed to be fonned, nor any old ones to be re-
paired with saw wood ; the wock must be of
stone or brick, if not pipeage. Abont two-thirds

402

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

of the drain! running from the houses to the
sewers are brick ; the remaining third tubular, or
earthenware pipes. The cost, if now to be formed,
would be somewhat as follows : —

ISOS^ miles of brick drains, bs.
per foot, as average of sizes . . j62,499,200

945i( feet of tubular drains, ave-
rage of sizes 2«. 6rf. . . . 624.800

Total cost of the house-drains of
London £3,124,000

The cost of the street or gully drains have still
to be estimated.

The present cost of the 9-inch gully-pipe drains
is about Z$, 6d. a foot ; of the 6-inch, 2j. 6d, Of
the proportionate lengths of these two classes of
street-drains I have not been able to gain any
account, for, I believe, it has never been ascer-
tained in any way approaching to a total return.
Taking 1200 miles, however, as quite within the
full length of the gully-drains, and calculating nt
the low average of 3«. the foot for the whole, the
total cost of the street-drains of the metropolis
would be 950,400^., or, I am assured, one might
say a million sterling, and this, even if all were
done at the present low prices ; the original cost
would, of course, have been much greater.

Hence, according to the above calculations, we
have the following

Gross Estimate of the Cost qf the Setcers and
Drains of the Mdrojiolis.

£

1100 miles of main covered sewers 3,500,000
2840 niih's of hou»e-drains . . 3,000,000
1200 miles of gully or street drains 1,000,000

5140 miles of sewers and drainage = 7,500,000

Op the Uses op Skwers as a Means op
Subsoil Drainage.

Tdeue is one other purpose toward wliich a sewer
is available — a purpose, too, which I do not re-
member to have seen specified in the Metropolitan
j Reports.

*' The first, and perhaps most important pur-
pose of sewers, as respects health," says the
Kcport of Messrs. Walker, Gubitt, and Brunei
(lb48), " is, a* under-drains to (he surrovnding
earth. They answer this purpose so effectually
and quif'tly, and have done it so long, that
their importance in this respect is overlooked,
j In the Sanitary Commissioners' Reports we do
; not find it once noticed, and the recommcnda-
j lion of the substitution of stone or earthenware
! pipes for the larger brick sewers, seems to show,
that any provision for the undar-drainarfe was
thought unnecessary, although such a provision is
in our opinion most important.

'* Under the artificial ground, the collection of
ages, which in the City of London, as in most
ancient towns, forms the upper surface, is a con-
siderable thickness of clean gravel, and under tlie

gravel is the London day. The preaent houses
are founded chiefly on the artificial or 'made
ground,' while the sewers are made through the
gravel ; and it is known practically, that however
charged with water the gravel of a district may
be, the springs for a coniiderable distance round
are drawn down by making a sewer, and ih*;
wells that had water within a few feet of the sur-
&ce have again to be sunk below the bottom of
the sewer to reach the water. Every interstice
between the stones of the gravel acts as an under-
drain to conduct the water to the sewer, through
the sides of which it finds its way, even if mortar
be used in the construction.

" Hence the salubrity of a gravel foundation,
if the water be drawn out of it by sewers or
other means, as is the case with the City and
with "Westminster. A proof of this principle
was afforded by the result of a reference to physi-
cians and engineers in 1838, to inquire into the
state of drainage and smells in and near Buck-
ingham Palace, as to which there had been com-
plaints, though none so heavy as Mr. Phillips
now makes, when he says, ' that the drainage d
Buckingham Palace is extremely defective, and
that its precincts are reeking with filth and pesti-
lential odours from the absence of proper sevc^
age !* "

The Report then shows the pains that were
taken to ensure dryness in the Palace. Pits were
dug in the garden 14 feet below the sur&ce, and
3^ feet below high-water mark in the river, and
they were found dry to the bottom. The kitcheu
and yard of the palace are, however, only IS
inches above Trinity high- water mazk in the
Thames, and therefore 18 inches below a very
high tide. The physician. Sir James ('larke,
and the engineers, Messrs. Simpson and Walker,
in a separate Report, spoke in terms of com-
mendation of the drainage of the Palace in 1333,
as promotive of dryness. Since that time a con-
necting chain has been made from the Pala«
drains into the canal in St. James's- park, to
prevent the wet from rising as formerly during
heavy rains. " The Palace," it ia edited in the
Report of the three engineers, " ahouid not be
classed with the low part of Pimlico, where ifce
drainage is, we believe, very defective, and to
which, for anything we know to the contrary, the
character given by Mr. Phillips may be applica-
ble."

Unfortunately, however, for this array or ojm-
nions of high authority, and despit'* the advautasres
of a gravel bed for the substnitum of the puaiial
sewerage, the drainage and sewerage about
Buckingham Palace is more frequently than thai
of any other public place under repair, and i*
always requiring attention. It was only a few
days ago, before the court left Windsor Castle for
London, that men were employed nisht and day,
on the drains and cesspoolage channels, to mskf,
as one of them described it to mc — and «uca
working men's descriptions are often forciide — **ibe
place decent. I was hardly ever," he added, •'in
such a set of stinks as I 've been in the sewers
and undergroimd parts of the palace."

LONDON" LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

408

Or THE CiTT Seweiuok.

As yet I have spoken only of the sewers of Lon-
don* "without the City;** but the sewers within
the City, though connected, for the general public
drainage and sewerage of the capital, with the
works under the control of the Metropolitan Com-
missioners, are in a distinct and strictly defined
jurisdiction, superintended by City Commissioners,
and managed by City officers, and consequently
demand a speciiU notice.

* Of the deriration of the word Sewer there hare been
many conjectures, but no approximation to the truth.
One of the earliest inatanocs i have met with of any de-
tailed mention of aewert, ia in an address delivered by a
** Coroner," whose name does not appear, to ** a Jury of
sewers." This address was delivered somewhere between
the years 1660 and 1670. The coroner having first spoken
of the importance of** Navigation and Drayning" (drain-
ing), then came to the question of sewers.

" Sewars," he said, **are to be accounted your

Ssnd Issuers of Water, fh>m whence I conceive
ey carry their name (SetDort <iuati lutter*)* I shall
take his opinion who deltvers them to be Currcnu of
Water, kept in on both sides with banks, and, in some
sense, they may be called a certain kind of a little or
small river. But as for the derivatton of the word Sewar,
from two of our English words. Sea and fFere, or, as
others will have it. Sea and Ward, give me leave, now I
have mentioned it, to— leave it to your Judgments.

** However, this word Sewar is very famous amongst
us, both for giving the title of the Commission of
Sewars itself, and for being the ordinary name of most
of your common water-courses, for Drayning,and there-
fore, I presume, there are none of you of these Juries
but both know—

«* 1. What Sewars signify, and also, in particular,

*'S. What they are; and of a thing so generally
known, and of such general use.**

The Rev. Dr. Lemon, who gave the world a work on
" English Etymology," from the Greek and Latin, and
Arom the Saxon ana Norman, was regarded as a high
authority during the latter part of the last century,
when his quarto first appeared. The following is his
account, under the head *' Sewers"—

** Skinn. rejects Minsh's. deriv. of * olim script um
fuisse tnmrrf a sea-ward, quod versus mare factse sunt:
longi verisimilius 4 Fr. Gall, eauier ,- sentina ; incite,
supple, aquarum : '—then why did not the Dr. trace this
Fr. Gall, eatderf if he had, he would have found it dis-
torted ab 'T^«»f , aqaa ; tewtrn being a species of a^«-
(fticf.— Lye, in his Add., gives another deriv., via. * ab
Iceland, mat colare,- ut existiroo; ad quod referre
vellem *««»«•; cloaca; per wrdet urbis ejiciuntur : '— the
%'ery word sardee gives me a hint that sewer may be
derived k ' Ssm^at, vel 1ti^9M, verro: nempe quia tordet,
quae everruntur d domo, in unum locum accumuUmtur ;
R. X»^«f, cumulxu: Voss.'— a eoBeclion qf tweepingt,
dopf dirt, tj^e.'*

But these are the follies of learning. Had our lexico-
graphers known that the vulnr were, as Dr. Latham
says, " the conservators of the Saxon language" with us,
they would have sought information from the word
'* shore," which the uneducated, and, consequently, un-
perverted, invariably use in the place of the more polite
'• sewer"— the common tewer Is always termed by them
'* the common ihore," Now the word thnre, in Saxon, is
written score and tear (for e = h), and means not only
a bank, the land immediately next to the sea, but a
aenre, a tally— for they are both substantives, made ttom
the verb sceran (p. scear, teeer, np. aeorent giMcoren), to
Uwar, cut oflf. share, divide ; and hence they meant, in the
one rase, the division of the land ttom the sea ; and in
the other, a division cut in a piece of wood, with a view
to counting. The substantive eear has the same origin ;
as well as the verb to score, to cut, to gash. The Scan-
dinavian cognates for the Saxon seor may be cited as
proofii of what is here asserted. They are, IceL, sker, a
notch; Swcd., skdra, a notch; and Dan., tkaar and
•kwrt, a notch, an incision. It would seem, therefore,
that the word shore, in the sense of sewer (Dan., iture/
AngUce. «Ayre, for A; = h), originally meant merely a
•core or incision nwde in the ffround, a tfUcA sunk with
the view of carrying off the relW-water, a watercourse, \
and eonscquently a drain. A sewer is now a covered |
ditch, or channel for refuse water.

The account of the City sewen, however,
may be given with a comparative brevity, for the
modes of their constmctiony as well as their
general management, do not di£fer from what I
have described as pertaining to the extra-civic
metropolis. There are, nevertheless, a few distinc-
tions which it is proper to point out

The City sewers are the oldest in the capital,
for the very plain reason that the City itself, in
its site, if not now in its public and private btdld-
ings, is the oldest part of London, as regards the
abode of a congregated body of people.

The ages (so to speak) of these sewen, vary,
for the most part, according to the dates of the
City*s rebuilding after the <£reat Fire, and accord-
ing to the dates of the many alterations, improve-
ments, removal or rebuilding of new streets,
markets, &c., which have been effected since that
period. Before the Great Fire of 1666, all drain-
age seems, with a few exceptions, to have been
fortuitous, unconnected, and superficial

The first public sewer built after this important
epoch in the history of London was in Ludgate-
street and hill. This was the laudable work of
the Dean and Chapter of St Paul's, and was con-
structed at the instance, it is said, and after the
plans, of Sir Christopher Wren. There is, per-
haps, no official or documentary proof of this, for
the procUunations from the King in council, the
Acts of Parliament, and the resolutions of the
Corporation of the City of London at that im-
portant period, are so vague and so contradictory,
and were so frequently altered or abrogated, and so
frequently disregarded, that it is more impossible
than difficult to get at the truth. Of the fact
which I have just mentioned, however, there need
be no doubt; nor that the teeond public City
sewer was in Fleet-street, commenced in 1668,
the second year after the fire.

There are, nevertheless, older sewers than this,
but the dates of their construction are not known ;
we have proof merely that they existed in old
London, or as it was described by an anonynwus
writer (quoted, if I remember rightly, in Mait-
land's "History of London **), London "ante
ignem'* — London before the fire. These sewers,
or rather portions of sewers, are severally near
Newgate, St. Bartholomew's Hospital sewer, and
that of the Irongate by the Tower.

The sewer, however, which may be pointed
out as the most remarkable is that of Little
Moorgate, London- wall. It is formed of red tiles ;
and from such being its materials, and from the
cireumstance of some Roman coins having been
found near it, it is supposed by some to be of
Roman construction, and of course coeval with
that people's possession of the country. This sewer
has a flat bottom, upright sides, and a circular
areh at iu top ; it is about 5 feet by 8 feet The
other older sewers present much about the same
form; and an Act in the reign. of Charles IL
directs that sewers shall be so built, but that the '
bottom shall have a cireular curve.

I am informed by a City gentleman — one tak-
ing an interest in snch matteri— that this sewer
has troubled the repose of a few civic antiquaries^

\.

404

LOyJDOy LABOUR ASD TEE LONDON POOEL

some thiuking that it vai a Eoman tewer, while
others Kouted luch a notion, arguing that the
Konians were not in the habit of doing their work
by halves ; and that if they hod sewered London,
great and enduring remains would have been dis-
covered, for their main sewer would have been a
solid construction, and directed to the Thames, as
was and is the Cloaca Maxima, in the Eternal
City, to the Tiber. Others have said that the
sower in question was merely built of Roman
materials, perhaps first discovered about the time,
having originally formed a reservoir, tank, or
even a bath, and were keenly appropriated by
some ecoDomical or Kheming builder or City
offlciaL

" That the Britons," says Tacitus in his " Life
of Agricola," " who led a roaming life, and were
easily incited to war, might contract a love
for peace, by being accustomed to a pleasanter
mode of life, AgricoU assisted them to build
houses, temples, and marketpLtccs. By praising
the diligent and upbraiding the idle, he excited
such emulation among the Britons, that, after they
had erected all those necessary buildings in their
towns, they built others for pleasare and ona-
inent, as porticoes, galleries, lailu, and banquet-
ing-houses."

The sewers of the city of London are, then, a
comparatively modem work. Indeed, three-
fourths of them may be called modem. The
earlier sewers were --as I have described under
the general head — ditches, which in time were
arched over, but only gradually and partially, as
suited the convenience or the profit of the owners
of property alongside those open channels, some
of which thud preseut'.'tl the appearance of a
series of small uncouth looking bridges. When
these bridges had to be connected so as to f -rm
the summit of a continuous sewer, they presented
every variety of arch, both at their outt-r and
under sides ; those too near the surface had to l)e
lowered. Some of these sewers, however, were
ill the iir^t instances connected, despite ditference
of sise and irregularity of form. The result may
be judged from the account I have given of the
strange construction of 8(nno of the Westminster
sewers, under the head of •' subterranean survey."
llow modern the City sewers are may best be
estimated from the followiiig table of what may
be c:illed the dates of their construction. The
periods are given decennially as to the progress of
the formation of n%w sewers ; —

Feet.

Feet.

1707 to 1717 . 2,805

1777 to

1787 . 8,698

1717 „ 1727 . 2,110

1787 „

1797 . 3.118

1727 „ 1737 . 2,763

1707 „

1807 . 5.116

1737 „ 1747 . 1,238

1807 „

1817 . 5,0»7

1747 „ 1757 . 8,736

181T „

1827 . 7,847

1767 „ 1767 . 3,736

1767 „ 1777 . 7,5&7

62,810

1827 to 1S37 .

. 39.072 feet.

18S7 to 1847 .

•

88,363 „

127,435
Thus the length made in the 20 years previous

to 1847 was more than double all that wai made
during the preceding 120 years ; while in the ten
years from 1837 to 1847, the addition to the
lineal extent of sewerage was very nearly equal to
all that had been made in 180 yean prerioutly.

This addition of 127,435 feet, or rather more
than 24 miles, teems but a imall matter when
*' London" is thought of; bat the reader must be
reminded that only a small portion (comparatively)
of the metropolis is here ^K>ken o^ and the entire
length of the City sewerage, at the cloae of 1847,
was but 44 miles; so that the additions I have
specified as having been made lince 1837, were
more than one-huf of the whole. The re-con-
stmctions are not included in the metage I have
given, for, as the new sewera generally occupied the
same site at the old, they did not add to the
length of the whole.

The total length of the (^ty tewerage wat, oo
the 31st December, 1851, no lett than 49 miles;
while the entire public way wat at the tame recent
period, 51 milet (containing about 1000 teparate
and distinct streets, lanet, coortt, alleyt, &c, &c);
and I am assured that in another year or to, not
a furlong of the whole City will be untewered.

" The more ancient sewen utnally bare upright
walls, a flat or slightly-cnrved invert, and a tend-
circular or gothic arch. The form of tnch at hare
been built apparently more than 20 yean ago, it
that of two semicircles, of which the npper hM a
greater radius, connected by sloping tide wallt;
those of recent constmction are egg-thaped. The
main lines are not nnfreqnently elliptic ; in tiic cut
of the Fleet, and other ancient affluents of tht
Thames, the forms and dimensions vary consider-
ably. Instances occur of sewers built entirely of
stone ; but the material is almost invariably brick,
most commonly 9 inches in substance ; the larger
sewers 14, and sometimes 18 inches.

The falls or inclinations in the course of the
City sewerage vary greatly, as much at from 1 in
210 to 1 in 24, or, in the first case, from n fall of
22 feet, in the latter, of course, to ten times such
fall, or 220 feet per mile. There are, moreover,
H few cases in which the inclmation is as small as
1 in 900; others where it is as high as 1 in 14.
This irregularity is to be accounted for, f.artlT by
the want of system in the old times, and partly
from the natural levels of the ground. The want
of system and the iudiiference shown to providing
a proper fall, even where it was not difficult, wat
more excusable a few yean back than it would be
at the present time, for when tome of theti
sewers were built, the drainage of the house-
refuse into them was not contemplated.

The number of houses drained into the Citr
sewers is, as precisely as such a matter can be
aijcertaiiied, 11,209 ; tlie number drained into the
cesspools is 5030. This shows a preponderance
of drainafre into the sewers of C179. The length
of the house- drains in the City, at an average of
60 feet to each house, may be estinuited at upwardt
of 106 miles. These City drains are included ia
the general computation of the metropolit.

The gully-drains in the City are more freqant
than in other ports of the metropolit, owing to the

LONWir LABOUR AND THB LONDON POOR.

405

continual intersection of ttreeti, &e., and perliapf
from a closer care of the sewerage and all matters
connected with it The general aTerage of the
gully-drains I hare shown to be 59 for erery mile
of street. I am assured that in the City the
street-drains may be safely estimated at 65 to the
mile. Kstimating the streets gnllied within the
City, then, at an average of 50 milet, or about a
mile more than the sewers, the number of gully-
drains is 3250, and the length of them about 50
miles; but these, like the house-drains, have been
already included in the metropolitan enumeration.
The actual sum expended yearly npon the con-
struction, and repairs^ and imprOTements of the
City sewers cannot be cited as a distinct item,
because Uie Court makes the return of the aggre-
gate annual expenditure, as regards naTement,
cleansing, and the matters specified as the general
expenditure under the Court of Commiuioners of
the City Sewers. The cost, howerer, of the
construction of sewers comprised within the civic
boundaries is included in the general metropolitan
estimate before given.

Of THB Outlets, UAxiricAnovs, sia, of
TIU Siwuts.

Iir this ennmeiation I speak only of the
public outlets into the river, controlled and regu-
lated by public officers.

The orifices or months of the sewers where
they discharge themselves into the Thames, be-
ginning from their eastern, and following them
seriatim to their western extremity, are as
follows : —

Limehouse Hole.
Irongate WharC
Batdiffe Cross.
Fox-Une, Shadwell.
London Dock.
8t. Katharine's Dock.
The eleven City outleU,

which I shall specify

hereafter.
Sssex-street, Strand.
Norfolk-street, Strand.
Durham UiU (ur Adel-

phi).
Horthnmberland-itreet.
Seotland-yard.

Bridge-street, West-
minster.

Pimlico.

Cubitt's(alsoin Pimlico).

Chelsea Bridge.

Fnlbam Bridge.

Hammersmith Bridge.

Sandford Bridge (into
a sort of creek ot the
Thames), or near the
four bridges.

Twickenham.

Hampton.

In all, 82.

It might only weary the reader to enumerate
the outlets on the Surrey side of the Thames,
which are 28 in number, so that the public sewer
outlets of the whole metropolis are 60 in all.

The public «ewer outleU from the City of Lon-
don into the Thames are, as I have said, eleven
in number, or rather they are nsnally represented
as eleven, though in reality there are twelve such
orifices— the "Upper" and '•Bastem" OoaltBi-
Honse Sewert (which are distiiiet) being com-
puted as one. These ootlttt, genenlly speaking
the Boet ancient in the wboU netropolis,

Tower Dock.
Pool Quay.
Custom House.
New Walbrook.
Dowgate Dock.
Hamburg Wharf.
Puddle Dock.

London Bridge^
Ancient Walbrook.
Paul's Wharf.
The Fleet-street Sewer
I at Blackfriars Bridge.
, (I mention these four

first, because they are

the hirgest ouUeto).

Until recently, there was also Whitcfriars Docks,
but this is now attached to the Fleet Sewer
outlet.

The Fleet Sewer is the oldest in London. No
portion of the ditch or river composing it is now
imcovered within the jurisdiction of the City ; but
until a little more than eleven years ago a portion
of it, north of Holbom, was uncover^, and had
been uncovered for years. Indeed, as I have be-
fore intimated, barges and small craft were em-
ployed on the Fleet River, and the City deter-
mined to " encourage its navigation." Bven the
•'polite" Earl of Chesterfield, a century ago (for
his lordship was bom in 1694, and died in. 1778),
when asked by a Frenchman in Paris, if there
was in London a river to compare to the Seine T re-
plied that there certainly was, and it was called
Fleet Ditch ! This is now the sewer ; but it was
not a covered sewer until 1765, when the Cor-
poration ordered it to be built over.

The next oldest sewer outlet is that at London
Bridge, and London antiquaries are not agreed at
to whether it or the Fleet is the oldest

The Fleet Sewer at Bbekfriars Bridoe is 18 feet
high ; between Tudor-street and Fleet Bridge
(about the foot of Ludgate-hill), li feet 8 inches
high ; at Holbom Bridge, 18 feet ; and in its con-
tinuation in the long-unfinished Vicleria atreet,
12 feet 8 inches. In aU these localities it
is 12 feet wide.

The New London Bridge Sewer, built or re-
built, wholly or partly, in 1880, is 10 feel by
8 at its outlet ; decreasing to the south end of
King William-street, where it is 9 feet by 7;
while it is 8 feet by 7 in Moorgate-street.

PmuI's Wharf sewer is 7 feet 6 inchea by 5 IM
6 inches near the outlet

With the one exception of the Fleet River, none
of the City sewer outlets are covered, the Fleet
outlet being covered even at low water. The
issue from the others runs in open channels upon
the shore.

Mr. Haywood (February 12, 1850), in a report
of the City Sewer Transactions and Works, ob-
serves^— " During the year (18i9) the outlet sewers
at Billingsgate and Whitefriars, two of the outlets
of main sewers which discharged at the line of
the River Wall, have been diverted (times of
storm excepted) ; there remain, therefore, but
eleven main outlets within the jurisdiction of thia
commission, which diKharge their waters at tha
line of the River Wall.

" As a temporary measure, it is expedient to
convey the sewage of the whole of the outlets
within the City by covered culverts, below low-
water mark ; this subject haa been under the con-
sideration both of this OoauoisttOD and the Navi-
gation Committee."

idunnar iamum amd thm mwlob i>oo&

witk •twmigt),aid «m ialo yASA. I BMd aol

Ifr. H«prood mji IMmt^-^TU Fled
Mwcr alrHSij diadngw ili ««««• flow, VT •
calvert, ImIow low-water auk ; with «wozeapdoa
wIt, I belieT*, bom of tht nnMnao ostleti^
n^kh, for a longth of smbj aflii^ dftdant at
inttftak into tha Thamoo aft tlM lino or tba
Bivor Wall, both within and withoat yonr jnrii-
dietion, difehatfs \rf eviT«ta ia a dnilar bub-
aor."

Thaw eleren otttlett art &r from being the
wbdo Bomber whichgifa th^ eootonts into " tha
eSvar booom of the ThaaMi^'' along tho baak-liaa
of the (Sty joriidietioa. Then are (iBdnding the
11) 182 outlett; bat theee are not nader the
eoBtiol (bbIom hi eaeae of alteratioBy BainBee,
ftc)oftheGoartof8ewen. They «• the oatleta
from the diaiBage of the whaifi^ pablie boikUnm
or BMUHiCutoriee (loeh at MW-wochi^ Ac) on &e
baaks of the riTv; and the right to liana inch
aatlets haviBg befla ebtaiaed from the NaYigati<m
Conmittce^ who^ vader tha Lord Mmr, are
cooaenraton of the Thameev the care of them is
lagarded as a private matter, aad therefoie does
BoC raqnire farther notiee fai this woih. The
oAeeis of the City Coort of Sewers obsenre
thoM oatlets ia their roonds of iBspeetioB, bat
interfiBre only on applicatioo from aay party co&-
aemed, odIom a BOuaBoe be ia eziitenee.

To coDTey a aiofe defiaite aotion of the ex-
tent end minified sweep of the sewers, I will now
deacriba (fcr the first time in print) some of the
chief Smm Rami/ications, end then show the
proportionate or aTerage number of public ways,
of inhabited houses, and of the population to
each great main sewer, distinguishing, in this
instance, those Moreat main tevctn which have
an outlet into the Thames.

The reader should peruse the following accounts
with the assistance of a map of the enrirons, for,
thus oidedf he will be better able to form a defi-
nite notion of the curiously-mixed and blended
extent of the sewerage already spoken of.

First, then, as to the ramifications of the great
and ancient Fleet outlet From its month, so to
speak, near Blackfriars Bridge, its course is not
parallel with any public way, but, running some-
what obliquely, it crosses below Tudor-street into
Bridge-street, Blackfriars, then occupies the centre
of Farringdon-street, and that street's prolonga-
tion or intended prolongation into the New Yio-
toria-street (the houses in this locality haring been
pulled down long ago, and the spot being now
popularly known as " the ruins"), and continues
until the City portion of the Fleet Sewer meets
the Metropolitan jurisdiction between Saffron and
Mutton hills, the junction, so to call it, being
"under the houses" * (a common phrase among flush-

• Thii outlet is known to the fludiermen, dec, m
"below the backs of houses." ftom Ito derlous course
wd^^konma without pursutnc any direct line paraUel
with the open part of the stnets.

A little fatter esH 4
lefthaFlaefcDilc^i

sO. laitsOhy
ksM fieoBlM
Bohlie ways fiadafiag itrsats^ >n«7ii^ asarti^
haei^ ftc), whiehanmnlied iata h fivm tte
SMsod, ttndy er smaUar cbas aevsss^ fnm Lod-

Bate-hm aad its proximate snaate^ tlm 8l BmTs
hwali^, FIselstrset aad ito adjaesBt (
tioBS m pablie ways^ with a seriea af i
nmBiBgdewafreapttteefSanthfieU, ft& The
jmtet aeeemioe of eewi^, howaiar, wliidh the
Fleet neeivas from obs issae^ is a fcw yaids
beyoad when the Qtf has menad iaia ths
jsempeuma jansaMUsay VBi aeceemeo la nnm
a finUiass Mwar, kaawa aa "Aa Whitecraes-
strest aewar,* bacsase raaaaw ftaas that aHeet,
aadcanrfa^ iate tha fleet the confributjeai et
60 crowdsd strsetSL

After the Janetioa of the eovftad City aewsr
with the aaeofeied ditch ia G&BtfcenMl, the
FlaeMTsr sewer (sgaia eevacad) akirte naad
Gold Bath Reids Prison (the Middlaaaa Hoase of
Ceoaetion), raas thioagh Gleikeaardl-greeB into
the Bsgnigge Wells«oad, so on to Battle-bridge
aad Khig^s<nss; thea akng tha Old Saint Fkoi-
emMaad, aad theaee to the Kiag^a-road (a naiae
BOW ahaoet eztmet), whero the 8t Pancne Wodc-
boase staads deee by the tarapikayta, Aleag
Upper OoUeae-eUeet (Osmdea-tawn) is thaa tha
' aef this anal

great sewer, and ranning aaibr
the caaal at the higher part of 0aniden4ewBb
near the bridge by the tenaiBua of tho Qieat
North Wsstetn Bailway, it beencliae iato the
highways and thoroughfares ef Kentish-town, of
Highgate, and of Hampstead, resp«ctiTely» and
then, at what one informant described as ** the
outside" of those places, receives the open ditches,
which form the further sewerage, under the control
of the Commissioners, who cause them to be
cleansed regularly.

In order to show more consecntiTely the direc-
tion, from place to place, in straight, derioos, or
angular course, of this the moot renuirkable sewer
of the world, considering the extent of the drain-
ai^e into it, I have refrained from giring beyond
the Whitecross-street connection with the Fleel»
an account of the number of streets eewered into
this old civic stream. I now proceed to supply
the deficiency.

From a large outlet at Clerkcnwell-gieen (a
very thickly-built neighbourhood) flows the con-
nected sewage of 100 streets. At 3Iaiden-Iane,
beyond Eing's-cross, a district which is now being
built upon for the purposes of the Ghrent Northera
Kail way, the sewage of 10 streets is poured into
it. In the course of this sewer along Gamdea-
town, i^ receives the iuue of some 20 branches, or
40 streets, &c About 16 other issnes ore received
before the open ditches of Eentish-towny Highgst^
and Hampstead are encountered.

It is not, however, merely the sewage collected
in tha precincts of the City proper, which is ''oa^
letted " (as I heard a flusherman csdl it) into the
Thames. Other districto are drained into the
large City outlets Bearing tha rirer. ** Maaj <f

LONDON LABOUR AND THB LONDOIT POOR.

407

your worki,** ••ayf -Mr. Haywood, the City sur-
vcyer, in a report addresaed to the (Sty Gommi»-
aionera, Oct. 23, 1849,^ have been beneficially
felt by districts some miles distant from the City.
Twenty-nine outlets have been provided by you
for the sewage of the County of Middlesex ; the
liigh land of and about Hampstead, drains through
the Fleet sewer; Holloway and a portion of IsH^-
ton can now be drained by the London Bridge
sewer ; Norton Folgate and the densely-populated
districts adjacent are also relieved by it."

On the other hand, the Irongate sewer (one of
the most important), which has its outlet in the
Tuwer Hamlets, drains a portion of the City.

The reader must bear in mind, also, that were
lie to traverse the Fleet sewer in the direction de-
scribed— for all the men I conversed with on the
subject, if asked to show the course of sewerage
with which they were £uniliar, began from the
outlet into the Thames — the reader, I say, must
remember that he would be advancing all the way
against the stream, in a direction in which he
would find the sewage flowing onward to its
mouth, while his course would be towards its
sources.

On the left-hand ndo (for the account before
given refers only to the right-hand side) proceeding
in the same direction, after passing the underground
precincts of the City proper, there is another
addition near Sa&on-hill, of the sewage of 80
streets; then at GiayVinn-zoad is added the
sewage of 100 streets ; New-road (at King's-cross),
20 more streets ; from the whole of Somers-town,
a populous locality, the sewerage concentrating
nil the busy and crowded phices round about ** the
Brill/' &c, the sewage of 120 streets is received ;
and at Pratt-street,C^den-town, 12 other streets.

Thus into this sewage-current, directed to one
final outlet, are drained the refuse of 517 streeu,
including, of course, a Tsriety of minor thorough-
fares, courts, alleys, &c, tec, as in the neighbour-
hoods of Gray's-inn-road, in Clerkenwell, Homers-
town, &c Some of these tributaries to the efflux
of the sewage are ** barrel-drains," but perform the
function of sewers along small courts, where there
is ''no thoroughfiure" either upon or btlow the
Bur&ce.

The London Bridge sewer runs up King Wil-
liam-street to Moorgate-ttreet, along Finjbury-
square into the City-road, diverging near the
Wharf-road, which it crosses under the canal
near theWenlock basin, and thence along the
Lower-road, Islington, by Cock-lane, through
Highbury-vale; after this, at the extremity of
Holloway, the open ditches, as in the former
instance, carry on the conveyance of sewage from
the outer suburbs.

The King's Scholars' Pond Sewer— which seems
to have given the Commissioners more trouble than
any other, in its connection with Buckingham
Palace, St. James's Park, and the new Houses of
Parliament— runs from Chelsea-bridge past Cubitt's
workshops, and along the King's-road to Eaton-
square, the whole of which is drained into it ;
then " turning round," as one man described it, it
approadua Buckingham Palace^ which, with its

grounds, as well as a portion of St. James's and
the Green parks, is drained into this sewer;
then branching away for the reception of the
sewage from the homes and gardens of Chelsea,
it dndns Sloane-street, and, crossing tha Knights-
bridge-road, runs through or across Hyde-park to
the Swan at Bayswater, whence its course is by
the Westboume District and under thfi canal, along
Paddington, until it attains the open country, or
rather the grounds, in that quarter, which have
been very extensively and are now still being
built over, and where new sewers are constructed
simultaneously with new streets.

Thus in the " reach," as I heard it happily
enough designated, of each of these great sewers,
the reader will see from a map the extent of the
subterranean metropolis traversed, alike along
crowded streets ringing with the sounds of traffic,
among palatial and aristoeratic domains, and along
the parks which adorn London, as well as winding
their ramifying course among the courts, alleys,
and teeming streets, the resorts of misery, poverty,
and vice.

Estimating, then, the number of sewers from the
number of their river outlets, and regarding all
the rest as the branches, or tributaries, to each of
these superior streams, we have, adopting the wnm
before specified as being drained by the metropo-
litan sewer8> via., 58 aqnare miles, the following
results : —

Bach of the 60 Mwers having an outlet into the
Thames drains 618 statute acres.

And assaming the number of houses included
within these 58 square miles to be 200,000, and
the population to amount to 1,500,000, or two-
thirds of the houses and people ineludcNi in the
Kei;i«trar-General*t Metropolis, we may scy that
each of the 60 sewers would carry into the Thames
the refuse from 25,000 individuals and 3383
inhabited houses. This, however, is partly pre-
vented by the cesspoolage system, which supplies
receptacles for a proportion of the refuse that,
were London to be rebuilt according to the provi-
sions of the present Building and Sanitary Acts,
would all be carried, without any inteneption,
into the river Thames by the media of the
sewers.

In my account of cesspoolage I shall endeavour
to show the extent of Cscal refuse, &e., contained
in places not communicating with the sewers, and
to be removed by the labour of men and horses,
as well as the amount of fsecal refuse carried into
the sewerage.

Of TBB QlTALITIlS, ETC., Of THB SSWAQS.

The question of the value, the uses, and the best
means of collecting for use, the great mau of the
sewage of the metropolis^ seems to have become
complicated by the statements which have been
of late years put forth by rival projectors and
rival companies. In our smaller country towns,
the neighbourhood of many being remarkable for
fertility and for a grean beanty of meadow-land
and pastnnige, the rafusa of the towns, whether
sewsge or oeapoolage (if not washed into a

408

Msnov LABom Awn the uoiwat Mcut

•ti4»» or rfm), it iiiiiilMMi Iqr
■adcpvtod l^thMi It ifitttd apta

tlM

Br MMtfi!, I MM tht ctntaBli of tht
trofthttflfat tf tevwi; virfdi aiitkaralMt-
itot nor, FMitTt, at any fMatr ptriod, hti
bt«i appUod to Mj wtlU or prtteblo pvpote

bf tht liHiliii tatHnririMi Tht nadiett

aodo to get lU of H» without any caro abovt
iiltiBMto eoBwqaonettr hat alwayt boM ntortod
to^ and that nodo hat bota to oooToy it into tho
Thamei^ and kaTO tho lott to tho canmt of tho
fttKam. Bat the Thaaet hat ht obht at widl at
itt floiff and tho cooMquooeo it tho tt«t|* >t

JMMT got IM Ofc

The Motl oaiatat of oar eigiaoart hoTo agrood
that it it a reiy imptctaal ooaiideratioa how
thit ttwago thoald bo ao( oaly ianoeaoailjr bat
profitably ditpottd of; aad if not profitably, i

By to thott who amy bo
itt owatrt (tho Maaidpal aathoritiot
of tho ktiMdeai), at Itatt profitably ia a aatjoaal
pojat of view, by itt aao ia tho nttoiatioa or
oaiiehBMat of tho i0ti% of tho toil, aad the
ooBoeqatat incrtato of tho food of man and boatt

Sir Gooigo Staaatta hat proaoaaeod ooom of
the tta-growing partt of Ohiaa to bo at Uooonag
at aa Roglith aobltaMOi't fioworgardta. Sfoij
jot of nMnnvt, hoaita ordnrt, wA all oUo, it
adaately ooUeetod, otoa \rj tho poortit

I hafo already gitta a popalar aetoaat of the
eonpotitioa of the awtrepolftaa towage^ At. (nader
tho head of Wot BoAitt), aad I bow give itt
tcientifie aaalyiit.

In iomedbtricUthe lewagoit Bore or leetliqaid
— in what proportion has not been aieertained —
and I giye, in the fint place, an analytis of the
sewage of the King's Scholars' Pond Sewer, West-
minster, the result having been laid before a Com-
mittee of the House of Commons. As the con-
tents of the great majority of sewers muai be
the same, because resulting from the same natural
or universally domestic causes (as in the refuse
of cookery, washing, surfiice-water, &c.), the ana-
lysis of the sewage of the King's Scholars' Pond
Sewer may be accepted at one of sewer-matter
generally.

Bvidence was given before the committee as to
the proportion of "land-drainage leoter" to what
was really vmanurtt in the matter derived from the
sewer in question. A produce of 140 grains of
manure was derived from a gallon of sewer-water.
Messrs. Brande and Cooper, the analyzers, also
state that one gallon (10 lbs. 1) of the liquid por-
tion of the sewage, evaporated to dryness, save
85*3 grains of solid matter, 74*8 grains of which
was again soluble, and contained —

Ammonia • • • • 8*29

Sulphuric acid • . • 0'62

Phosphate of lime . . . 0*29

Lime 6*25

Chlorine 10-00

" and potass and soda, with a large qnantitj of
soluble aad vegetable matter, aad 10*54 inaolnbU."
This insoluble portion connstod of

ifl
ifl

• I'M

1M4

Tho dtpotHftf I
grtiai^ of wUca S1*SS wwt c
cotspottd of aafaaal aatlet **!

Phetphatt of Ifaaa •
Osidtof iroa •
Otiotaatt of Inaa
Salphalt of liM
Sarthy aaticr atd ttad

tobi*y

Other Bopoffit m
what it dtierfbtd at ^tarthy i
is themae^ iBPd,aadthoBMrtaroranwBinaittdii
pavetBoat^ washed frtm tho aarfiwa off tba ttoatto
iatothottwcrtbyhatvyrtlat; odNnrinftrttt
BMMt part tat proper load of tat aattvaatr i ctit»

Farther aaalyttt aii^ ba addsMd^WlwiA
aiorely toeh varialioB ia tha laaill at it i»
evitaUo from tho ttalt of tba
Bowi^ itdnnra fsctikfar i
tho day oa which tUt it dona ]
or wot*.

It hat btta ateottabod, bat Um
tioa it aot, and peihapt eaanat bo^ giv
tho ezttat of oovored to amsotoraa aarfi
dittiiet diaiaed by tho Kiag^a Seboli
Sewer was as 8 to 1, while that of the
Sewer, not far distant, wat at 1 to 8, at the liaa
of the inquiry (1848).

" It could not be expected, therefero," sstji
the Beport, " that the Banelagh Sewer (whi^
moreover, is open to the admission of tho tide at
its mouth), in the quantity or quality of the no-
nure produced, could bear any proportion to the
King's SchoUrs* Pond Sewer."

Mr. Smith, of Deanston, stated in evideaeB,
that the average quantity of rain falling lais
King's Schobus' Pond Sewer waa 189,984,586
cubic feet in a year, and he aaaamee 6,000,000
tons as the amount of average minimum quantiiy
of drainage (yearly), yielding 4 cwt. of solid Bai-
ter in each 100 tons = 1 in 500. ,

o The following if the analysis of a nllaa of i
also dried to evaporation, by Protesor tlUler :~
Ammonia . . • • . . 94s

Phosphoric add vt\^

Potash ]<o>

Silica 0-54

Magnesia
Common salt .
Sulphuric add

It

•«7

Sulphuric add 7-04

Carbonic add 4*41

CombuBtible matter, oont^nlni^ 0-34

nitrogen 5^

Traces of oxide of iron.

Makfaig in solution • . . . 45*51

Ifattcn in suipentioD. 1
eomlmstible mattcn, saad.
andoaddeof hon , '. 4t4t

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

409

Dr. Granyille said, on the same inquiry, that
he should be sorry to receive on his land 500 tons
of diluted sewer water (such as that from the un-
covered Banelagh Sewer) for 1 ton of really fer-
tilizing sewage, such as that to be derived from
the King's Scholars' Fond Sewer.

I could easily multiply these analyses, and give
further parliamentary or official statements, but,
as the results are the same, I will merely give
some extracts from the evidence of Dr. Arthur
Hossall, as to the microscopic constituents of
sewage-water : —

" I have examined,'' he said, " the sewer-water
of several of the principal sewers of London. I
found in it, amongst many other things, much de-
composing vegetable matter, portions of the husks
and the hairs of the down of wheat, the cells of
the potato, cabbage, and other vegetables, while I
detected but few forms of animal life, those en-
countered for the most part being a kind of worm
or annelid, and a certain species of animalcule of
the genus monas.'*

** How do you account," the Doctor was asked,
" for the comparative absence of animal life in the
water of most sewers 1" ** It is, doubtless, to be
attributed/' he replied, "in a great measure, to the
large quantity of sulphuretted hydrogen contained
in sewer-water, and which is continually being
evolved by the decomposing substances included
in it."

" Have you any evidence to show that sewer-
water does contain sulphuretted hydrogen
in such large quantity as to be prejudicial and
even fatal to animal life 1 " '* With a view of de-
termining this question, I made the following
experiments : — A given quantity of Thames
-water, known to contain living infusoria, was
added to an equal quantity of sewer- water ; exa-
mined a few minutes afterwards, the animalculse
were found to be either dead or deprived of loco-
motive power and in a dying state. A small
fish, placed in a wine glass of sewer- water, imme-
diately gave signs of distress, and, after struggling
violently, floated on its side, and would have
perished in a few seconds, had it not been re-
moved and placed in fresh water. A bird placed
in a glass bell-jar, into which the gas evolved by
the sewer-water was allowed to pass, after strug-
gling a good deal, and showing other symptoms of
the action of the gas, suddenly fell on its side,
and, although immediately removed into fresh air,
was found to be dead. These experiments were
made, in the first instance, with the sewer water
of the Friar-street sewer (near the Blackfriars-
road) ; they were afterwards repeated with the
water of six other sewers on the Middlesex side,
and with the same result, as respects the animal-
cuke and fish, but not the bird ; this, although
evidently much affected by the noxious emanations
of the sewer-water, yet survived the experiment."

" Would you infer from these experiments that
sewer-water, as contained in the Thames near to
London, is prejudicial to health?" "I would,
most decidedly ; and regard the Thames in the
neighbourhood of the metropolis as nothing less
than diluted sewer-watcr."

" Tou have just stated that yo« found sewer-
water to contain much vegetable matter, and but
few forms of animal life; the vegetable matter
you recognised, I presume, by the character uf the
cells composing the several vegetable tissues]"
** Tes, as also by the action of iodine «• the starch |
of the vegetable matter." |

" In what way dp you suppose these various
vegetable cells, the husks of whe«^ &c, reach the
sewers 1" " They doubtless proceed from the j
faecal matter contained in sewage, and not in
general from the ordinary refuse of the kitchen,
which usually finds its vray into the dust-bin."

"Sewer-water, then, although containing but
few forms of animal life, yet contains, in hu^
quantities, the food upon which most animalculae
feed}" " Tes ; and it is this circumstance which
explains the vast abundance of infusorial life in
the water of the Thames within a few miles of
London."

The same gentleman (a Mow of the Linnaean
Society, and the author of " A History of the
British Fresh-water Algae," or water-weeds con-
sidered popularly), in answer to the following
inquiries in connection with this subject, also
said : —

" What species of infusoria represent the highest
degree of impurity in water 1" "The several
species of the genera Oxtftricha, and Faraau-
cium.**

** What species is most abundant in the Thames
firom Kew Bridge to Woolwich 1" " The Par<k-
mecium ChrytalU of Bhrenberg; this occurs in
all seasons of the year, and in all conditions of
the river, in vast and incalcuUtble numbers ; so
much so, that a quart bottle of Thames water, ob-
tained in any condition of the tide, is sure to be
found, on examination with the microscope, to
contain these creatures in great quantity."

" Do you find that the infusorium of which you
have spoken varies in number in the different
parts of the river between Eew Bridge and
Woolwich ] " "I find that it is most abundant
in the neighbourhood of the bridges." [Where
the outlet of the sewers is common.]

" Then the order of impurity of Thames water,
in your view, would be the order in which it ap-
proaches the centre of London 1" " Yes."

" You find then, in Thames water, about the
bridges, things decidedly connected with the
sewer tcater, as vegetable and animal matter in a
state of decomposition ]" " I do ; about the
bridges, and in the neighbourhood of London,
there is very little living vegetable matter on
which animalculae could live ; the only source of
supply which they have is the organic matUr con-
taiiud in sewer-icater, and which is to be regarded
as the food of these creatures. Where intusoria
abound, under circumstances not connected with
sewage, vegetable matter in a living condition is
certain to be met with."

Respecting the uses of the settage, I may add
the following brief observations. Without wishing
in any way to prejudice the question (indeed the
reader will bear in mind that I have all along
spoken reprovingly of the waste of sewage), I am

410

LOXDOy LABOUR AXD THE LOXDON POOR.

bound to wKf that the opinioiM I heard daring
my inquiry from gentlemen KientiBcmlly and, in
some initancei, practically familiar with the sub-
ject, concurred in the conclusion that the teieage
of the metropolis cannot, with all the applications
of scientific skill and apparatus, be made either
sufficiently portible or efficacious for the purposes
of manure to auure a proper pecuniary return.
In this matter, perhaps, spccukitors hare not
traced a sufficient distinction between the liquid
manure of the sewers and the ** povdrette,'* or dry
manure, manufactured from the more solid ex- '
cremfutiiious matter of the cesspools, not only ;
in Paris, but, until lately, cren in London, where
the business was chiefly in the hands of French-
men. The staple of the French *^ poudrette** is
not '* ttivafff," that is, the outpourings of the
sewers — fur this is carried into the Seine, and
washed away with little incouTenience, as the
tide hardly affects that rivrr in Paris; but it
is altogether " eesfpoolcuje" that is, the deposit
of the cesspools, collected in fixed and moreable
utensils, regulated by the " unirersal " police of
Faris, and conveyed by Government hibonrers to
the Voirees, which are huge reservoirs of nigbt-
i>oil at Muiitfuu^on, about five miles, and in the
Forest of Bondy, about ten miles, from the centre
of Paris. The London-made manure also was
all of cesspoolage ; the contents of the nightman's
cart being "shot" in the manufacturer's yard;
and when so manufactured was, I believe, with-
out exL-i-ption, ^cnt to the sugar growing colonics,
the fiirmcrs in the provinces pronouncing it " too
hot" for the ground. The same complaint, I may
obsoTVo, has been made of the French mnnufac-
turi'd ccHppool manun*. I heard, on the oih«'r
hiiiui, fi]);iiions from scii-ntific and practical genllc'-
nu-n. that the sewrr-watrr of London was so
diluted, it was not prohtably serviceable for the
irrigiiiion of land. All, however, nprpi'd that the |
sewage of lhi> niotropnils oiii^ht not to be wa-ted, ■
as it was certain that perseverance in experiment
(and perhaps a large outlay) were cerUiin to make
sewage of value.

Tlic following results, which the Br-ard of
Ilcallh have just issued in a Report, containing
" Minutes of Information attested on the Applica- '
tii'ii of Sewor-waler and Town Manures to Agri- ,
cultural Production," supply the latest information
on this subject. The Keport says first, that " to
be told that the average yield of a county is 30
liujihi'ls of wheat \vr acre, or that the average
weight of tlie tuniip crop is 15 tons per aero,
means very little, and there is little to be learned
from such intelligence ; but if it is shown that a
cerU'iiu fann under the ustuil mode of culture
yielded certain weights p»*r acre, and that the ,
same land, by improved applic<itions of the same
manure, by the use of machinery, and by cinplny- '
iuj double ihe numher of handu, at {ticn<i.<^d
viij'.f, is made to yield jonrfold the weight of
crop and of Utter rj^ualitv than was previously
obuiined, a lesson is set before us worth
learning."

It then proceeds to cite the following state-
ments, on the authority of the Hon. Dudley For-

tescue, as to the efficiency of sewage-water as a
liquid manure applied to land.

" The first farm we riaxted wai that of Cnig-
entinney, situated about one mile and a haj
south-east of Edinbnzgh, of which 260 Scctcli
acres" (a Scotch acre is one-foarth more than any
English acre) "receive a considerable proporticti
of such sewersgo as, nnder an imperfect system
of house-drainage, is at present deriTed from half
the city. The meadows of which it chiefly con-
sists have been pat nnder irrigation at rariou
times, the most recent addition being neariy oO
acres bid out in the course of last year and tht
year previous, which, lying abore the lerel of the
rest, are irrigated by means of a Bteam-en&ir.e.
The meadows first laid out am watered by contcur
channels following the inequalities of the grouui),
after the fashion commonly adopted in DtrtiH'
shire ; but in the more recent parts the ground is
disposed in 'panes' of half an acre, serred br
their respective feeders, a plan which, thocgh
somewhat more expensive at the ontsct, is foind
preferable in practice. The whole 260 screj
take about 44 days to irrigate; the mea
charged with the duty of shifting the writer
from one pane to another give to each pl-c
about two hours' irrigation at a time; and trie
engine serves its 60 acres in ten dajrs, work-
ing day and night, and eroplojring one man at the
engine and another to shift the crater. The p.n-
duce of the meadows is sold by auction on the
ground, 'rouped,' as it is termed, to the cow-
feeders of Edinburgh, the purchaser cutting and
carrying off all he can during the course of tks
letting, which extends from about the middle of
April to October, when the meadnw'g are shut n:,
but the irrigation is continued thmuiih the wint'-r.
The lettinsrs average somewhat over 2m/. the acn:
the highest last year having broirght IML, and m.-
lowe^t y/. ; these last were uf very limited iS-
tent, on land r. cently denuded in laying oijt ihu
ground, and consequently much below its n.ir-jr."
level of productiveness. There arc four cut:::;:?
in the year, and the collective weight of gnisa cl:
in parts was stated at the extraordinary amount
of SO tons the imperial .icre. The onfy cost 'i
maintaining these meadows, except those to whi.i
the water is pumped by the engine, consists in
the employment of two hands to turn on and u?
the water, and in the expense of clearing out tb*
channels, which was contracted for List ve.ar .ir
2l>/., anil the value of the refuse obt-iined ^*ai
considered fully equal to that sum, being nppHni
in manuring pnrts of the land for a crop of turi.i*.
which with only this dressing in addition to irri-
gation with the sewage- water presented the m:*:
luxuriant appearance. Ihe crop, from prei^nt
indications, was estimated at from 30 to 40 trus
the acre, and was expected to realize 15ji. the ton
sold on the land. From calculations made on the-
spot we estimated the produce of the meadow
during the eight months of cutting at the keep cf
ten cows per acre, exclusive of the difiti^;cr^' re-
fuse they consume in addition^ at a cost of ]*. t9
Is. 6(7. per head per week. The sea-meadoM
present a particularly striking example of thtf

LONDON LABOUR AND THB LONDON POOR.

411

efiects of the itrigation ; tbete, compnting between
20 and 80 acres skirting the shorn between
Leith and Musselboigfa, were laid down in 1826
at a cost of about 7002.; the land consisted
formerly of a bare sandy trsct, yielding almost
absolutely nothing; it is now covered with Inzu-
riant yegetation extending dose down to high-
water mark, and lets at an arerage of 20/. per
acre at least From the abore statement it will
be seen how enormously profitable has been the
application in this case of town refiiie in the
liquid form ; and I have no hesitatflon in stating
that, great as its advantages have been, they
might be extended lour or £▼• fold by greater
dilution of the fluid. Four or five times the ex-
tent of land might, I beUeve, be brought into
equally productive cnltivadon under an improved
system of dninage in the dty, and a more abun-
dant use of water. Besides these Oraigentinney
meadows, there are others on this and on the
west side of Edinburgh, whkh we did not yisit,
nmiUrly laid out, and I believe realizing still
larger profits, from their closer proximity to the
town, and their lying within "die toll-gates." *

Such, then, are said to be the resnltt of a prac-
tical application of sewei^watez. The preliminnry
remark of the Board of Health, however, applies
somewhat to the statement abore given ; for we
are not told what the fame land produced before the
liquid manure was applied ; nor are we informed
as to the peculiar condition and quantity of the
land near Oraigentinney, and how it differs from
the land near London.

The other returns are of liquid manures, of
which sewer-water formed no part, and, therefore,
require no special notice of them. The following
observations are, however, worthy of attention : —

" The cases above detailed fumiBh some measure
of the possible results attainable in cultivation,
especially corroborated as they are by others
which did not on this occasion cone under our
personal observation, but one of which I may
mention, having recently examined into it, that of
Mr. Dickinson, at Willesden, who estimates his
yield of Italian rye-grass at from 80 to 100 tons
an acre, and gets 8 or 10 cuttings, according to
the season ; and as there is no peculiar advantage
of soil or dimate (the former ranging from almost
pore sands to cold and tenacious clays, and the
latter being inferior to that of a large proportion
of England) to prevent the same system being
almost universally adopted, they giro some idea of
the degree to which the prodoctiTeness of land
may be raised by a judidous appliance of the
means within our reach. When it is considered

* The follcmiof; note appears in Mr. Fortcseue^s
stetancBt :— '* In Mme trial works near the metropoiis
sewer water was applied to land, on the condition that
the ▼alvc of half the extra crop should t)e talien as ray-
ment. The dressings were only siofda dtessingf. The
oflloer nakioff the valaatlon repotted, that there was at
the least one sack of wheat and one load of straw per
acre extra tram its application on ooo brtsAh of tend ;
in another, ftill one (tuaxter of wheat more, ead one load

of straw extra per acre. The reports of the eftets of
lewer-water in increasinc the yield of oets as well as of
wheat were equally MM. It la stated t»y Gaptatai Vetch

that in South America Irrigation is used with graat ad-
vantage for wheat."

fkaX inch remhs may, in the vklvty of towns
and vilkges, be most effectually bmight about by
the instant removal of all those matters which,
when allowed to remain in them, are among the
most fruitful sources of social degradation, disease,
and death, one cannot but eamesthr desire the
furtherance of such meatores as will ensure this
double result of pnrifying the town and enriching
the country ; and as the fiicts I have stated came
at the same time under the notice of the gentleman
I mentioned aboTo, under whose able snperin-
tendence the arrangements for the water-supply
and drainage of several towns are now in course
of execution, I trust it will not be long before this
most advantageous mode of disposing of the refuse
of towns may be brought into practical operation
in various parts of the country.

" I have, &c.,

*' D. F. FOBTESOUl.

<' Geneial Board of Health."

Or TBE KXW PlIJI of SBWERiai.

This branch of the subject hardly forms part of
my present inquiry, but, having pointed out the
defects of the sewers, it seetns but reasonable and
right to say a few words on the measures deter-
mined upon for their improToment. It is only
necessary for me, howeyer, to indicate the prindpal
characteristics of the new, or rather intended,
mode of sewerage, as the work may be said to
have been but commenced, or hardly commenced
in earnest, the Beport of Mr. Frank Forster (the
engineer) bearing the date of Jan. 80, 1851.

In the carrying out of the engineer's plan —
which from its magnitude, and, in all human
probability, from its cost^ when completed, would
be national in other countries, but is here only
metropolitan — in the carrying out of this scheme, I
say, two remarkable changes will be foimd. The
one is the employment of the power of steam in
sewerage ; the other is the diversion of the sewage
from the current of the Thames. The ultimate
uses of this sewage, agriculturally or otherwise,
form no part of the present consideration.

I should, however, first enumerate the general
principles on which the best authorities have
agreed that the London sewers should be con-
structed so as to ensure a proper disposal of the
sewage, for these principles are said to be at the
basis of Mr. Forster*s plan.

I condense under the following heads the sub-
stance of a mass of Beports, Committee Meetings,
Suggestions, Flans, &c. : —

1. The channds, or pipeage, or other means of
conveying away house-refuse, should be so made
that the removal will be immediate, more especially
of any refute or filth capable of suspendon in
water, since its immediate carrying off, it is said,
would leave no time for the generation of miasma.

2. Means should be provided for such disposal
of sewage as would prevent its tainting any
stream, wdl, or pool, or, by its stagnation or
obstruction, in any way poisoning the atmosphere.
And, as a natural and legitimate result, it should
be so eoUicUd thai it could It applitd to Ike cuU*-
ration ^ th€ Imd at tha matl •eonwniaa nle.

412

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

3. In the providing worki of deposit or storage
in low districts, or '* of diBchorge where the natural
outletB arc free/' such worki should be provided
ai would not subject any place, or any man's pro-
perty, to the risk of inundation, or any other evil
consequence ; while in the construction of the
dniinage of the substratum, the works should b;>
at such a depth below the foundation of all
buildings that tenements should not be exposed
to that continued damage from exhalation and
dampness which leads to the dry rot in timber,
and to an immature decay of materials and a
general unhealthiness. |

There are other points insifttcd upon in many i
Beports to which I need but allude, such as >

(a.) The channels containing sewage should be j
of enduring and impermeable material, so as to
]>revent all soakage. '

{I.) There should be throughout the channels of

the north or Middlesex bank of the Thames ; ud
the southern portion, or that which is on the sootii
or Surrey side of the river.

The northern portion is in the new plan con-
sidered to " divide itself into two separate areas,"
and to these two areas different modes of sewecagv
arc to be applied :

" 1. The interception of the drainage of tu:
district, which, from its elevation aboTe the level
of the outlet, is capable of having its sewage aad
r.iinfall carried off by gravitation.

'' 2. The interception of the drainage of that
district, which, from its low lying position, viil
require its sewage, and in most loc^itics iu zaio-
fall, to be lifted by steam-power to a proper level
for discharge."

The first district runs from Holsden-green (b^
yond the better-known Kensall-green) in tke
west, to the Tower Hamlets in the east. Iu fboa

the subterranean metropolis a f.ill or inclination ' is irregular, but not very much so, merely namv>
which would Bufiice to prevent the accumulation | ing from Westboum-green to its western eztR^
of any sewage deposit, with its deleterious in- . mity, the country then becoming rural or wood-
lluencc and ultimate costliness. hind. Its highest reaches to the north are ts

(('.) Similar provisions should be used were it I Uighgate and Stamford-hill. The nearest a>
but to prevent the creation of the noxious g.ises proach to the south is to a portion of the Sttani,

which now permeate many houses (especially in
the quarters inhabited by the poor) and e£cap>o
into nwny streets, courts, and alleys, for until
improvements are effected the i>ent-up sewage and
the saturated brickwork of the sewers and older
drains niUMt generate such gases.

((/.) No tidal stream should ever receive a
flow of sewage, because then the cause of evil is
never absent, for the iilth comes back with the
tide; and as the Thames water constitutes the
grand fount of metropolitan consumption, the
water companies, with very trifling exceptions,
jj;i\e U8 back much of dur own excrement, mixed
witii every cdncoivable, and somoiimes noxious,

between Charing-cross and Dmry-lane. Care hsi
evidently been token to skirt this district, so to
speak, by the canals and the railroads. This di*
vibion of the northern portion is described si
" the district for natural drainage.'*

The area of this division is abont 251 Bqnan
miles.

The second division meets the first at the higl*
way separating Kensington-gardens from Bsp-
water ; and runs on, bordering the river, all the
way to the West India Dock. Its shape is im-
gnlar. but, abating the roundness, presents 6om^
whiit of that sort of figure seen in the instrumn::
known as a dumb-bell, the narrowest or haiid*

nasiineas, with which we may brew, cook, and I part being tliat between Charing-cross and Drurv-
wabh — and drink, if we can. Filtering remedies j lane, skirling the river as ibj southern bound. At

but u portion of the evil.

Now it would apprar that not one of tliesc
requirt-monts, the necessity of which is unqui*s-
tii>ned and unquestionable, is fully carried out by
the pn-seut system of sewenige, and hence llio
need of sonic lu-w plan in which the defects may
be remedied, and the proper principles carried out.

The instructions given by the Court wire lo
the ioUowing elFcct : —

A. The Thames should be kept free from sewage
wlialcver the 8tiite of the tide.

li. There should be inUTcepting drains to carry
oil' the hewage (so keeping the Tiiamcs unsoiled
by it) wherever practicable.

C. Thf wwage should be raised by arliiicial
means into a main channel for riMuoval.

i>. The intercepting MMvers should be so con-

its e;ujtern end this second district widens ab-
ruptly, taking in Victoria-park, Stratford, ani

I liromley.

I The area of this division of tlio northern ptr-
tion is IG^ square miles.

I There are, moreover, two small tracts. c.:>n:-

, i)ri.-,ing the southeni part of the Isle of Do-ra, and
a narrow slip on the west side of the river Lea,

! which are intended to allow the raiiu'aU lo ruD
into the Thames and the Lea respt;cti\elv.

I The area of the two is 1 ^ square mile.

1 The area lo be dniined by natural ojiitall com-

, prises, then, 'Z^l square mik-a as rog:irds rainfall,
and the same extent as regards sewa^e ; while the

I area to the drainage of which steam" power is i>
be applied comprises 14 i square miles of rainfalL,
and lt),l square miles of sewage: the two united

strutted as to secure the largi-st amount of eifective I arejis of rainfall and sewage respcctivelv being
drainage without artiiicial appliances. | i3U.J^ and 41^ square miles.

In prej)aring his plan, Mr. Forster had the ad- | The length of the great " high-level sewerage**
vice and ajsislanco of 3Ir. Haywood, of the City i will be, as regards the main sewer, ly mile* and
Court of Sewers. | 106 yards; that of the ** low-level Sewerage," 14

The metropolis is divided into two portions — I miles and 150l yards.
** the northern portion of the metropolis," or i I will now describe the course of each of these
rather that i>ortion of the metropolis which is on i constructions.

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

413

er

K

s

c

t

On tBe eastern Vank of tlie Lea tbe sewage of
both districts is to be concentrated. Tbe high-
level sewer will commence and erou the Lea near
the " Four Mills." It is then to proceed " in a
westerly direction under the £ast and West India
Dock Bailway and the Blackwall Extension Bail-
wny, beneath the RegentVcanal, to the east end
of the Bethnal-green-road, at the crossing of the
Carobridge-heath-road, at which point it will be
joined by the proposed northern diyision of the
Hackney-brook, which drains an extensive dis-
trict up to the watershed line north of London,
including Hackney, Stoke Newington and Hollo-
way, and part of Highgate and Hampstead ; from
thence the main sewer proceeds along the Bethnal-
green-road. Church-street, Old-street, Wilderness-
row (where a short branch from Coppice-row will
join) to Brook-street-hill ; from thence to Little
Saffron-hill, where a distance of about 100 yards
is proposed to be carried by an aqueduct over the
Fleet-valley; thence along Liquorpond-street, at
the end o€ which it will receive a branch from
Piccadilly, on the south side, and a diversion of
the Fleet-river, on the north side ; thence along
Theobald's-road, BlooBubury- square. Hart-street,
Kew Oxford-street, to Bathbone-place (where it
will receive n diversion of the Regent-street sewer
from Park-crescent), along Oxford-street, and ex-
tending thence across Kegent-circus to South
Molton-hine (where it will intercept the King's
Scholars' Pond sewer), continuing still along Ox-
ford-street to Bayswater-plaoe, Grand Junction-
road, Uxbridge-road, where it is joined by the
Banelagh sewer, the sewage of which it is capable
of receiving, and at this point it terminates."

It is difficult to convey to a reader, especially
to a reader who may not be funiliar with the
localities of London generally, any adequate no-
tion of the largeness, speaking merely of extent,
of this undertaking. Even a map conveys no
sufficient idea of it.

Perhaps I may best be able to suggest to a
reader's mind a knowledge of this largeness, when
I state that in the district I have just described,
which is but ont portion (although the greatest) of
the sewerage of but one side of the Thames,
more than half a million of persons, and nearly
100,000 houses are, so to speak, to be sewered.

The low-level tract sewerage, also, concentrates
on the Lea, " near to Four MUri distillery, taking
the north-western bank of the Limehouse Cut, at
which point it receives the branch intended to in-
tercept the sewage of the Isle of Dogs ; thence
continuing along the bank of Limehouse Cut,
through a portion of the Commercial-road, Brook-
street, and beneath the Sun Tavern Fields, into
High-street, or Upper Shadwell ; thence along
Batclifle-highway and Upper East Smithfield,
across Tower-hill, through Little and Great Tower-
streets, Eastcheap, Cannon-street, Little and Great
St. Thomas Apostle, Trinity-lane, Old Fish-
street, and Little Knight Eider-street ; thence
beneath houses in Wardrobe-terrace, and on the
eastern side of St Andrew's-hiU, along Earl-
street to Blackfriars • road. From Bkckfriars
Bridge it is proposed to construct the sewer along

the river shore to the junction of the Victoria-
street sewer at Percy- wharf ; which sewer be-
tween Percy-wharf and Shaftesbury-terrace. Piin-
lico, becomes thus an integral portion of the in-
tercepting line ; at Bridge-street, Westminster, a
branch from the Victoria-street sewer is intended
to proceed along Abingdon and Millbank-streets,
as far as and for the purpose of taking up the
King's Scholars* Pond and other sewers at tlieir
outlets into the Thames. From Shaftesbury-ter-
race the Victoria-street sewer is proposed to be
extended through Eaton-square and along tbe
King's-road, Chelsea, to Park-walk, intercepting
all the sewers along its line, and terminating at a
point where the drainage of Kensington may be
iarought into it without pumping."

The lines of sewerage thus described are, then,
all to the tcett of the Lea, and all, whether from
the shore of the Thames, or the northern reaches
in Highgate and Hampstead, converging to a
pumping station or sewage-concentration, on the
east bank of the Lea, in West Ham. By this
new plan, then, the high-level sewer is to crons
the ten, but that arrangement is impossible as
respects the second district described, which is
hdow the level of the Lea, so that its course is to
be henecUh that river, a little below where it is
crossed by the high-level line. To dispose of tbe
sewage, therefore, conveyed from the low-levai
tract, there will be a sewer of a "depth oi forty-
seven feet below" the invert of the high-level
sewer. This sewer, then, at the depth of 47 feet,
will run to the point of concentration containing
the low-level sewage.

At this point of the works, in order that the
sewage may be collected, so as to be disposed
of ultimately in one masa, it has to be lifted from
the low to the high-level sewer. The invert of
the high-level sewer will at the lifting or pumping
station be 20 feet above the ordnance datum,
while that of the low-level sewer will be 27 feet
below the same standard. Thus a great body of me-
tropolitan sewage, comprising among other districts
the refuse of the whole City of London, must be
lifted no less than 47 feet, in order to be got rid
of along with what has been carried to the same
focus by its natural flow.

The lifting is to be effected by means of steam,
and the pumping power required has been com-
puted at 1100-horse power. To supply this great
mechanical and scientific force, there are to be pro-
vided two engines, each of 550-horse power, with
a third ehgine of equal capacity, to be available
in case of accident, or while either of the other
engines might require repairs of some duration.

The northern sewage of London (or that of the
Middlesex bank of the Thames, covered by that
division of the capital) having been thus brought
to a sort of central reservoir, or meeting point,
will be conveyed in two parallel lines of sewerage
to the bank of the river Roding, being the eastern
extremity of Gallion's Reach (which is below-
Woolwich Reach), in the Thames. The Roding
flows into the Thames at Barking Creek mouth.
The length of this line will be four miles.

"At this point,** it is stated in the Report,

Hi

LOXDOy LABOUR AND THE LOXDON POOR,

'* the level of the inrerti of the pAnillel lewen
will be eight feet below high-water mark, and
here it is intended to collect the sewage into a
reservoir during the flood-tide, and diicharge the
lame with the ebb-tide immediatelj after high-
water ; and, ai it it eitimated that the reienoir
will be completely emptied during the first three
hours of the ebb, it may be safely anticipated that
no portion of the sewage will be returned, with
the fluod-tide, to within the bounds of the metro-
polis."

The whole of the sewage and rainfall, then,
will Ite thus dirorted to one destination, instead of
being issued iiitJ the river through a multiplicity
of outlets in every part of the northern shore
where the population is dense, and will be carried
into the Thames at Barking Creek, unless, as I
huvc intimated, a market be found for the sewage ;
when it may bo disposedof ns is most advantagt^ons.
The only exceptions to this carrying olT yi\\\ be
upon the occurrence of long-continued and )ii>avy
rains or violent storms, when the surplus water
will be carried olT by some of the present outlets
into the river ; but even on such occasions, the first
scour or cloinsings of the sewerage will be con-
veyed to the main outlet at the river Roding.

The inclination which has been assigned to the
whole of the lines of sewers I have described, is,
with some unimportant exceptions, 4 feet per mile,
or 1 in 1320. These new sewers are, or rather will
be, calculated to carry off a fall of rain, equal to
\ inch in *24 hours, in addition to the average daily
flow of sewage.

Mr. Forster concludes his Report: — " I am only
able to submit approximately that I estimate the
cnst of the whole of the lines of sewers, the
pumpincf en-riiM's, and station, the reservoir, tidal
gatt.'8. and oihi-r apparatus, at one million and
cijjhty thousand poundn (1,0S0,000/.)- This esti-
mate does not include the sums required for the
purchase of land and houhes*. which may be needed
for tlie site of the pumpin;; engine-house, or coni-
pen.sition for cert^iiii portions of the lines of
sewers."

As regards the improvements in the sewerage
on the siuiih tfide of the Thames (the great fever
district of the iii»'iropolis, and consequently the
most important of all, and where the drainage is
of the wor-tt kind), I can be very brief, as nothing
has been pomtivrly (U-termined.

A somewhat similar sytera will be adopted on
the south side of the Thames, where it is pro-
posed to font) one mxiin inlerccj»ting sewer ; but.
owing to the physical configunition of this |>art of
the town, none of the water will flow away en-
tirely by ;»niviiation. There will Iw a pumping
station on th" banks of the Ravensbnurne, to
raise the wat-r about 25 feet; and a second
pumping stati m to raise the water from the con-
tinurd <»e\ver in the resrvolr, in \Voolwich Marsh,
which is to r'-ci-ivo it during the intervals of the
tidca. The waters arc to be discharged into the
river at the last-named point. The niain sewer
on the south side will be o( nearly equally colossal
proportions ; f„r its total length "is proposed to be
about 13 miles 3 fnrlongs, including the main

trunk drain of abont 2 milei long, and the re-
spective faranchei. The area to be relieved is
about proportionate to the length of the dram;
but the steam power employed will be propo^
tionally greater upon the soatbem than upon the
northern side.

There are divers opinions, of coarse, as to the
practicability and ultimate good working of this
plan ; speculations into which it ii not necessary
for me to enter. Hr. Forster has, moreover, r«
signed his oflice, adding another to the many
changes among the engineers, surveyors, and other
empIoy(5« under the Metropolitan Commission; a
fiut little creditable to the management of the
Commissioners, who, with one exception, may be
looked upon as irresponsible.

Of tue Mahaobment of the Sewuss xsh
TOE LATK Commissions.

The Corporation of the Citj of London may be
regarded as the first Commission of Sewers in the
exercise of authority over such places as reganU
the removal of the fllth of towns. In time, bat
at what time there is no accoon^ the business vai
consigned to the management of a committee, ai
arc now the markets of the City (Markets Con-
niittee), and even what maybe called the manage-
ment of the Thames (Navigation Committee). It
is not at all necessary that the members of these
committees should understand anything about the
matters upon which they have to determine. A
staff of officers, clerks, secretaries, aoHcitors, and ia«>
veyors, save the members the trouble of thought or
inquiry ; they have merely to vote and determine.
It wa^ stated in evidence before a Select Com^li^
tee of th? House of Commons on the subject of iHe
Thames steamers, that at that period the Chai^
man of the Naeigation Committee was a bread
and biscuit baker, but " a very-flrm -minded man."
In time, but ai:ain I can find *no note of the pre-
cise date, the CommitUc became a Coui-t of Sew.?r»,
anil so it remains to the present time. Commis-
sions of sewers have been issued bv the Crown
eince the 2.'>th yc;ir of the reign of Jlenrj- VIIL,
except duiing the era of the Commonwealth, when
there seems to have been no attention paid to the
matter.

As the metropolis increased rapidly in size since
the cl.^se of the last century, the public aewers of
cMuirse increased in pr.)portion. and so did Commis-
sions of J:5cwer8 in the newly-built distri^-ts. Cp
U 1817 these Commissions or Court of Sewert
wen a'f/fit in number, the metropolis being divided
into that number of districts.

The districts were as follows :

1. The City.

The Tower Ilamlets.

J^t. Kaiherinc.

Poplar and lilackwall.

Ilolboni and Finsbury.

Westminster and part of Middlesex.

7. ^Surrey and Kent.

8. (irei-nwich.

Each of these eight Commissions had its own
Act of Parliament ; its own distinct, ofien irregular

3.
4.

6.

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

415

nnd generally uncontroned plan of management;
each had its own officers ; and each had its own
patronage. Bach district court — with almost un*
liinited powers of taxation — pursaed its own plans
of sewerage, little regardful of the plans of its
neighbour Commiasion. This wretched system —
the great recommendation of which, to its promo-
ters and supporters, seems to have been patronage
— has given us a sewerage unconnected and vary-
ing to the present day in almost every district ;
var>-ing in the dimensions, form, and inclination
of the stnictures.

The eight c(«imission districts!, I may observe,
had each their sub- districts, though the "general
control wns in the hands of the particular Court
or Board of Commissioners for the entire locality.
These subdivisions were chiefly for the facilities of
mte-collecting, and were usually " western," "east-
em,*' nnd "central."

The consequence of this immethodical system
has been that, until the surveys and works now in
progress are completed, the precise character, and
even the precise length, of the sewers must be
unknown, though a sufficient approximation may
be deduced in the interim.

To show the conflicting character of the sewer-
age, I may here observe that in some of the old
sewers have been found walls and arches crumbling
to pieces. Some old sewers were found to be not
only of ample proportions, but to contain subter-
ranean chambers, not to lay halls, filled with filth,
into which no man could venture. While in a
sewer in the newly -built district of St John'a-
wood, Mr. Morton, the Clerk of Works, could
only advance stooping half double, could not turn
round when he oad completed his examination,
but had most painfully — for along time feeling the
effects — to back out along the sewer, stooping, or
doubled up, as he entered it. Why the sewer
wns constructed in this manner is not stated, but
the work appears, inferentially, to have been
icamped, which, had there been a proper super-
vision, could hardly have been done with a modem
public sewer, down a thoteughiare of some length
(the Woronzow-road).

But the conflicting and disjointed system of
sewerage was not the sole evil of the various Com-
missions. The mismanagement and jobbery, not to
say peculation, of the public moneys, appear to have
been enormous. For instance, in the " Aecount-
ant's Report" (February, 1848), prepared by Mr.
W. H. Grey, 48, Lincoln's-inn-fields, I find the
following statements relative to the Book-keeping
of the several Commissions : —

" The Westmiiuter plan is full of unnecessary
repetition. It is deficient in those real gener^
accounts which concentrate the information most
needed by the Commissioners, and it contains
Jicttont which are very inconsistent with any
sound system of book-keeping.

"The ledger of the Westminster Commission
does not give a true account of the actual receipt
and expenditure of each district

" The Eolbom and Finsbury books are still
more defective than those of the Westminster
Commission There are the same kind of

Jietumt. But the extraordinary defect in

these books consists in the utter want of system
throughout them, by keeping one-sided accounts
only in the ledger, with respect to the diflFerent
sewers in each districty showing only the amount
expended on each.

" The Totter Hamleti books have been kept on
a regular system, though by no means one con-
veying much general information."

" With respect to the Surreif attd Kent ac-
counts," says Mr. Grey, " the books produced are
the most incomplete and unsatisfactory that ever
came under my observation. The ledger is always
thought to be a sine pi& non in book-keeping ;
but here it has been dispensed with altogether,
for that which is so marked is no ledger at all."

Under these circumstances, the Aeport con-
tinues, " It cannot be wondered at that debts
should have been incurred, or that they should
have swollen to the amount of 54,000^., carryings
a yearly interest of 28602., besides annuities
granted to the amount of 1125/. a year.

" The Poplar and Greenwich accounts (I quote
the official Keport), confined as they are to mere
cash books, offer no subjects for remark -» .

" No books of account have been produced with
respect to the St Katkerines Commission."

On the I6th December, 1847, the new 0«i-
missioners ordered all the books to be sent to the
office in Greek-street; but it was not until the
21st February, 1848, that all the roinute-bookf
were produced. There were no aiudtxes for many
years even to the proceedings of cna Courts ; and
the account-books of one of the local Courts, if
they might be so called, were in such a state that
the book called " ledger" had for several years
been cast up in pencil only.

This refers to what may be characterised, with
more or less propriety, as mismanaffemeni or neg-
lect,• though in such mismanagement it is hardly
possible to escape one inference. I now come to
what are direct imputations of Jolbery, and
where tfuU is flourishing or easy, no system can
be other than vicious.

In a paper " printed for use of Commissioners"
(Sept. 7, 1848), entitled " Draft Report on the
Surrey Accounts," emanating from a " Ckneral
Purposes' Committee," I find the following, con-
cerning the parliamentary expenses of obtaining
nn Act which it was " found necessary to repeal."
The cost was, altogether, upwards of 1800/., which
of course had to be defrayed out of the taxes.

*' This Act," says the Report, " authorized an
almost unlimited borrowing of money ; and t'mme-
diaUlyupon iUpamngy in July, 1847, notices were
issued for works estimated to amount to 100,000/. ;
and others, we understand, were projected for

early execution to the amount of 800,000/

Considering the general character of the woriu
executed, and from them judging of those pro-
jected, it may confidently be averred that the
whole sum, of 800,000/., the progressive expendi-
ture of which was stayed by the ' supersedeas' of
the old Commission, would have been expended
in icasU" [The Italics are not thoie of tha Re-
ports.]

No. L.

^^

il6

LOXDOX LABOUR ASD TEE LOXDOS POOR.

The Report continues, " It is to be oUerred ;
that each of the district lorreTAri woald have ;
particip:ited in the sum of 16,000/. percentage ,
on the expenditure for the eztenai'D of the Surrey
works. Thus the sorvejorf, n-ith their percent- ;
ages on the works executed, and the clerk, bj
the fees on contracts, &c, had a dirtci itUerest
in a largi exptHdilure,"

Instances of the same dishonest kind might be \
moiti plied to almost any extent. |

After the above evidences of the incompetency i
and dishonesty of the several district Commissions |
— and the BeporU from which they are copied '
contain many more examples of a similar and
even worse description — it is not to be wondered at
that in the year 1847 the district courts were,
with the exception of the City, superseded by the
aothoritr of the Crown, and formed into one
body, the present Metropolitan Conunission of
Sewers, of the constitution and powers of which I
shall DOW proceed to speak.

Of TBI Powers ahd AurnoRirr or toe

PRKSKKT CuMMISSIOVS OF SeWEX8.

Iir 1847 the eight separate Commissions of Sewers
were abolished, and the whole condensed, by the
GoTemment, into om Commission, with the excep-
tion of the City, which seems to supply an excep-
tion in most public matters.

The Act does not fix the number of the Com-
missioners. To the Metropolitan Commissioners,
five City Conuiissioners are added (the Lord
Mayor for the year being one ex officio) ; these
have a right to act as members of the Metro-
politan Board, but their powers in this capacity
ore loosely defined by the Act, and they mrciy
attend, or p^rhnps never attend, unless the busi-
ness in Bome wny or otlicr affects their distinct
jurisdiction.

The Commissioners (of whom twelve form a
quorum) are unpaid, with the exception of the
chairman, Mr. K.Lawes, a barrister, who has 1 000^
a year. Th«*y are appointed for the term of two
years, revocable at pleasure.

The authority of the City Commission, as dis-
tinct from the Metropolitan, for there are two
separate Acts, seems to be more strongly defined
than that of the others, but the principle is the
same throughout. The Metropolitan Act bears
date September 4, 1848 ; and the City Act, Sep-
tember 5, 1848.

The Metropolitan Commissioners have the con-
trol over **the sewers, drains, watercourses, weirs,
dams, banks, defences, gratings, pipes, conduits,
culverts, sinks, vaults, cesspools, rivers, reservoirs,
engines, sluices, penstocks, and other works and
apparatus for the collection and diKharge of rain-
water, surplus land or spring-water, waste water,
or filth, or fluid, or semi-fluid refuse of all descrip-
tions, and for the protection of land from floods
or inundation within the limits of the Commis-
sion." Ample as these powers seem to be, the
(Commissioners' authority docs not extend over the
Thames, which is in the jurisdiction of the Lord
Mayor and Corporation of the City of London ;

and i: appears childi&h to gire men control orer
" rivers," and to empower them to take measuei
" for the protection of ]MrA from floods or inui-
dation,** while over the great metropolitan stream
itself, from Tontlet Creek, below GraTeaend^ to
Oxford, they have no power whatever.

The Commissioners (City as well aa Metropoli-
tan) are empowered to enforce proper honaediain-
age wherever needed ; to regulate the boilding of
new houses, in respect of water-closets, ecMpooIs,
&c.; to order any street, staircase, or passage not
effectually cleansed to be efiectuaUy deanaed ; to
remedy all nuisances having insanitary tendencies;
to eneipublie water-closets and urinala, free bom
any charge to the poblic; to order hooaea and
rooms to be whitewashed ; to erect places for depo-
siting the bodies of poor persons deceased until
interment; and to regulate the cleanliness, ven-
tilation, and even accommodation of low lodgii^
houses.

The jurisdiction of the Metropolitan
sioners of Sewers extends over "all sw
or parts in the counties of Middlesex, Sorrey,
Essex, and Kent, or any of them not miore tAan
twtlvt mile* dittant in a straiakt lim from SL
PauCs Cathedral, in the City qf London, bat not
being within the City of Iiondon or the libotiet
thereof."

This, it must be confessed, is an exceedingly
broad definition of the extent of the jurisdiction of
the Metropolitan Commission, giving the Coouut-
sioners an extraordinary amount of laiitmde.

In our days there are many Londons. Theft
is the London (or the metropoUtan apportionment
of the capital) as defined by the Rc^tnr-6ene-
ml. Thif, as we have seen, has an area of 115
square miles, and therefore may be said to com-
prise as nearly as possible all those places which
are rather more than Jive miles distant from the
Post Office.

There is the Metropolis as defined by the Pott-
Officc functionaries, or the limits assigned to
what is termed the " London District Post." This
London District Post seems, however, to have
three different metropolises : — First, there is ths
Central Metropolis, throughout which there is
an hourly delivery of letters after mid-day, and
which deliveries are said to be confineid to
" London*' Then there is the six- delivery Metro-
j>olis, or that throughout which the letters aro des-
patched and received six times per day ; this is said
to extend to such of the "environs** as are included
within a circle of three miles from the Qeneral
Post Office. Then there is the six-mile Metropolis
with special privileges. And lastly, the ivelve-miie
Metropolis, which, being the extreme range of the
London District Post, may be said to constitute
the metropolis of the General Post Office.

There is, again, the metropolis of the Metropo*
litan Commissioners of Police, before the region
of rural police and country and parish constables
is attained; a jurisdiction which covers 96 square
milcs,as I have shown at pp. 163-166 of the present
volume, and reaches — generally speaking — to such
places as are included within a circle of Jive miles
and a halj from the General Post Office.

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

417

There is, moreover, the metropolis, as dsAned
hy the Hackney-Carriage Act, which comprises all
snch places as are within jive mtUs of the Qenend
Post Office.

. And further, there is the Metropolis of the
London City Mission, which extends to eiffht mtUi
from the Post Office, and the Metropolis, again, of
the London Bagged Schools, which reaches to
about three miles from the Post Office.

This, however, is not all, for there are divers
districts for the registration and exercise of votes,
parliamentary, or municipal ; there are ecclesias-
tical and educational districts ; there is a thorough
complication of parochial, extra-parochial, and char-
tered districts ; there is a world of subdivisions
and of sub-subdivisions, so ramified here and so
closely blended there, and often with such prepos-
terous and arbitrary distinctions, that to describe
them would occupy more than a whole Number.

My present business, however, is the extent of
the jurisdiction of the Metropolitan Commissioners
of Sewers^ or rather to ascertain the boundaries of
that metropolis over which the Metropolitan Com-
missioners arc allowed to have sway.

The many discrepancies and differences I have
explained make it difficult to defiM any district
for the London sewerage ; and in the Reports, &c.,
which are presented to Parliament, or prepared by
public bodies, little or no care seems to be taken
to observe any distinctiveness in this respect.

For instance : The jurisdiction of the Metropoli-
tan Commission of Sewers, which is said to extend
to all such places as are not more than 12 miles
distant in a straight line fi:om St. Paul's Cathedral,
in the City of London, comprises an area of 452
square miles; the metropolis, that of the Registrar-
General, presenting a radius of 6 miles (with a
fractional addition), contains 115 square miles;
yet in official documents 58 square miles, or a
circle of about i\ miles radius, are given as the
extent of the metropolis sewered by the Metropo-
litan Commission. By what calculations this 58
miles are arrived at, whether it has been the arhi-
trium of the authorities to consider the sewers,
&c., as occupying the half of the area of the Regis-
trar-(General's metropolis, or what other reason has
induced the computation, I am unable to say.

The boundaries of the several metropolises may
be indicated as follows : —

The Three-Mile Cirele includes Camberwell ;
•kirts Peckham ; seems to divide Deptford (irre-
gularly) ; touches the West India Dock ; includes
portions of Limehouse, Stepney, Bromley, Strat-
tbrd-le-Bow, and about the h^f of Victoria-park,
Hackney. It likewise comprises a part of Lower
Clapton, Dalston, and a portion of Stoke New-
ington ; and closely touching upon or containing
•null portions of Lower Holloway, and Kentish-
town, sweeps through the Regent's and Hyde
parks, includes a moiety of Chelsea, and crossing
the river at the Red-house, Battersea, completes
the circle. This is the six-deUvery district of the
Oeneral Post Office.

In this three-mile district are chiefly eondensed
the popolatian, commerce, and wealth of the
greatest and richest city in the world.

The S^MiU CirtU mm from Streatham (on
the south); just excludes Sydenham; contains
within its exterior line Lewisham, Greenwich,
and a part of Woolnkh ; also, wholly or partially.
East Ham, Laytonstone, Walthamstow, Totten-
ham, Homsey, Highgate, Hampstead, Eensall-
green. Hammersmith, Fulham, Wandsworth, and
Upper Tooting. The portion without the thrM-
mile circle, and within the six, is the tuburban
portion or the immediate environs of the metropo-
lis, and still presents rural and woodland beauties
in different localities. This may be termed the
metropolis of the Registrar-General and Commit*
sioners of Metropolitan Police.

The Titelve-MUe Circle, or the extent of the
jurisdiction of the Metropolitan Commissioners of
Sewers, as well as the " London District Post," in-
cludes Croydon, Wick ham, Paul's Cray, Foot's Cray,
North Cray, and Bexley; crosses the river at the
Erith-reach; proceeds across the Rainham-marshes;
comprises Dagenham; skirts Romford; includes
Henhaul^forest and the greater portion of Eppingw
forest; touches Waltham-abbey and Cheshunt;
comprehends Enfield and Chipping-Bamet; runs
through Elstre and Stanmore ; comprehends Har-
row-on-the-Hill, Norwood, and Hounslow; em-
braces Twickenham and Teddington; seems to
divide somewhat equally the domains of Bushey-
park and of Hampton-court Palace ; then, crossing
the river about midway between Thames Ditton
and Kingston, the boundary line passes between
Cheam and Ewell, and completes the circuit

Over this large district, then, the jurisdiction
of the Metropolitan Commissionen of Sewers is
said to extend, and one of the outlets of the
London sewers has already been spoken of as being
situate at Hampton. The district yielding the
amount of sewage which is assumed as being the
gross wet house-refuse of the metropolis is, as we
have seen, taken at 58 square miles, and is com-
prised within a circle of about 4| miles radius; this
reaches only to Brixton, Dulwich, Greenwich,
East India Docks, Lay ton, Highgate, Hampstead,
Bayswater, Kensington, Brompton, and Battersea.
The actual jurisdiction of the Commissioners is,
then, nearly ei^ht times larger than the portion to
which the estmiated amount of the sewage of
the metropolis refers.

The metropolitan district is still distinffuished
by the old divisions of the Tower Hamlets,
Poplar and BUckwall, Holbom and Finsbnry,
Westminster, &c ; but many of these divisions are
now incorporated into one district ; of which there
would appear to be but four at present ; or five,
inclusive of the City.

These are as follows : —

1. Fulham and Hammersmith, Counter's Creek
and Banelagh districts.

2. Westminster (Eastern and Western), Ba-
gent-street, and Holbom.

8. Finsbury, Tower Hamlets, Poplar, and
BUckwall.

4. Districts south of the Thames, Bastem and
Western.

5. City.

The practical part or working of the Commis-

418

LOXUOX LABOrit J.VD THE LOXDOX POOR.

810X1 of Sewers is much leu complicated at preient
than it wnA in the timei of t!ie independent
district! and independent coromisiiont.

The onieri for all work to be done emanate
from the court in Qrcck-itreet, but the aeveral
furvevors, &c. (whose salarief, numhen, &c., are
gi\'en below), can and do order on their responsi-
bility any repfiir of a ti inporary chamcUT which is
evidently prossinp, and report it at the next court
day. The Court meets weekly and monthly, and
what may be styled the heavier portion of the busi-
ness, as regards expenditure on great works, is more
usually transacted at the monthly meetings, when
the attendance is pennrally fuller; but the Court
can, and sometimes docs, meet much more fre-
quently, and sometimes has adjourned from day
to day.

Any private individual or any public body
may m:ike a communicition or Bu::ge8tion to the
Court of Sewers, which, if it be in accordance
with their functions, is taken into consideration
at the next occniing court day, or as soon after as
convenient. The Court in these cases either
cuuies to a decision of adoption or rejection of any
proposition, or refers it to one of their engineers
or surveyors f<»r a report, or to a committee of the
CommisftionerR, appointed by the Court; if the
proposition be professional, as to defects, or alleged
and recommended improvements in the local
•ewers, &c., it is referred to a professional gentle-
man for his opinion ; if it be more genpnil, as to
the extejtion of sewerage to some new under-
taking or mediuited undertaking in the way of
building new markets, streets, or any places, large
a£(l public ; or in applications for the use and
appropriation by enterprisini; men of sewage
manure, it is referre<l to a cuuunittee.

i}i\ receiving Fiich n>ports the Court makes an
order according to its discretion. If the work to
be done be extciisiv*', it is entrust, d to the chief
engineer, and perhaps to a principal surveyor
acting in acc(»rdance with him ; if tlic work Le
more local, it is consigned to a surveyor. One or
other of these oHicers provides, or canscj to be
prepared, a plan and a description of the work
to be done, and instructs the clerk of tiie
works to procure ( "timatcs of the cost at which
E contnictor will undertake to execute this
work, or, as it is ofiin called by the labouring
class, to "complete the Jol'* (a word at one
time singularly applicable). The estimates
are sent by the competing builders, architects,
general speculators, or by any one wishing to
contract, to the court house (without the inter-
vention of any per.on, ottlcially or otherwise)
and they are submitted to the Poard by their
clerk. The lowest contract, as the sum total of
the w ork, is most generally adopted, and when a
contract has been accepted, the matter seems
•etlled and done with, as regards the roana;re-
ment of the Commissioners ; for the contnictor at
once becomes responsible for the fulfilment of his
contract, and may and does employ whom he
pleases aud at what rates he j'^easa, without fear
of any control or interference from the Court.
The work, however, is superintended by the sur-

Te3ron, to entnre its exMntion aeeocding to th«
pmvif ions of the ogracnent. Tha coatractot if
paid by direct order of the Govt.

The surveyors and clerks of works an mostly
limited as to their laboora to tho sevml
districts ; bat the svperior offiesfs are eoiplojrd
in all parts, and so, if necessary, are the saburdi-
nate officers when the work le^virea an eztia
Btait

According to the Setums, th« fblUwing lone-
tionaries appear to be connected with the under*
mentioned districts : —

Fulham, Hmmmtrsmltlk,
0>ttnler's Crtck, <md Ha^

I Surveyor.

9 CMerks of the Work«.

1 In»pcctur uf Flushing.

Eattrm and WeHem D<-
riMtmta tf tVmlmituitr and
Rtfimt-strfet.

1 surveyor, who hai also
the Holbom divUion to
attend to.

acitrkdof the Works.

0 Flap and >luice keepers.

1 Clerk of the Works.
1 Inspector of Flnshiac.

I roMMT itamlMs, mitd Fom-

, lar and BtarkwrnU.

' 1 Surreyor , who has alio
the Kinkbury diTkaion !■•
eluded in hU district.

I 2 Clerka of the Works.

I i Inspectors of Fliukiqf.

I

•1 Clerks of the Works.
I I lusiHvtor (jf Flushing.

Sat4/A t^fthe '.

1 Survey<ir.
3 CIvrka of the Worka.

2 Insptxtors of Fludiinfi.

Kiutem riUrictB.

1 Sur>-eyor.

2 Clerks of the Works.
t Inapectonof Fliwioi*.

What may be called the working staff of the
Metropolitan Commissioners consists of the follow-
ing functionaries, receiving the following salaries: —

Chairman, with a
yearly Miliary of 1,C*00

Secret ftry. with a

yearly salaty of

(U&idt sail allow-

aiue of .I'loo, in

lieu of fl|)art-

ment*') fif'O

Clerk of ininiitcs 3jU
Twoflfrknof do.,

leach wiih a ta-

lar> of ll.V») .
One do., with a

KiUry of 120

One do. do. lOo
(me do. do. *Xt

Oi.c do. do. Ml

«. I

300 0

Aceoiintant do. 350 0
Acrouiitant'f clerk

do 150 0

Do do. 00 0
Clerk of Rurvey-

on* and eontrac-

tork* accounts .. 200 0

Do. do. l'.?5 0

Do. do. 110 0

Cletk of rales aV) 0

Another do IHO 0

Do. do no 0

Do. do W) 0

Engineer 1,000 0

For travelling ex-

IH'nwrs 200 0

Surveyor for Ful-

h.iin and I Iain-

m» rsmith, Coun-
ter's Creek, and

H.inela^h dis-

tricti 350 0

Clerk of works

(Hammersmith) 150 0

Do. (Countct't

Creek>

Do. (RanelaHh) ..

. lnft)H>ctur of
lIu^ltiaK

[ Surveyf»r of east-
em and western

I divivionsof Wei^t-
min%tcr, and of
R<-i;ent-«t. and

I Holbom divi-

sions

Two clerks of
works (eastern
and western .-uul
Hegent - Ktrect).
with a salary of

i:3W) each

Two do. iHol-
b«irn), with a

"i««y of iTiao

each

Ins|>eclor of
flushing

Surveyor of Fins-
bury, Tower
Hamlets, and
Poplar and
Blackwall

Clerk of works
(Finsbury)

Inspector of
flu»hinff

Two clerks of
work< (Tower
Hamlets, and
Poplar and
niaekwaU), with
a salary of £150
eaeh

Two inspectors
of flushings

with a salary of
£ai>each ..:...

One marah bailiff

15ft 9
15U 0

30D 0 I

300 0

00 It

3U0 0
150 6
» 0

65 9

LONWIf LABOUR AiTD TffE LOiTDON FOQJU

Surveyor of the

WMteni dirtiloio

•oath of tho

Thames SCO 0

Dow, eastern do. 860 0
Ckrk of works

leastem portion) 1(M 0
Two inspectors of

fltishfaif, £m

Onewallreeve ..
Clerk of works
J^western portion)
DO. do.
Two inspectors of
flushing, with a
salary of i:80
each

Two engineer's
clerks, with a
salary of £150
each

One do.

One do.

One do.

One by-law derk
Twenty-two flap

atod • '

keepen

100
8S

164 0
IM 0

100 0

900 0

ISO 0

100 0

80 0

150 0

ass 18

8unreyor(of the

surveyiAff tmd

drawing staff).. 860 0
Drawing derk .. 150 0
Two do., with a

salary of £190

figch .•• 800 0

Ftre do., with a

salary of £1QB

iaah 585 0

Onedoi 50 0

Six surveyors,

with a salary of

£lOOeach 000 0

Six diainmeavlOs.

awaekaaab.... 860 0

OflSce-keejper and

crier (general

service) 180 0

BaUiff.&c. 100 0

Stran^roon keaiK

er 80 0

Ona messenger . . 70 0
Two do.,£40 each 80 0
Three emnd^

boys, £38 each.. 86 0
Housekeeper.... 150 0

Yeariy total £13,874 0

This if called a "reduced" staff, and the re-
duction of salaries is certainly yery oonsiderable.

If we consider the yearly emoluments of
tndesmen in bosinesies requiring no great extent
of education or genoal intelligence, the salaries
of the snrreyors, derk of the works, &&, must
appear very fiir from extravagant; and when we
consider their responsibility and what may be
called their removability, some of the salaries
may be pronounced mean; for I think it must
be generally admitted by all, except the narrow-
minded, who look merely at the immediate
outlay as the be-all and the end-all of every
expenditure, that if the surveyors, clerks of
works, inspectors of flushing, &a, be the best
men who oould be procured (as they ought to
be), or at any rate be thorough masters of their
craft, they are rather underpaid than overpaid.

The above statement may be analysed in tbe
following manner: —

£

9,

£

Chairman

1,000

Secretary and 7 derkf . 1860

0

Accountant and 5 clerks . 1015

0

Clerk of atea and S

derki .... 680

0

sxnK

Engineer and 5 elerka . 1880 0

7 surveyon, of survey*
ing and drawing staffs with
6 chainmen and 9 dnwing
clerks .... 2125 0

5 dittrid nnreyon . 1500 0

12 derka of works . 2278 0

9 inspectors of flushing 720 0

22 flap and doice
keepers . . . 892 12

Bailiff, mnrsh^bailliil^ and
wallreeTe • . . 187 8

9,538

£ J.

Office keeper, itrong-rooia
keeper, and houaekeeper . 850 0

8 messengers and 8 er-
rand-boys . . . 246 0

419

fi9e

£14,684
The cost of rent, taxes* stationery, and office
incidentals, is now 44 40^, which makes the
total yearly outlay amount to upwards of 19,000/.
The annual cost of the staff in the secretary's de-
partment is said to have been reduced from
8962/. 4j. to 8605/. ; ia the engineer!' depart
ment from 16,437/. 3s. to 8978/. 16«. In the
general service there has been an increase from
606/. 16i. to 696/.

A deputation who waited lately upon Lord John
Rnssell is said to have dedared the expenses of
the Commissioners* office to be at the rate of
from 25 to 30 per cent, on the amount of
rate coUected. The sum collected in the year

1850 averaged 89,341/. The cost of manage-
ment in that year was 28,465/. ; this, it will be
seen, is 26 per cent of the gross income.

The annual statement of the receipta and ex-
penditure under the Commission for the year

1851 has just been published, but not oJuMl^;
from this it appears that in February, 1851 —

The balance of cash in hand £ t . <2.

was 6,750 9 11

The totd receipts during the
year have amounted to . . 129,000 0 9

Making together . . . 184,750 10 8

The expenditure, as retnmed under the general
head, is —

For work ....

(This item includes the cost
of supervision and compensation
for damages.)

The cost of snrveyi hat been

Management ...

Loans ....

Contingendes •

£95,589 19 8

6,332 19
16,480 9
10,442 10

2,749 1

Total paymenU . . . 181,494 19 6

Balance in hand . . £8,855 11 8

As an instance of the mismanagement of ihh

sewers work of the metropolis, it is but right that

the subjoined document should be publishdi.

I need not offer any comment on the folloirittg
'' Return to an Address of the Honourable tbe
House of Commons, dated 28th July, 1851,"
except that I was told eariy in January, on good
authority, that the matter was now worse than it
was when reported as follows : —

"Jhrivjf Gardetu, WkiUkaU Yard, SeoOand
Yard, dx.. Public Sever,
«With refarence to tbe two orders of the
Commisnoneft of Her Majest/s Woods, &e., I
have the honoor ta state thai, since the 15th of No-
vember (when I last sent in a memorandum), I hmft
frequently visited the several Crown bwldingt af>
fected by the bnildiBg of the main paUio seww

420

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

for draining "Westminster ; vi«., the Barl of Malmi-
bury'i, the Exchequer Bill Office, the United
Service Museum, Lord LiTerpool's, Mr. Vertues,
Mr. Alderman Thompson's, and Messrs. Dal-
gleiflh's.

" All these buildings have been more or less
damaged by the construction of the sewer ; the
Exchequer Bill Office, the United Service Mu-
seum, and Mr. Vertue's, in a manner that, in my
opinion, can never be effectually repaired.

" At Lord Malmabury's, the party wall next
to the Exchequer Bill Office has moved, as shown
by some cracks in the staircase ; but for this house
it may not be necessary to require more to be
done than stopping and painting.

" At the Exchequer Bill Office, the old Gothic
groins have been cracked in several places, and
several settlements have taken place in the walls
over and near to where the sewer passes under
the building. The shores are atill standing
against this building, but it would now be better
to remove them; the cmcks in the groins and
walls can never be repaired to render the build-
ing so substantial as it was before. The cracks
in the basement still from month to month show
a very slight movement; those in the staircase
and roof also appear to increase. As respects
this building, I would submit to the Commissioners
of Woods that it icould not be advisable to per-
mit the surveyors of the Commissioners of Setters
to enter and mate only a surface repair of plaster
and paint ; but I would suggest that a careful
survey be made by surveyors appointed respectively
by the Board of Woods and the Commissioners
of Sewers, and that a thorough repair of the
building be made (so £fir as it is susceptible of
repair), under the Board of Woods ; the Com-
niisaioners of Sewers payinj? such proportion of
the cost thereof as may fairly bo deemed to have
been occasioned by their proceedings.

" At the United Strvice Museum, the settle-
ments on the side next the sewer appear to mc
very serious.

" The house occupied by Lord Liverpool, as
also Mr. Vertue's house, of which his Lordship is
Crown lessee, were both affected, the former to
some extent, but not seriously ; of the latter, the
west front sunk, and pulled over the whole house
with it; but as respects these two houses the
interference of the Board is, I believe, unnecessary,
Mr. Ilardwickc (one of the Sewer Commissioners)
having, as architect for Lord Liverpool, caused
both to be repaired.

" A like repair has also been made in the
kitchen offices of Mr. Alderman Thompson's
house, where alone any cracks appeared.

"At Messrs. Dalgleishand Taylor's, very serious
injury has been done to both their buildings and
their trade. The Commissioners of Sewers have
a steam-engine still at work on those premises,
and have not yet concluded their operations there.
Some of the sheds which entirely fell down they
have rebuilt; and others, which appear in a very
defective if not dangerous state, it is understood
they propose to repair or rebuild ; but as eventually
Messrs. Dalgleish and Taylor will have a very

heavy chiim against them for interference with
business, and as the extent of dainsige to the
buildings which has been done, or may hereafter
arise, cannot at present be fnlly aacertained, it
would probably be advisable to poatpone this
part of the subject, giving notice, however, to
the Commissioners of Sewen that it must here-
after cone under consideratioiL

(Signed) "Jaiies FBavBTHOBarc.
" 10th May, 1851."

"Sewer, }Vk%tekaU Yard, dx,

" Under the order of the Commiasioners of Her
Majesty's Woods, &c., of yesterday's date, en-
dorsed on a letter from Mr. Tonna, 1 have in-
spected the United Service Institution in While-
hall Yard, and find most of the cracks have
moved.

" The movement, though slight, and not ahowing
immediate danger, is more thiui I had anticipated
would occur within so short a period when I re-
ported on the 10th instant. It tends to confinn
the opinion therein given, and shows the necessity
for immediate precaution, and for a thorough
repair.

(Signed) ''James Fekhzthobsi.

" 16th May, 1851.

{Commissioners of Her
Majesty's Woods, Fo-
resU, Land Revenoes,
Works, and Buildings^
"Office of Woods, &c.
" 6th August, 1851."

OV THB SSWXBS RaTB.

HAYnra shown the expenditure of the Cooh
mission of Sewers, we now come to consider its
income.

The funds available for the sewerage and drains^
of the several towns throughout the kingdom, are
raised by means of a particular property tax,
termed the Sewers Hate. This forms part of
what are designated the Local Taxes of England
and Wales.

Local taxes are of two classes : —

I. Kates raised upon property in defined dis-
tricts, as parishes, jurisdictions, counties, &c.

II. Tolls, dues, and fees charged for particular
services on particular occasions, as turnpike tolls,
harbour dues, &c., 8cc.

The rates or sums raised upon the property
lying within a certain circumscribed locality, admit
of being subdivided into two orders —

1. The rates of independent districts, or those
which, being required for a particular district (as
the parish or some equivalent territorial limit),
are not only levied within the bounds of that
district, but expended for the purposes of it
alone ; as is the case with the poor rate.

2. The rates of aggregate districts, or those
which, though required to be expended for the
purposes of a given district (such as the county),
are raised in detail in the several inferior districts
(such as the various parishes) which compose the
larger one, and which contribute the sums thus
levied to one common fund'; such is the case with
the county rate.

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

421

But tbe rates of iodependent diftricts may be
farther distinguiahed into two orders, fix. —

i. Those which are levied on the same
classes of persons, the same kinds of property, and
the same principles of yaloation as tne poor rate;
such are the highway rate, the lighting and
watching, and the militia rate among the inde-
pendent rates; and the police, borough, and
county rates among the aggregate rates.

ii. Those which are not leTied on the same
basis as the poor rate. The church and sewers
rates are fiEuniliar instances of this peculiarity.

The sewers rate, then, is a local tax requiied for
an indepciidtnt rather than an aggregoie district,
and is not levied upon the basis of the poor law.

The assessment of the poor rate, for instance^
includes tithes of every kind, that of the sewers
rate extends to such tithes only as are in the
hands of laymen. Again, the sewers rate em-
braces some incorporeal hereditaments to which
the poor rate does not extend ; but stock in trade,
which of late years has been specially exempted from
the poor rate, was never subject to the sewers rate.

A sewers rate, however, was known as early
as the sixth year of Henry YI. (1427), though
"commissions" were not instituted till the time
of Henry YIIL The Act which now regulates
the collection of the funds required for the cleans-
ing, building, repairs, and improvements of the
sewers, is 4 and 5 Vict (1841). This statute
gives the "Courts" or "Commissions" of Sewers,
power '* to tax in the gross'* in each parish, &c.,
all lands, &c., within the jurisdiction of such
courts, for the requirements of the public sewerage.
This impost is not periodically levied, nor at any
stated or even regularly recurring term, but " as
occasion requires :" perhaps once in two or three
years. It is (with some exceptions, which require
no notice) what is commonly called " a landlord's
tax" in the metropolis, that is, the sewers-rate
collector must be paid by the occupier of the pre-
mises, who, on the production of the collector's
receipt, can deduct the amount from his rent. If
this arrangement were meant to convey a notion
to the public that the sewers tax was a tax. on
property — on the capitalist who owns, and not on
the tenant who merely occupies — ^it is a shallow
device, for every one must know that the more
aewers rate a tenant pays for his landlord, the
more rent he must pay to him.

The sewers rate is levied according to the rate-
able value put upon property by the surveyors and
assessors appointed by the Commissioners, who
nay make the rate "by such ways and means,
and in such manner and form, as to them may
seem most convenient." It seems a question yet
to be determined whether or not there is a right
of appeal against the sewers rate, but the general
opinion is that there is %o appwL The rate can
1m mortgaged by the Commissioners if an advance
of money is considered desirable. The maximum
of If. in the pound on the net annual value of the
property was fixed by the Act The Commissioners
have also the power to levy a " special rate" on
any district not connected with the general system
of sewerage, but which it hM been reiolved uoold

be so connected ; also an "improvemtnt rtte.** at
a maximum of 10 per cent on the rack rent, " in
respect of works they may judge to be of private
benefit," a provision which has called forth some
comments.

The metropolitan sewers rate is now collected in
nine districts.

There are at present 42 Commissions or Courts
of Sewers throughout England and Wales.

The only return which has yet been prepared
of the annual amount assessed and collected under
the authority of the Metropolitan Commission of
Sewers, is one presented to the House of Commons
in 1843. It includes the sum assessed in four of
the eight districts within the jurisdiction of the
Metropolitan Commissioners from 1831 to 1840
inclusive.

Total in the

Annual

Diftricts.

10 yean.

Average.

£

£

Westminster .

286,397

23,639t'„

Holbom and Finsbury

123,317

12,331^5,

Tower Hamlets .

82,468

8,246ft

From East Moulsey,

in Surrey, to Ravens-

bourne, in Kent

175,187

17,518ft

616,819

61,631^

The following amounts were returned to Parlia-
ment as that expended in two other of the metro-
politan districts in the year 1833 '.-^

In the City • . . • £17,71
Poplar district , . • • 2,74(

£20,465A

Annual average of the four above-
mentioned districts

61,631^5,

Yearly total £82,097
The two districts excluded from the above total
are the minor ones of St Katherine and Green-
wich, so that altogether the gross sum levied
within the jurisdiction of the Metropolitan Com-
missioners must have been between 85,000/. and
90,000/.

The annual amount of the local rate* in Eng-
land and Wales is, according to a work on the
subject (" The Local Taxes of the United King-
dom"), published "under the direction of the
Poor Law Commissioners" in 1846, 8,801,838/.*
In this krge simi only the average annual outlay
on the six districts of the sewers of the metropolis
is included (82,097/.), and it is stated that not
even an approximate average could be arrived at as
regards the expenditure on sewers in the country
districu. Such absence of sUtistical knowledge,
— and it is a want continually observable — is little
crediuble to the legislative, executive, and admi-
nistrative powers of the State.

I shall now proceed to show, firom the best data
at my command, the present outlay on the metro-
politan sewen.

• The following iCatemeiit may, aecording to the
work above alluded to, be presented as an appnnfanate

422

LONDON LABOUR AND TEE LONDON POOR.

According to tho yumfrkw, the ConmuitioDen
an leqnired to sabmit to Parliament yearly retumt
of the money collected on account of, and expended
in, the lewerage of the metropolii.

I need only state, that in the latest and, indeed,
the sole returns upon the subject, the rates in 1845-
6-7, under Ae former separate commissions, were
Id, and 2d, in the pound on land, and from Zd.
(Sanelagh and Westminster) to li. I0<{. (Green-
wich) on houses.

The rates made imd«t]M«OBlSiMd and eonioli-
dated CommissioiiB, from 80th Nor., 1847, to 8th
Oct., 1849, were all 6d., exoeptiag the Weateni
division of Wettminiter sewers^ which wex« Zd^
and a part of the Sumy and Kent district, 8d.

The rates under the present Metropolitan Goan-
mission, from 8th October, 1849, to 81st July,
1851, are all M,, with a aimiUr exception in
Surrey and Kent The following are the only fax-
ther returns bearing immediately on tlie aubject:^ —

BBTUKK OF THB PBBCBNTAGB ON THB TOTAL RATEABLB ANNUAL YALUB
OF THB PR0FBBT7 AS8B8SED, to which the Bates collected under the separate Cos-
msnoHS, between January, 1845, and NoTember, 1847, amounted; SnaLAa SarvBV aa to the
Mnbined and eonsolidated GoMMXssxom, from November, 1847, to October, 1849 ; smd aa to the
present CoMHunov, from October, 1849, to July 81, 1851.

Total Rateeble
Annual Value of the

DUtrlcU on
November 30. 1847*

and

October 8. 1840, and

July 31. 1851.

reipcctively.

Average Amount

CQllectMi

for One Year.

Amount of the Percentage of

the Rates eoUeeted
on the Rateable Annual Yalee.

Under the old separate Com-
missions of Sewers, between
January, 1845, and NoTomber
80,1847

Under the combined and con-
solidated Commissions, from No-
Tember 30, 1847, to October 8,
1849 (including first Metropolitan
Commission) . • • .

Under the present Metropolitan 1
Commitsion of Sewers, from Octo- \
her 8, 1849, to July 21, 1851 J

£ f.

6,688,896 0

7,128,111 0 0

8,185,090» 0
8,820,325t 0

:}

£ ; d.

81,788 11 0

67,707 16 8

89,841 16 0

£ 9. d.

ri 4 5 or 2|d. -72 in the
\ pound per amiam.

ro 18 lU ar 2id: -11 in
< the pound p«

t anniuBL

(1 1 llor2H. •52inAi
pound perannnk
1 0 8 or 2iA -72 in the
ponnd per annum.

* Rental of the districts now rated.

t Rental of the diitricts within the active juriadiction in whieh expenses have been incurred, and which are
about to be rated.

THOMAS CGGQIN,
Clerh iif RaUi and ColUctiont,

The amount of the taxation in the shape of toDs,
dues, and fees is as follows :—

AuGUtiT, 1851.

return of the meKcnt annual amount of the local rate* In
E^Uflland and Wales.

I. RATES.
A. Ratks of Iwdkpkxdbnt Districts.
1. On the hann of the jooor rate.
The pour rate, including the purposes

of—
The %orkhouw building rate . \ ,

The survey and valuation rate . j i

Ui'ltcf of thepoor £A,^r,,co:i\

Other objects WJt^Tj

Contributions to county and borough |

rates (sec below). ;

Jail fees rate % .

Constables rate . . . . / "i^Knowu

Highway rates 1.. 112,812 I

Lighting and watching rate . . . unknown
Militia rate not needed

II. TOLLS, DUES, AND FEES,

Turnpike tolls
Borough tolh and dues
City of London

Light dues

Port dues

('hurch dues and fcts

Marriage fees .

Registration fees

Justiciary fees—

Clerks of the Peace .

Justices' clerks .

i:i72,9ii

. 8113,100

i.n 348.085

\

)

378,011
257.776
534,tM5

unknown

£ll.ftS7
A7.tiG8

2. \tit on the boiit ef the pocr rate.

Church rates .

Sewers rate—

f fcncral sow pts tax —
In thi> nulropolis
in the test of the country

Drainage and inclosure rates

lncl<»sure rate .

Regulated pasture rate .

B. IlATKh CK AUURKOATK DISTRICTS.

County rates . f Contrilnited
Ilundre<t rate .i from the
tioro\igh rates . (. poor rate.

Total rates of England and Wales

not needed | Total tolls, dues,
I England and Wales

;■}■

and fees of

. . . ;C2.en7.241

The subjoined, then adds the same work, founded on

the precedmg details, may be regarded as exhibiting an

fl2,0&7 "Pproximate estimate of the present amount of th^ Ktcal

unknown *ax<?* »" England and Wales, beinf^, hotvcver, obdoutta

hdow the actual total.

Rates dC8,80l,R38

Tolls, dues, and fees . 2,6U7.24I

£n,*mjfn9

** The annual amount of the local taxation of Enffland

and Wales may at the present time be sutcd. in iviuod

numbers, at not less than £l2,OiiO.(N)0 ;" or we mar say

• that the local taxation of the country is one-fourth rf

£8,801 ,834 I the amount of the general taxation. ""«^'o««n «

l,aS6.457

LONDON LABOUR AND THB LONDON POOM.

4S3

EETUBN OF THE COST OF MANAGEMENT PER ANNUM ON THE TOTAL EATE-
ABLB ANNUAL VALUE OF TOE DISTRICTS.

YEARS.

Total

Rateable Annual

Value of the

District*.

Rate per Cent.
Coet of Management per Annum of Coat of
per Annum. i Man ajin tent oa tfa>
! Rateable Annual
Value of the DlatrlcCi.

1845
1846
1847
1848
1849
1850

6,820,881
6,428.909
6,683,896
6,7^,111
8,077,591
8,791,967

J. d.

£ t. d.

18,591 4 8

18,097 6 1

24,871 16 9
20,008 7 10

20,005 7 6

23,465 18 7

g. d.
S 10|

5 71
7 8|

5 10}
4 Hi

6 4

Avaun 7, 1851.
Ov TBI Ouumrnra or the SiwBBfl —

YlKTILATIOV.

Thibi are two modes of purifying the eewers ;
the one coniiiti in remoTing the foul air, the other
in remoTing the lolid depoaiti. I shall deal first
with that mode of purification which consists in
the mechanical removal or chemical decomposition
of the noxioiu gases engendered within the sewers.

This is what is termed the Ventilation of the
Sewers, and forms a very important branch of the
inquiry into the character and working of the
undergromid refuse-channels, for it relates to the
risk of explosions and the consequent risk of de-
struction to men's lives ; while, if the sewer be ill-
ventilated, the surrounding atmosphere is often
prejudicially affected by tlM escape of impure air
from the subterranean channels.

A survey as to the ventilation, &c, of the
sewers was made by Mr. Hawkins, Assistant-Sur-
veyor, and Mr. Jenkins, Clerk of the Works. Four
examinations took place of sewers; of those in
Bloomsbury ; those from Tottenham-court-road to
Norfolk-street, Strand; from the Quard-room in
Buckingham Palace to the Horseferry-road, Mill-
bank; and in Qrosvenor-square and the streets
adjacent. There were difficulties attending the
experiment. From Castle-street to Museum-street
there was a drop of 4 feet in the levels, so that
the examiners had to advance on their hands and
knees, and it was difficult to make observations.
In some places in Westminster also the water and
silt were knee deep,and the lamps (three were used)
•plashed all over. In Bloomsbury the sewers
gave no token of the presence of any gas, but in
the other places its presence was very perceptible,
especially in a sewer on the west side of Grosvenor-
square, a very low one, in which the gas was
ignited within the wire shade of one of the lamps,
but without producing any effect beyond that of
immediately extinguishing the light. There was
also during the route, in the neighbourhood of Sir
Henry Meux's brewery and of an adjoining distil-
lery in Vine-street» a considerable quantity of
iteam in iht sewer, but it had no material effect
upon the light.

The examiners came to the conclusion that

a. B. HATTON,

AccoutUanL

where there vras any liability to an explosion from
the presence of carburetted hydrogen, or other
causes, the Improved Davy Lamp i^orded an
almost certain protection.

The attention of the Commissioners seems to
have been chia^ given of late, as regards ventila-
tion and indeed general improvement, to the
sewers on the Surrey side of the metropolisL
Among these a new sewer along Friar-street, run-
ning from the Blackfriars to the Southwark-bridge-
road, is one of the most noticeable.

Friar-street is one of the smaller off thorough-
fitfes^ the character of which is, perhaps, little
suspected by those who pass along the open Black-
fmrs-road. As you turn out of that road to itm
left hand, advancing from the bridge, almost oppo-
site the Magdalen Hospital, is Friar-street. On
its left hand, as you proceed along it, are gas-worki^
and the factories, or work places, of tradesmen in
tha soap-boiling, tallow-melting, cat and other gut
manufacturing, bone-boiling, and other noisome
callings. On the right hand are a series of short
and often neatly-built streets, but the majority of
them have the look of unmistakable squalor or
poverty, though not of the poverty of the indiH-
trious. Across Flint-street, (Ireen-street, and other
ways, few of them horse thoroughfares, hang, on a
fair day, lines of washed clothes to dry. Yellow-
looking chemises and petticoats are affixed along-
side men's trowsers and waistcoats ; coarse-featund
and brazen-looking women, with necks and faces
I reddened, as if with brick-dust, from exposure to
the weather, stand at their d^rs and beckon to
the passers by. Perhaps in no part of the metro-
I polis is there a more marked manifestation of moral
obsceneness on the one hand, and physical obscene-
I ness on the other. With the low prostitution of
I this locality is mixed the low and the bold crime
I of the metropolis. Some of the off-shoots from
, Friar-street communicate with places of as nefa-
rious a character. Hackett, whom his newspaper
admirers seem to wish to elevate into the fame of
a second Jack Sheppard, resided in this quarter.
The gang who were last winter repulsed in their
burglarious attack on Mr. Holford's villa in the
Kegcnt's-park fiivoured the same locality, and were
arrested in their old haunts. Public-houses may

i2i

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDOX POOR.

be lecn here and there — hoasef, perhapi, not greatly
discouraged by the police — which arc at once the
rendezvous and the trap of olTundert, for to and
from such resorts they can be n*adily traced. And
all over this place of moral degradation extends
the stench of offensive manufactures and ill-venti-
lated sewers. CerUinly there is now an improve-
ment, but it is still bad enough.

A Ileport of the 21st September, 184S, shows
that a new sewer, 150u feet in length, had bei-n
* put in along Friar-street, with a fall of 15 inches
from the level of the sewer in I31ackfriars-road to
Snffolk-street. The sewer," states the K«'port,
" with which it communicates at iu upper end in
the Blackfriars road contains nearly 2 feet in
depth of soil ; it in consequence has silted up to
that level with semi-fluid black fllth, principally
from the factories, of the most poisonous and
sickening description, forming an don/jatcd C(SJtpvvl
1500 feet in length, the filth at its lower end being
upwards of 3 feet in depth. Si^incc the building
of this sewer, the foul matter so discharged into it
has been in a state of decomposition, constantly
giving off pestilential and poisonous gases, which
have spread into and filled the adjoining sewers ;
thence they are being drawn into the houses by
the house-drains, and into the streets by the
street-drains, to such a fearful extent as to infect
the whole atmosphere of the neighbourhood, and
BO to cause the very offensive odour so gener.illy
complained of there. Sulphuretted hydrogen id
present in these sewers in largo quantities, as
metals, silver and coppc>r, are attacked and black-
ened by it ; and the smell from it is so sickening
Of to be almost unbearable."

On the question of how best to deal with sewers
inch ns the Friar-street, Messrs. John Koe and
John riiillips (^urvcynr?) and Mr. Henry Austin
(consulting engineer; have agreed in the following
opinion : —

" The most simple and convenient method would
be by placing large strong tires in shafts directly
over the crown of the sewers. The expense of
each furnace, with the inclosure around it, will be
about 20/. The fires would be fed almost con-
stantly, by which little smoke would be generated.
The heat to be produced from these fires would
rarefy the air so much ns to create rapidly ascend-
ing currents in the shafts, and strong draughts
through the sewers, the foul nir in which would
then be drawn to the fires and there consumed ;
and .IS it was being destroyed fiesh air would be
drawn in at all the existing inlets of house and
street drains, pushing forward and supplying the
place of the foul air."

Concerning the explosions of, or deaths in, the
lowers from the impure gases, there is, I believe,
no statistical account. The most remarkable
catastrophe of this kind was the death of five
persons in a sewer in Pimlico, in October, 1849;
of these, three were regular sewor-men, and the
others were a policeman and Mr. Wells, a surgeon,
who went into the sewer in the hopes of giving
assistance. Air. Phillips, the then chief surveyor
of the Commission of Sewers, stated that the cause
of these deaths in the sewers was entirely an

exceptional case, and the gas which had caused
the accident inquired into was not a sewer gas.
" There is often/' he said, " a greftt escape of gas
from the mains, which found its way into the sew-
ers. The gas, however, which has done the mischief
in the present instance would not explode.'*

Dr. Ure's opinion was, that the deceased men

died from asphixia, caused by inhaling sulphuretted

liydrogen and carbonic acid gas iu mixture vit!i

prussic vapour, and that these noxious emanatioos

were derived from the refuse lime of gas-works

thrown in with other rubbish to make up the road

above the sewer. Other scientific gentlemen atiri-

Ir.iied the five deaths to the action of sulphuretted

hydrogen gas, or, according to Dr. Lyon Play£iir,

to be chemically correct, hydro-sulphate of aouno-

ni.i. The coroner (Mr. Bedford), in lumming op,

laid that Mr. Phillips wished it to be sappoeed

that gas lime was the cause of the foul gaa ; and

Dr. I're said that gas lime had to do with tka

calami ly. But Dr. Miller, Mr. Richard Phillips,

Mr. Campbell, and Dr. Play fair, more especially

the latter, were perfectly sure that lime had no-

' thing to do with it. The verdict was the following:

' —*' We find that Daniel Pert, Thomas Gee, aiid

j John Attwood died from the inhalation of noxious

uas generated in a neglected and UDTentilaied

i sewer in Kenil worth-street. And we find that

I llenr}' Wells and John Walsh met their deaths

I from the same cause, in their laudable endeaToan

- to feave the lives of the first three sufleren. The jnxy

I unanimously consider the commissioneri and officers

I of the Metropolitan Sewers are much to blame for

, having neglected to arail themselves of the nnnsnal

advantages offered, from the local situation of tbs

i Grosveni)r-C!inal, for the purpose of flushing tkc

tfcwers in this district."

Of ''Flusuisg" and "Plongisg," A3eD oihei
I MuDEs OF Wasuiku tue Sewe&f.

j TuE next step iu our inquiry — ^and that which
I at present concerns us more than any other — is
the mode of removing the solid deposits from the
sewers, as well as the condition of the workmen
connected with that particular brnuch of labour.
Tlic sewers are the means by which a lai^r pro- I
portion of the wet refuse of the metropolis is re- j
moved from our houses, and we have n«>w to con-
■ sicjer the means by which the more solid part of I
tills refuse is removed from the sewer^i themselves.
Tlie latter operation is quite as essential to health
I and cleanliness as the fonner ; for to allow the
j tilth to collect in the channels which are intended ',
I to remove it, and there to remain decomposing
and vitiating the atmosphere of the metropolis, !
is manifestly as bad as not to remove it at all :
and since the more solid portions of the sewage ;
iriU collect and form hard deposits at the bott^^iD •
of each duct, it becomes necessary that some I
means should be devised for the periodical pu^ I
gation of the sewers themselves. i

There have been two modes of effecting this ■
object. The one has been the carling away of
the more solid refuse, and the otlier the vashin^ •
of it away, or, as it is termed, /u^Atny in the case >

w

a

a I
- I

SI

"I

I— I

o

»

w

426

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

the whole of theie lewert; after tiATtning the
arena, it deTiated a little to the south-WMt, where
it waf carried out at the lizth arcade, east of the
■outhem entrance. Man-holes and steps to de-
scend into this capacious vaulted aqueduct were
introduced in several places ; and there can be no
doubt that by directing for some hours such a
stream of water through it, the matest cleanliness
was preserved throughout all the sewers of the
building.**

The flushing of sewers appears to have been
introduced into the metropolis by Mr. John Roe
in the year 1847, but did not come into general
use till some years later. There used to be a
partial flushing of the London sewers twelve years
ago. The mode of flushing as at present practised
is as follows : —

In the first instance the inspector examines
and reports the condition of the sewer, and re-
ceives and issues his orders accordingly. When
the sewer is ordered to be flushed — and there is
no periodical or regular observance of time in the
operation — the men enter the sewers and rake up
the deposit, loosening it everywhere, so as to render
the whole easy to be swept along by the power of
the volume of water. The sewers generally are, in
their widost part, provided with grooves, or, as the
men style them, " framings.'* Into these Inunings
are fitted, or permanently attached, what I
heard described as " penstocks,** but which are
spoken of in some of the reports as ''traps,*'
"gates," or " sliuce gates.** They are made both
of wood and iron. By a series of bolts and adjust-
ments, the penstocks can be fixed ready for use
when the tide is highest in the sewer, and the
volume of u-atf'r the greatest. They then, of course,
are in the nature of dams, the water having accu-
mulated in consequence of the stoppage. The de-
posit Imving been loosened, the bolts are with-
drawn, when the gates suddenly fly back, and the
accumulated water and slirred-up sewage sweeps
along impetuously, while the men retreat into
some side recesses adapted for the purpose. The
same is done with eacii penstock until the matt«*r
ifl swept through the outlet. The men always
follow the course of this sewage-current when the
sewer is of suflicient capacity to enable them to do
so. throwing or pushing forward any more solid
matter with their shovels.

"To flush we generally go and draw a slide
up and let a flush of water down," said one man
to me, " and then we have iron rakers to loosen
the stuff. We have got another way that we do
it as well ; one man stands here, when the flush
of water 's coming down, with a large board ; then
he lets the iivater rise to the top of this board, and
then there 's two or three of us on ahead, with
shovels, loosening the stuff — then he ups with
this board and lets a good heavy flush of water
come down. Precious hard work it is, I can
assure you. I've had many a wet shirt. We
stand up to our fork in the water, right to the top
of our j:ick-boots, and sometimes over them."
" Ah, I should think you often get over the top
of yours, for you come home with your stockings
wet enough, goodness knows," exclaimed hit wife.

who was present ** When there *■ a good fluih
of water coming down," he resmned, "we're
obligated to put onr heads fitft up againit the
crown of the sewer, and bear upon our ahoveb, so
that we may not be carried away, and taken bang
into the Thames. Ton aee there *§ nothing for
us to Uy hold on. Why, there was one chap
went and lifted a slide right up, when he oogli
to have had it up only 9 or 10 inches at the
furthest, and he nearly swamped three of ni. If
we should be taken off our lege there 'i a heavy
fall — about 3 feet— just before you comet to the
mouth of the sewer, and if we was to get then,
the water is so rapid nothing could save u
When we goes to work we nails our lantenu 3p
to the crown of the sewer. When the slide ii
lifted up the rush is very great, and takes sU
before it. It roars away like a wild beiiL
Wc 're always obliged to work according to tid?,
both above and below ground. When we hare
cot no water in the sewer we shovels the dirt cp
mto a Imnk on both sides, so that when the duia
of water comes down the loosened dirt is C
carried away by it. After flushing, the bottoa
of the sewer is as clean as this floor, hot iai
couple of months the soil is a foot to 15 inda
deep, and middling hard."

" Flushing-gntes," an engineer has repertei {
" are chiefly of use in sewers badly constructed ■
and without falls, but containing plenty of water:
and they are of very little use where the gate iiai
to be shut 24 hours and longer, before a bead oi
water has accumulated; but where intermiueflt
flushing is practised, strong smells are often ciiMd
toMif by the stagnation of the water or fewsfi
while accumulating behind the gate.*'

The most general mode of flushing at pres^
adopted is not to keep in the water, &c., wucii
has flowed into the sewer from the streets and
houses, as well as the tide of the river, bu: !>
convey the flushing water from the plugs of the
water companies into the kennels, and so into ^
sewers. I find in one of the Reports ackricv-
ledgments of the liberal supplies granted for tiA-
ing by the several companies. The water of tli;
Surrey Canal has been placed, fur the same ob;ec:,
at the disposiil of the Sewer Comraisaioners.

It is impossible to "flush** at ail where a Eewe;
has a '' dead-end ; " that is, where there is a
" block,*' as in the case of the Kenilworth-ft-ert
sewer, Pimlico, in which five persons lost tbeir
lives in 1848.

There is no difference in the system of floibiof
in the Metropolitan and City jurisdictions, except
that for the greater fiu:ilities of the process, tie
City provides water-tanks in Newgate-market,
where the heads of three sewers meet, and where
the accumulation of animal garbage, and tJie
fierceness and numbers of the rats attracted
thereby, were at one time frightful ; at Lesdeo-
hall-market, and elsewhere, such tanks were alio
provided to the number of ten, the largest beinf
the Newgate-market tank, which is a brick ci^ten
of 8000 gallons capacity. Of these tanks, hov-
ever, only four are now kept filled, for thii col-
lection of water is found unneoeuaiy, the regular

I

I

I

■• i

LONDON LABOUR AND THB LONDON POOR.

427

fljitem of flashing antwering the purpose without
them ; and I understand that in a little time them
will be no tanks at all. The tank is filled, whek
required, by a water company, and the penst^ks
being opened, the water rushes into the sewers
with great force. There is also another point
peculiar to the City— in it all the sewers are
flushed regularly twice a week ; in the metro-
politan sewers, only when the inspector pro-
nounces flushing to be required. The City plan
appears the best to prerent the accumulation of
deposit

There still remains to be described the system
of "plonging" or mode of cleansing the open
sewers, as contradistinguished from *^fi%uh\ng" or
the cleansing of the covered sewers.

" When we go plonging," one man said, " we
has long poles with a piece of wood at the end of
them, and we stirs up the mud at the bottom of
the ditches while the tide's a going down. We
has got slides at the end of the ditches, and we
pulls these up and lets out the water, mud, and
all, into the Thames." " Tes, for the people to
drink," said a companion drily. " We 're in the
water a great deal," continued the man. "We
can't walk along the sides of all of 'em."

The difierence of cost between the old method
of removal and the new, that is to say, between
carting and flushing, is very extraordinary.

This cartage work was done chiefly by contract
and according to a Beport of the surveyors to the
Commissioners (Aug. 81, 1848), the usual cost
lor such work (almost always done during the
night) was 7<. the cubic yard ; that is, 7<. for the
removal of a cubic yard of sewage by manual
labour and horse and cart. In February, 1849
(the date of another fieport on the subject), the
cost of removing a cubic yard by the operation of
flushing, was but 8c{. This gives the following
result, but in what particuliur time, instance, or
locality, is not mentioned : —

79,483 cubic yards of deposit removed
by Uie contract flushing system, at 8cf.
per cubic yard £2,649

Same quantity by the old system of
catting and cartage, 7s. per cubic yard . 27,819

Difierence

. £26,170

''It appears, therefore,** says Mr. Lovick,
'' that by the adoption of the contract flushing
•ystem, a saving has been efiected within the
comparatively short period of its operation
over the filthy and clumsy system formerly
practiied, of 25,1702., showing the cost of this
ijstera to be ten and a half times greater than the
cost of flushing by contract**

An official Report states : " When the accumn-
Ifttions of years had to be removed from the
towers, the rate of cost per lineal mile has varied
from about 402. to 58/., or from 8<i. to 8<<. per
Uneal yard. The works in these cases (ex-
cepting those In the City) have not exceeded nine
lineal miles."

" On an avenum of weekt,** tayt Mr. Lovick,
in bit Seport on iuhmg opeimtioot»a few montht

after the introduction of the dbntract system, in
Sept, 184% " under present arrangements, about
62 miles at sewers are passed through each week,
and deposit pifTciittd from accumulating in them
by periodic (wvekly) flushing. The average cost
per lineal mile per week is about 22. 10<.

" The nature of the agreements With the con-
tractors or gangers are now for the prevention of
accumulations of deposit in a district For this
purpose the large districts are subdivided, each
subdivision beine let to one man. In the West-
minster district there are four, in the Holbom and
Finsbury two, in the Surrey and Kent, seven sub-
divisions.

" The Tower Hamlets and Poplar districti are
each let to one man.

"In the Tower Hamlets it will be perceived
that a reduction of 82. has been efiected for the
performance of precisely the same work as that
heretofore performed ; the rates of diarge stand-
ing thus : —

** Under the day-work system 232. per week.
„ contract „ 152. „

" In those portions specially contracted for, the
work has been let by the lineal measure of the
sewer, in preference to the amount oC deposit re-
moved.

"In the Surrey and Kent districts the open
ditches have been cleansed thrice as often at
formerly.

** A large proportion of the deposit removed is
from the open ditches ; in these the accumulations
are rapid and continuous, caused chiefly by their
beinff the receptacles for the ashes and refuse of
the houses, the refuse of mannfiictories, and the
sweepinss of the roads.

" In the covered sewers one of the chief sources
of accumulation is the detritus and mud from the
streets, swept into the sewers.

" The accumulations from these sources will not,
I think, be over-estimated at two-thirds of the
whole amount of deposit removed.

"The contracts in operation, February, 1849,
with the districts which they embrace, are at
foUowt :—

"Tabli Na I.

Districts.

^g|-

Average Rate
of Work per-
fonned in

through each
Week.

Contract
Charge

Wetdnlntter

Holbom 4k Finsburv

Surrey and Kent ..
PonUr

Uneal Feet
98,000

Lineal FCet
150,615
118,000

4oIono

S,000

£ #. d.
40 0 0
S3 0 0
15 0 0
75 0 0
8 18 0

i.Mi.aeo

S40,8]ft

159 18 0

WotmiBster— Attendance on Flaps, 4kc .

.. 4 0 0
jn63 16 o'

" The weekly cott prior to the contract tysten
wat in the sevwal dittiictt at £>llewi : —

428

LONDON LABOUR AND TUB LONDON POOR.

"Table Na II.

In th* W««f iTiitiftter Dittrict ........••••••

TV 10 0

M 17 0

n 0 0

^iirrev »nd Kcnl do.. .............

fi6 8 0

6 13 0

189 8 0

Henco there wonid appear to hare been a
taTiu{( of 251, 12s. effected. But by what meoni
wai this brought about 1 It it the old ttorj, I
regret to luy — a reduction of the wages of the
labouring men. But this, indeed, ii the inrariable
effect of the contract system. The wages of the
flushemipn prerious to Sept, 1848, were 2is. to
27t. a week ; under the present system they are
21«. to 22s. Here is a redaction of is. per week
per man, at the least ; and as there were about
150 hands employed at this period, it follows that
the gross weekly saving must have been equal to
80/., so that, according to the above account, there
would have been about 5/. left for the contractors
or middlemen. It is unworthy of ffcntlcmen to
make a parade of economy obtained by such igno-
ble means.

The engincem, howerer, speak of flushing as
what is popubkriy understood as but "a make-
shift " — as a system imperfect in itself, but ad-
Tan tageou»ly resorted to because obviating the
evils of a worse system still.

** With respect to these operations," says Mr.
Lovick, in a Report on the subjc*ct, in-Fchruary,
1840, " I may be permitted to state that, although
I do not approve of the flushing as an ultimate
system, or as a system to be adopted in the
future permanent works of sewerage, or that its
use should be contemplated with regulated sizes
of sewers, regulated supplies of water, and proper
falls, it appears to be the most clRcncinus and
economical for the purpose to which it is adapted
of any yet introduced.*'

A genilcman who was at one lime connected
profes^ionalIy with the management of the public
sewerage, said to me, —

" Mr. John Roe commenced the general system
of flushing sewers in London in 1S47. It is,
however, but a clumsy cxpedii'Ut, and quite in-
compatible with a perfect system of sewerage.
It has, nevertheless, been usefully applied as an
auxiliary to the existing system, though the cost
is frightfuL"

Or THB WORKIHQ FlUSDEBMEN.

WuEN the system of lewer cleansing first became
general, as I have detailed, the number of flush-
ermen employed, I am assured, on good autho-
rity, was about 500. The sewera wen, when
this process was first resorted to, fiill of deposit,
often what might be called *' coagulated " deposit,
which cuuld not be affected except by constantly
repeated efforts. There are now only about 100
flushermen, for the more regularly flushing is
repeati-d, the easier becomes the operation.

Until about 18 months ago, the flushermen
were employed directly by the Court of Sewers,

and were paid (*'in Mr. Soe'a time^" one du
nid, with a sigh) from 24t. to 27i. a voek ; now
the work if all dotu by eontracL There are bok
liz or MTen contxacton, all builden, who ondo^
dcrtake or an responsible for the whole work sf
flushing in the niictnpolitan diatricta (I do nst
•peak of the City), and they pay the working
flushermen 2U. a week, and the gaiifen 22i.
This wage is alwaya paid in monej, withont dcaw-
backs, and widiout the interrention of any other
middleman than the contractor middleman. Tkc
flushermen have no perqnisitea except what they
may chance to find in a lewer. Their timi of
labour is 6^ houn daily.

The state of the tide, howcTer, aometiinef,aa
matter of course, compels the 6ushernien to wod
at every hour of the day nnd night. At aS
timet they carry lights, common oil lam^ witk
cotton wicks; only the inipectora carry ivft
safety-lamp. I met no man who oonld asaga
any reason for this distinction, except thafttc
Davy " gave " such a bad light."

The flushermen wear, when at work, itrflo;
blue overcoats, waterproofed (but not lo mack u
used to be the cafe, the men then complaining of
the perspiration induced by them), buttoned clow
over the chest, and descending almost to tbe
knees, where it is met by huoe leather boot%
covering a part of the thigh, auch as an won fay
the iishcrmen on many of our coaati. Their ks!i
are fan-tuiled, like the dustmen**. The fluiher
men are well-condacted men generally, and, fci
the most part, fine stalwart good-looking speciiBeoi
of the English labourer ; wen they not known or
believed to be temperate, they would not be cib-
ployed. They have, as a body, no benefit or sick
clubs, but a third uf them, I was told, or perhapt
nearly a third, were meiabera of general htsitii
societies. I found several intelligent men am«g
them. They arc engaged by the contractors, a^
whom they cill to snlicit work.

" Since Mr. Roe's lime," nnd Air. Roe is *t>
dently the popular man among the flushenna,
or somewhat less than four years agn, the flusber
men have had to provide their own dresses, and
even their own shovels to stir up the deposit. To
contractors, the comforts or health of the labo-jr-
ing men must necessarily be a aecondary conside-
ration to the realization of a profit. New ircc
can always be found ; safe investments caunot.

The wages of the flushermen therefore have been
not only decreased, but their expenses increaseL
A pair of flushing-boots, covering a part of tbc
thigh, similar to those worn by sea-aide fishermeo,
costs '60t. as a low price, and a flushennan weus
out three pairs in two years. Boot stockings cost
2s. 6d. The jacket worn by the men at their v»rk
in the sewers, in the shape of a pilot jacket, but
fitting less loosely, is 7s. 6d, ; a blue smock, of
coarse common cloth (generally), worn over tb4
dress, costs 2.<. 6i/. ; a shovel ia 2^. Get " Ay, sir,^
said one man, who was greatly dissatisfied wiih
this change, ''they'll maice soldien find their
own regimentals next; and, may be, their oira
Runs, a'cause they can always get rucki of iLe:i
lor soldien or labourers. I know there '■ plestv

JLONDON LABOUR AND TUB ZANDQN FOOR.

429

wimld worit for less tbim we get, Imt whst-of that 1
There always it. There's huadredt weald do
the work for half what the sorrcyers and m-
spectors gets ; but it 's all right among the nobt."
Nor is the labour of the floshennen at all times
so eaij or of such cucnmscribed hours as I haye
slated it to be hi the regular way of flushing.
When small branch^ewers lATe to be flushed, the
deposit must first be loosened, or the water, instead
of sweeping it away, would flow orer it, and in
many of these sewets (most frequent in the Tower
HamieU) the height is not more than 8 feet
S<Rne of the flushermen are tall, bulky, strong
fellows, and cannot stand upright in less than
from 6 feet 8 inches to 6 feet, and in loosening
the deposit in low narrow sewers, "we go to
work," taid one of them, "on our bellies, like
frogs, with a rake between our legs. I 've been
blinded by steam in such sewers near Whitechapel
Church from the brewhouses ; I couldn't see for

it wat a regular London fog. You must
get out again into a main sewer on your belly ;
that's what makat it harder about the togs, tiiey
get worn so.*

The division of labour among the flushermen
appears to beat ii^ws: —

The Impeetor, whose duty it is to go round the
sereral sewers and see which require to be flushed.

The Oangtr, or head of the working gang, who
reeeires his orders from the inspector, and directs
the men aeeordingly.

The Xoci>lMp«r, or man wbo goes round to the
sewers which are about to be flushed, and fixes
the " penstocks" for retaining the water.

The Oang, which consists of from three to four
men, who loosen the deposit firom the bottom of the
sewer. Among these there is generally a ** for'ard
man," whose duty it is to remove the penstocks.

The ganger gets \t, a week over and aboye the
wages of the men.

TABLB SHOWINa THE DISTRICTS UNDBS THB MANAGBMBNT OF THE COM-
MISSIONEBS OF SEWERS; ALSO THE NUMBER AND SALARIES OF THE
CLERKS OF THE WORKS, ASSISTANT CLERKS OF THE WORKS, AND INSPEC-
TORS OF FLUSHING, PAID BY THB COMMISSIONERS, AND THE NUMBER
AND WAGES PAID TO THE FLUSHERMEN BY THB GENERAL CONTRACTORS.

P*id liy the CoinmiMioneti of Rewtti.

Prtid by Contraclon*

ClcDtjaf

AHttt.CIfttu

tnsTVPtDri

t»lip%Stuicc

Gm^tM.

FluaHeti.

Disraimv.

Wotki

of Wpfhi •.

orFluvhIniti.

Kc«|i{^i^

p

No.

' RAte of
„„ AnmuJ

N&,

Adeiu*!
Salary
flf tlie
whaJc

No.

Wage*
i3f the
wkoLc.

Ka

W«kly

No.

Weekly

Wt,*of

each-

£

£

M

£

f-\

t.

£ i.

FuIhAm fliid Ham-

ipera m { th,— <:auii-

l*r*fi €rvcK ftlid

m

Ranpl^tffh Dutrkru

3

450

4

ma

I

jm

^^

. ^

ft

n

i;«

21

834 4

WulminiUF Sew*

en,— VS eitrm Di-

^liimi, Eastern

Division, Rpgdit-

i1ii>tt I>iiiri^t«

Hoi horn Dlvj^un

4

300

3,

30&

I

m

e

3D0

13711

3

^

30

n

\tm 11

FsnitninDtvl^ionH—

Tow*f l^lATTilett

Lcv^b, andi'oplu

wd BkckwtUt

DMHrti

9

4M

9

soa

3

£80

1

7^

low

3

n

S7

SI

imn ic

Dittricti loutli of

theThamw......

3

4£0

e

tm

4

MO

12

374

17i4

S

sfl

£3

SJ

un i$

TotaJ ,.

13

lew

)A

IBQH

9

HUO

m

m4

Sim

m

^

^

^^

&t»9 4

ClTX

**

..

I . m

3 14&

2M

1

sk

0

u

MttU

Total ooat of flushing die stwtn £12.000 per annum.

* Theae ofltoen are paid only during the period of tenrice, and axe diiefly cngai^ on special works.

The corresponding oflloers for London ate under the City Commissioners.
*ai* The abore divlsloD of districts is the one adopted by the Commisslonen of Sewers, hut the dlsUiets of the
nmlMiiDen ar« more nunfeioua than those above given, being as follows :—

Ganger. Flushermen.
employing I and 6

Fttlham and Hammersmith
Counm^ Creek and Ranelagh Districts
Westminster (Western Divteion)
Ditto (Eastern DlTiaknij
Holbom DiTtslon
FiBsbnnp Division
Tower Hamlets Lc ..
Poplar and Bladcwall .
OlstrletBaottth of the Thames
Cky

d

12
8
9

10
8

S9
9

\ Ist District of Commissioners.
>2nd District of Commlsdonerh

SSrdDbtrictof
4th Distriflt of Commiarionen*

Holbom and FInsbury dis^lcts are under one contractor, and so are the two divisions of Westminster. The a

men who flush Holbom flush the FInsbury district also, 17 being the average number employed ; but the FInsbury
district reouirea rather mora men than the Holbom t and the same men who work on the western division of
Westminster flush alio tiM eastern, thenumber of flnshersin the western distziet being mori^ on afioouat of its being
the larger dtvlslon.

480

LONDOy LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

The inipector receives 80^ per annum.

The table on p. 429 showa the number of clerks
of the works, inspectors of flushing, flap and sluice
keepers, gangers, and flushermen employed in the
several districts throughout the metropolis, as well
as the salaries and wages of each and the whole.

None of the flushermen can be said to have
been " brought up to the business," for boys arc
never employed in the sewers. Neither had the
labourers been confined in their youth to any
branch of trade in particular, which would appear
to be consonant to such employment There are
now among the flushermen men who have been
accustomed to " all sorts of ground work :" tailors,
pot-boys, painters, one jeweller (some time ngo
there was also one gentleman), and shoemakers.
" You see, sir," said one informant, " many of such
like mechanics can't live above ground, so they
tries to get their bread underneath it. There used
to be a great many pensioners flushermen, which
weren't right," said one man, ''when so many
honest working men haven't a penny, and don't
know which way to turn theirselves; but pen-
'sioucrs have often good friends and good interest.
I don't hear any complaints that way now."

Among the fliuhermen are some ten or twelve
men who have bi>en engaged in sewer-work of one
kind or another between 20 and 30 years. The
cholera, I heard from several quarters, did not
(in 1848) attack any of the flushermen. The
answer to an inquiry on the subject generally was,
" Not one that I know of."

" It is a somewhat singular circumstance,*' says
Mr. Haywood, the City Surveyor, in his Report,
dated February, 1850, "thai none of the men
employed in the Oify seircrt in fliuhing and
cleoiisintj, have f'cen adacled with, or have died
of, cholera during the paM year; this %cas al,<o the
case in 1832-3. I do not state this to prove that
the atraogphere of the sewers is not unhealthy — I
by no means believe nn impure atmosphere is
healthy — but I state the naked fact, as it appears
to me a somewhat singular circumstance, and leave
it to pathologists to argne upon."

"I don't think flushing work disagrees with my
husband," ^aid a flushrrnmn's wife to me, '* for he
eats about as much again nt that work as he did at
the other." '* The smell underground is some-
times very bad," said the man, " but then we
generally take a drop of rum first, and something
to eat. It wouldn't do to go into it on an empty
stomach, 'cause it would get into our inside. But
in some sewers there 's scarcely any smell at all.
Afott of the men are healthy who are engaged in
it; and whf.n the cholera was al/out many used to
ask tw how it teas we escajycd"

The following statement contains the history of
an individual flushonnan: —

" I was brought up to the sea," he said, "and
served on board a man-of-war, the Jlacer, a IG-gun
brig, laying off Cuba, in the West Indies, and there-
away, watching the slavers. I served seven ycar^.
AVe were pjiid off in '43 at Portsmouth, and a
friend got me into the shores. It was a great
change from the open sea to a close shore — great;

and I didn't like it at all at first. Bat it tuts a
married man, as I am now, with a fiunily, mick
better than being a seaman, for a man aboard a M^
can hardly do bis children jostice In their ■^*"mJ^|
and such like. Well, I didn't much admin
going down the man-hole at first — the ' man-kole'
is a sort of iron trap-door that you uilock lad
pull up; it leads to a lot of aUym, and ao yoa get
into the shore — but one toon get* aocuttomed to
anything. I 've been at fluabing and skvre work
now since '43, all but eleven weekly whkk was
before I got engaged.

** We work in gangs from three to five men." [Hat
I had an account of the proceaa of flashing, sock
as I have given.] " I 'to been carried oflTmy feci
sometimes in the flash of a shore. Why, to-day,"
(a very rainy and windy day, Feb. 4.) "itoM
down Baker-street, when we flashed it, 4 Ibsl
plomb. It would have done for a mill-dam. Om
couldn't smoke or do anything. Oh, yes, we cm
have a pipe and a chat now and then in the sktn.
The tobacco checks the smell. No, I can't say I
felt the smell very bad when I first was ia i
shore. I 've felt it worse since. I 're been meds
innocent drunk like in a shore by a drain fitma
distiller's. That happened me first in Vine-stzcsc
shore, St. Giles's, from Mr. Rickett's distilJeiT.
It came into the shore like steam. No, I esal
say it tasted like gin when yoa breathed it—
only intoxicating like. It wna the sane n
Whitcchnpel from Smith's distillery. One night
I was forced to leave off there, the atean m
such an effect. I was falling on my bads, wha
a mate caught me. The breweries have sane
thing of the same effiect, but nothing like so stnig
as the distilleries. It comes into the shore froa
the brewers' places in steam. I *vc known luch
a steam followed by bushels of grains ; ay, sir,
cart-loads washed into the shore.

"Well, I never found anything in a jtAow
worth picking up but once a half-crown. That
was in the Buckingham Palace sewer. Anotba
time I found IQs. 6i/., and thought that mu a haul;
but every bit of it, every coin, shillings and sii-
pences and joeys, was bad — all smashers. Yes,
of course it was a disappointment, naturally sa.
That happened in Brick-lane .^hore, WhitechapeL
O, somebody or other had got frightened, I suppose,
and had shi^d the coins down into the drains. I
found them just by the chapel there."
« A second man gave me the following account of
his experience in flushing : —

" You remember, sir, that great storm on the lit
August, 1848. I was in three shores that fell ia
— Conduit-street and Poubert's-paasage, Regen^
street There was then a ri^k of being drowned
in the shores, but no lives were lost. All the
house-drains were blocked about Gamaby-market
— that 's the Foubert's- passage shore — and the
poor people was what you might call houseless. We
got in up to the neck in water in some pbues,
'cause we had to stoop, and knocked abont the
rubbish as well as we could, to give a way to the
water. The police put up barriers to prerent any
carts or carriages going that way along the sticets.
No, there was no lives lost in the shora. One

LONDON LABOUR AND TUB LONDON POOR.

431

man was to OTereome that he was fidling off into
a tort of ileep in liilford-hme ihort^ but was

Soiled out. I helped to pull him. He was as
eary as lead with one thing or other — wet» and
all that Another time, six or seven year ago,
Whiiechapel High-street tikon was almost choked
with butchers' o&l, and we had a great deal of
trouble with it."

Of tbk Rats ih thi Sewsbs.

I WILL now state what I have learned from long-
experienced men, as to the characteristics of the
rats in the sewers. To arrire even at a conjecture
as to the numbers of these creatures — now, as it
were, the popuktion of the sewers — I found impos-
sible, for no statistical obserrations hare been
made on the subject; but all my informants
agreed that the number of the animals had been
greatly diminished within these four or five years.

In the better-constructed sewers there are no
rats. In the old sewers they abound. The sewer
rat is the ordinary house or brown rat, excepting at
the outlets near the river, and here the water-rat
it seen.

The sewerrat is the common brown or Hano-
verian rat, laid by the Jacobites to have come in
with the first (George, and established itself after
the fiuhion of his royal fiunily ; and undoubtedly
saeh was about the era of their appearance. One
man, who had worked twelve years in the
sewers before flushing was general, told me he
*liad never seen but two black (or old English)
lats ; another man, of ten years' experience, had
aeen but one ; others had noted no difference in
the rats. I may observe that in my inquiries as
to the sale of rats (as a part of the live animals
dealt in by a class in the metropolis), I ascertained
that in the older granaries, where there were series
of floors, there w^ black as well as brown mts.
''Great black fellows," said one man who ma-
naged a Bermondsey gianary, "as would frighten
a kdy into asterisks to see of a sudden."

The rat is the only animal (bund in the sewers.
I met with no flusherman or other sewer-worker
who had ever seen a lixard, toad, or frog there,
although the existence of these creatures, in such
circumstances, has been presumed. A few live
oats find their way into the subterranean channels
when a house-drain is being built, or is opened foi;
repairs, or for any purpose, and lutve been seen by
theflushermen, &c., wandering about, looking lost,
mewing as if in misery, and avoiding any contact
with the sewage. The lats also — for they are not
of the water-mt breed — are exceedingly averse to
wetting their feet, and " take to the sewage," as it
was worded to me, only in prospect of danger ;
that is, .they then swim across or along the current
to escape with their lives. It is said that when a
hiekless cat has ventured into ;the sewers, she is
sometimes literally woxried by the mts. I could
not hear of such an attack having been witnessed
by any one ; but one intelligent and trustworthy
man said, that a fow years back (he believed about
eight yean) he had in one week found the skele-
tons of two cats in a particuUr part of an old

sewer, 21 feet wide, and in the drains opening
into it were perfect colonies of rats, raging with
hunger, he had no doubt, because a system of
trapping, newly resorted to, had prevented their
usual ingress into the houses up the drains. A
portion of their fur adhered to the two cats, but
the flesh had been eaten from their bones. About
that time a troop of rats flew at the feet of another
of my informants, and would no doubt have
maimed him seriously, " but my boots," laid he^
"stopped the devils." "The sewers generally
swarms with mts," said another man. " I runs
away from 'em ; I don't like 'em. They in genenl
gets away from us ; but in case we comes to a
stunt end where there 's a wall and no place for 'em
to get away, and we goes to touch 'em, they fly at
us. They 're some of 'em as big as good-sised .
kittens. One of our men caught hold of one the
other day by the tail, and he found it trying to
release itself, and the tail slipping through his
fingers ; so he put up his left hand to stop it, and
the rat caught hold of his finger, and the man 's
got an arm now as big as his thigh." I heard
from several that there had been occasionally
battles among the rats, one with another.

" Why, sir," said one flusherman, " as to the
number of rats, it ain't possible to say. There
hasn't been a census (hiughing) taken of them.
But I can tell you this — I was one of the first
flushermen when flushing came in general — I
think it was before Christmas, 1847, under Mr.
Boe — and there was cart-loads and cart-loads of
drowned mts carried into the Thames. It was in
a West Strand ikort that I saw the most I
don't exactly remember which, but I think
Northumberland-street By a block or a hitch of
some sort, there was, I should say, just a bushel
of drowned mts stopped at the comer of one of
the gates, which I swept into the next stream.
I see fiir fewer drowned mts now than before the
thore* was flushed. They 're not so plenty, that 's
one thing. Perhaps, too, they may have got to
understand about flushing, they 're that 'cute, and
manage to keep out of the way. About Newmte*
market was at one time the worst for rats. Men
couldn't venture into the sewers then, on aoeonnt
of the varmint It 's bad enough still, I hear, but
I haven't worked in the City for a few years."

The mts, from the best information at my com-
mand, do not derive much of their sustenance
from the matter in the sewers, or only in par-
ticular localities. These localities are the sewen
neighbouring a connected series of slaughter-
houses, as in Newgate-market, Whitechapel, Clare-
market, parts adjoining Smithfield-market, fcc
There, animal offd being (and having been to a
much greater extent five or six yean ago) swept
into the drains and sewen, the rats find their food.
In the sewen, generally, there is little food for
them, and none at all in the best<onstnicted
sewen, where there is a regular and sometimei
npid flow, and little or no deposit

The sewen are these animals' breeding groondi.
In them the broods are usually safe from the
molestation of men, dogs, or cats. These " breeding
grounds" are sometimes in the holes (excavated by

482

LONDON LABOUR AND TEB LONDON POOR.

tbe indnstry of the rats into csTes) which hare
been formed in the old sewers by a cnirabled brick
having fallen ont. Their nests, howeyer, are in
some parts even more frequent in places where old
rotting large house-drains or smaller sewers, empty
themseWes into a first-class sewer. Here, then, the
rats breed, and, in spite of precautions, find their
war up the drains or pipes, cren through the open-
ings into water-closets, into the houses for tlieir
food, nnd almost always at night. Of this fiict,
builders, and those best informed, are confident,
and it is proved indirectly by what I have stated
as to tbe deficiency of food fur a voracious cre.aturc
in all the sewers except a few. One man, long in
thft ecrvice of the Commissioners of Sewers, and
in diiTtrrent capacities, gave me tbe following
account of what may be called a rat settlement.
The statement I found confirmed by other working

quarters of these aminali — their **brceding-gwmnd^
indeed — I extract the following auioas matta
He says : —

" Now, I propose to lay down toj eakolatioas
at something leas than ono-hmlt In the fiisl
pU^e, I say four litters in tbe jenr, beginning wuL
ending with a litter, so making thirteen litters ii
three years ; secondly to have eight young omi
at a birth, half male and half female ; thirdly,
the young ones to have a litter at six mnoths
old.

" At this calculation, I will take one pair of tUtk ;
and at the expiration of three years what do jdi
suppose will bo the amonnt of liring rata ! Whr
no less a number than 646,808.

"Mr. Shaw's little dog 'Tiny/ nndtr six
pounds weight, has destroyed 2525 pain of m^
which, had they been permitted to lire, woaU,tf

men, and by superior officers under the same em- | the same calculation and in the Mune

hrn

ployment.

'* Why, sir, in the Mil ford-lane sewer, a goodish
bit befiire ynu got to the river, or to the Strand
— I can't say how for, a few hundred yards per-
haps— I *ve seen, and reported, what was a rcgu-
liir chamber of rats. If a brick didn't fiill out
from being rutted, the rats would get it out, and
send it among other rubbish into the sewer, for
this place was just the comer of a big drain. I
couldn't get into the rat-hole, of course not, but
I've brought my Inmp to the opening, and — aa
well as others — ^havc seen it plain. It was an
open place like a lot of tunnels, one over another.
Like a lot of rabbit burrows in the country — as
I 'vc known to be — or like the {tartitions in the
pigeon- houses : one here nnd another there. The
rat-holes, a* far as I could tell, wore worked one
after .nnother. I should say, in moderation, that
it was the size of a umall room ; well, say about

produced 1,633,190,200 linng rats I

" And the rats destroyed by Metsn. Shaw isd
Sabin in one year, amounting to 17,000 paii^
would, had they been permitted to live, have f»
duced, at the above calculation and in the saw
time, no less a number than 10,995,736,OM
living rats !

" Now, let us calculate the amonnt of honsBi
food that these nts wonld destroy. In the M
place, my informants tell me that six rats w3I
consume day by day ai much food ai a nn;
secondly, that the thing has been tested, nd iksi
the estimate given was, that eight rati vnll
consume more than an ordinary man.

'*Now, I^to Dlace the thing beyond thi
smallest shadow of a doubt — will aet down tea
mis to eat as much as a man, net a child; off
will I say anything about what rau wane.
And what shall we find to be the alarming n-

6 yards by 4. I can't s.iy about the hvight from ; sultl Why, that the first pair of rats, wiih th«ir
the lowest tunnel to the highest. I don't see three years' progeny, would consume in the nifr.t
that any one could. Uloss you, sir, 1 've some- | more food than 64,680 men the year ronnd, acd
times heerd tiie nits fighting nnd squeaking there, \ leaving eight rats to spare !"

like a j'arcol of drunken Iri>hmen — I have indeed.
Some of them were rare big fellows. If you threw
the liyht of your lamp on them sudden, they *d
be otT like ;i sliot. Well, I should say, there was
lit" pair ol rat^ there — there might be more,
besides all their yonng-uns. If a poor cat strayed

The author then puts forth the follo^-ing carioai
statement : —

*• And now for the vermin destroyed bv Mesni
Shaw and Sabin— 34,000 yearly! ' Taken at tbe
same calculation, with their three yean'prc^eny—
can you l>elieve it ? — they would consume mors

she. There 's lots of such places, sir, here, and
there, and cverj'where."

** I belif.ve rati*," says a late enthusiastic writer
on the Bul)j«.»ct, under the cognomen of Uncle
James, "to be one of the most fertile causes of
national and universal distress, nnd their attend-
ant.*, misery nnd starvation.**

From the nmhor's inquiries among practicil
men, and from his own study of the natural hi.s-
tory of the rat, he shows that these animals will
have six. peven, or eight nests of young in the
year, f >r thre? (»r four years together ; that they
ha\o iVcm f.vrlve t» twenty-three at n litter, nnd
biiod at thn o nmnths old : nnd that there are
mort- ffinalf th;in ninle rats, by ten to six.

The author .■se.-ms somewhat of an enthusiast
about rats, and as the sewerage is often the head-

Yes, if Onmipotence would raise up 29,673.6')0
; more people, these rats would consume as m»\
I food as them all ! You nmy wonder, but I vill
I prove it to you : — The population of the earth,
, including men, women, and children, is estimated
1 to be 970,000,000 souls; and the 17,000 raU ifl
! three years would produce 10,995,786,000 : cons^
I quently, at ten rats per man, there would be sofi*
cicnt rats to cat as much food as all the people M
the earth, and leaving 1,295,736,000. So thst if
I the human family were increased to 1,099,5 78,600,
instead of 970,000,000, there would be nts
enough to eat the food of tbem all ! Now, &iis»
is not this a most appalling thing, to think that
there are at the present time in the British Em-
pire thousands — nay, millions— of human beiogs
in a state of utter starvation, while rats are con-

into that sewer, she duran't tackle the rats, imt | food than the whole population of the earth 1

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOB.

4^

soming that which would place them and their
iamilies in a state of affluence and comfort ? I
a^ this simple question : Has not Parliament,
ere now, been summoned U]X>n mutters of far
less importance to the empire ? I think it has.**
The author then advocates the repeal of the
<* rat- tax," that is, the tax on what he calls the
** true friend of man and remorseless destroyer
of rats," the weU-bred terrier dog. " Take the
tax off rat-killing dogs " he says, ** and give a
legality to rat-k^ling, and let there bo in
each parish a man who will pay a reward per
head for dead rats, which are valuable fur
manure (as was done in the case of wolves in
the old days), and then rats would be extin-
guished for ever I " Uncle James seems to be a
I>erlcct Malthus among rats. The over-popula-
tion and over-rat theories ore about equal in
reason.

Of the Cesspoolage and Niohtmen of
the mxtbopolzs.

I HAVE already shown — it may be necessary to
remind the reader — that there are two modes
of removing the wet refuse of the metropolis :
the one by carrjing it off by means of sewers,
or, as it is designated, »eip«Ta^e; and the other
by depositing it in some neighbouring cess-
pool, or what is termed cesspoolage.

The object of sewerage is ** to transport the
wet refuse of a town to a river, or some power-
fully current stream, by a series of ducts.'* By
the system of cesspoolage, the wet refuse of
the household is collected in an ac^acent
tank, and when the reservoir is full, the con-
tents are removed to some other poi-U

The gross quantity of wet refuse annually
produced in the metropolis, and which conse-
quently has to bo removed by one or other of
the above means, is, as we have sceuy — liquid,
24,000,000,000 gallons; solid, 100,000 tons;
or altogether, by admeasurement, 3,820,000,000
cubic feet

The quantity of tliis wet refuse which finds
its way into the se\Ycrs by street and houso
drainage is, according to the experiments of
the Commissioners of Sewers (as detailed at
p. 388), 10,000,000 cubic feet per day, or
3,650,000,000 cubio feet per annum, so that
there remain about 170,000,000 cubic feet to
be accounted for. But, as wo have before seen,
the extent of surface from which the amount
of BO-caUed Metropolitan sewage was removed
was only 58 square miles, whereas that from
which the calculation was made concerning
the gross quantity of wet refuse produced
throughout the metropolis was 115 square
miles, or double the size. The 58 miles mea-
sured by the Commissioners, however, was by
far the denser moiety of the town, and that
in which the houses and streets were as 15 to 1 ;
80 tliat, allowing the remaining 58 miles of the
Buborban districts to have produced 20 times
leas sewage than the urban half of the metro-
polist the extra yield would have been about

180,500,000 cubio feet. Bat the greater pro-
portion, if not the whole, of the latter quantity
of wet house-refuse would be drained into open
ditches, where a considerable amount of evapora-
tion and absorption is continually going on, so
that a large allowance must be miade for loss by
these means. Perhaps, if we estimate the
quantity of sewage thus absorbed and evapo-
rated at between 10 and 20 per cent of the
whole, we shall not be wide of the truth, so
tbat we shall have to reduce the 182,000,000
cubic feet of suburban sewage to somewhere
about 150,000,000 cubic feet

This gives us the quantity of wet refuse
carried off by the sewers (covered and open) of
the meti'opoUs, and deducted from the gross
quantity of wet house-refuse, annually j>ro(/iic£(/
(3,820,000,000 cubic feet), leaves 20,000,000
cubic feet for the gross quantity carried off by
other means than the sewers ; that is to say,
the 20,000,000 cubic feet, if the calculation be
right, should be about the quantity deposited
every year in the London cesspools. Let us
see whether this approximates to anything
like the real quantity.

To ascertain the absolute quantity of wet
refuse annually conveyed into the metropolitan
cesspools, we must first ascertain the number
and capacity of the cesspools themselves.

Of the city of London, where the sewer-cess-
pool details are given with a minuteness highly
commendable, as affording statistical data of
great value, Mr. Hey wood gives us the follow-
ing returns :—

*' HonsE-D&AnnLoe or the Citt.

" The total number of premises
drained during the year was . • 310

** The approximate number of
premises drained at the expiration
of the year 1850 was 10,023

" The total number of premises
which may now. therefore be said
to be drained is 11,233

" And undrained 5,067

" I am induced," adds Mr. Ileywood, " to be-
lieve, from the reports of the district inspectors,
that a very far larger nimiber of houses are
olreatly drained than are herein given. Indeed
my impression is, that as many as 3000 might
be deducted from the 5007 houses as to the
drainage of which you have no information.

" Now, imtil the inspectors have completed
their auney of the whole qf the houses within
the city," continues the City surveyor, *' pre-
cise inibrmation cannot be given as to the num-
ber of houses yet undrained ; such information
appears to me very important to obtain speedily,
and I beg to recommend that instructions be
given to the inspectors to proceed with their
survey as n^idly as possible."

Hence it appears, that out of the 16,290
houses comprised within the boundaries of the
City, rather less than one-third, are reported to

No. LI.

^v:.

434

LONDO^r LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

have cesspools. Concerning the nnmber of cess-
pools without the City, the Board of Health, in
a Report on the cholera in 1849, pat forward
ono of its usaal extraordinary statements.

" At the last census in 1841," runs the Re-
port, " there were 270,850 houses in the metro-
polis. It is KNOWN that there 1$ scarcely a house
without a cesspool under i7, and that a large num-
her have tiiw, three, four, and xobe under them ;
80 that the number of such receptacles in the
metropolis may be taken at 300,000. The ex-
posed surface of each cesspool measures on an
average 0 feet, and the mean depth of the whole
is about 6^ feet; so that each contains 58^ cubic
feet of fermenting filth of the most poisonous,
noisome, and disgusting nature. The exhaling
surface of all the cesspools (300,000x9)
-> 2,700,000 feet, or equal to 62 acres nearly ;
and the total quantity of foul matter contained
within them (300,000 x 58i) = 17,550,000

cubic feet ; or equal to one enormouB elongated
stagnant cesspool 50 feet in width, 6 ft>et6
inches in depth, and extending through Lon-
don from the Broadway at Hammersmith to
Bow-bridge, a length of 10 miles.

^ This," say the Metropolitan Sanitaiy Com-
missioners, a body of fimctionaries so intimately
connected with the Board, that the one is ever
ready to swear to what the other asserts, ^ there
is reason to believe is an under esiimaU! **

Let us now compare this statement, which
declares it to be known that there is scarcely a
house in London without a cesspool, and that
many have two, three, four, and even more
under them — let as compare this, I say, with
the facts which were elicited by the same fane-
tionaries by means of a house-to-house inqoirj
in three different parishes — a poor, a middle-
class, and a rich one — the average rental of
each being 22/., 110/., and 128/.

RESULTS OF A HOUSE-TO-HOUSE INQUIRY IN THE PARISHES OF ST. GEORGE
THE MARTYR, SOUTHWARK, ST. ANNE'S, SOHO, AND ST. JAJVIESS, A3 TO
THE STATE OF THE WORKS OF WATER SUPPLY AND DRAINAGE.

CONDITION OF THE HOUSES.

From which replies have been received

With supply of Water —

To the bouse or premises • •
Near the privy ....
Butts or cisterns, covered
)> „ uncovered .
With a sink •

(Number)

(Per cent)

(Number)

• »
(Percent)

With a Well^

On or near premises •

Well tainted or foul
Houses damp in lower parts .
Houses with stagnant water on premises
Houses flooded in times of storm . •

iTouses with Drain—'

To premises

Houses with drains emitting oflfensivc smells
Houses with drains stopped at times

Houses witli dust-bin

Houses receiving offensive smells from acyoining
premises

Houses with privy

Houses with cesspool . . ....

Houses with water-closet .....

St.Oeorge

the

Martyr,

South waric.

PARISHES.

6,713

80-07
48-87
1,870
2,074
48-31

5-32
40-92
52-13
18-&4
18-15

87-50
45-11
22-37
42-00

27-82
07-03
82-12
10-00

St. Anne'fl,
Boho.

1,330

95-56

38-99

770

294

80-29

13-97
3-71

30-90
7-95
604

97-12
37-02
28-50
92-34

22-54
7003
47-27
45-99

St.JaiDeA.

2,960

96-48
43-42
1,021
303
80-70

13-85
7-30

20-07
205
4-05

90-42
21-41
1307
89-80

10-74
02-53
30*02
05-80

In this minute and searching investigation
there is not only an official guide to an estima-
tion of the number of cesspools in London, but
a curious indication of the character of the
houses in the respective parishes. In the

poorer parish of St. George tlie Martyr, South-
wark, the cesspools were to every 100 houses
as 82-12 ; in tlie aristocratic parish of St. James,
Westminster, as only 30*02 ; while in what may
be represented, perhaps, as the middle-class

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

isa

parish of St Anne, Soho, the cesspools were
47-27 per cent The number of wells on or
near the premises, and the proportion of those
tainted ; the ratio of the dampness of the lower
parts of the houses, of the stagnant water
ou the premises, and of the flooding of the
houses on occasions of storms, are all sig-
nificant indications of the difference in the cir-
cumstances of the inhabitants of these parishes
— of the difterence between the abodes of the
rich and the poor, the capitalists and the la-
bouring classes. But more significant still,
perhaps, of the domestic wants or comforts of
these dwellings, is the proportion of water-
closets to the houses in the poor parish and
the rich ; in the one they were but 10*06 per
cent; in the other 05*86 p>er cent.

These returns are sufficient to show the ex-
travagance of the Board's previous statement,
that there is *' scarcely a house in London
without a cesspool under it,'* while ** a large
number have two, three, four, and more," for
we find that even in the poorer parishes there
are only 82 cesspools to 100 houses. Moreover,
the engineers, after an official examination and
inquiry, reported that in the ** fever-nest, known
as Jacob's-island, Bermondsey," there were
1317 dwelling-houses and 648 cesspools, or not
quite 50 cesspools to 100 houses.

In rich, middle-class, and poor parishes, the
proportion of cesspools, then, it appears from
the inquiries of the Board of Health (their
guesses are of no earthly value), gives us an
average of something between 60 or 60 cess-
pools to every 100 houses. A subordinate
officer whom 1 saw, and who was engaged in
the cleansing and the filling-up of cesspools
when condemned, or when the houses are to
be drained anew into the sewers and the cess-
pools abolished, thought from his own exi)eri-
ence, the number of cesspools to be less than
one-half, but others thought it more.

On the other hand, a nightman told me he
was confident that every two houses in three
throughout London had cesspools; in the City,
liowever, we perceive that there is, at the ut-
most, only one house in every three undrained.
It will, therefore, be safest to adopt a middle
course, and assume 60 per cent of the houses
of the metropolis to be still without drainage
into the sewers.

Now the number of houses being 300,000,
it follows that the number of cesspools within
the area of the metropolis are about 150,000 ;
consequently the next step in the investigation
is to ascertain the average capacity of each, and
•60 arrive at the gross quantity of wet house-
refuse annually deposited in cesspools through-
out London.

The average size of the cesspools throughout
the metropolis is said, by the Board of Health,
io be 9 feet by 6^, which gives a capacity of
.58i cubic feet, and this for 160,000 houses -■
8,776,000 cubic feet But according to all ac-
jconnts these cesspools require on an average
two years to fill, so that the gross quantity of

wet refuse annually deposited in such places
can be taken at only half the above quantity,
viz. in round numbers, 4,600,000 cubic *feet.
This by weight, at the rate of 36*9 cubic feet
to the ton, gives 126,345 tons. This, however,
would appear to be of a piece with the gene-
rality of the statistics of the Board of Health,
and as wide of the truth as was the statement
that there was scarcely a house in London with-
out a cesspool, while many had three, four, and
even more. But I am credibly informed that
the average size of a cesspool is rather more
than 6 feet square and 6^ deep, so that the or-
dinary capacity would be 6) x 6^ x 6^ » 197
cubic feet, and this multiplied by 150,000 gives
an aggregate capacity of 29,650,000 cubit feet
But as the cesspools, according to all accounts,
become full only once in two years, it follows
that the gross quantity of cesspoolage annually
deposited throughout the metropolis must be
only one-half that quantity, or about 14,775,000
cubic feet

The calculation may be made another way,
viz. by the experience of the nightmen and
the sewer-cesspoolmen as to the average quan-
tity of reftise removed from the London cess-
pools whenever emptied, as well as the average
number emptied yearly.

The contents of a cesspool are never esti-
mated for any purpose of sale or labour by the
weight, but idways, as regards the nightmen's
work, by the load. Each night-cart load of
soil is considered, on an average, a ton in weight,
so that the nightmen readily estimate the num-
ber of tons by the number of cart-loads obtained*
The men employed in the cleansing of the cess-
pools by the new system of pumping agree with
the nightmen as to the average contents of a
cesspool.

As a general rule, a cesspool is filled every two
years, and holds, when ftill, about five tons.
One man, who had been upwards of 30 years in
the nightman's business, who had worked at it
more or less all that time himself, and who is
now foreman to a parish contractor and master-
nightman in a large way, spoke positively on
the subject The cesspools, he declared, were
emptied, as an average, by nightmen, once in
two years, and their average contents were five
loads of night-soil, it having been always un-
derstood in the trade that a night-cartload was
about a ton.* The total of the cesspool matter
is not affected by the frequency or paucity of the
cleansing away of the filth, for if one cesspool
be emptied yeariy, another is emptied every
second, third, fourth, or fifth year, and, accord-
ing to the size, the fair average is five tons of
cesspoolage emptied from each every other year.
One master-nightman had emptied as much as

• In one of their Reports the Boord of Health has
spoken of the yearly cleansing of the ceasnools ; but
a cesBDOol, I am assored. is rarely emptied by manual
labour, unless it be full, for as the process is generslly
regnrded as a nuisance, it is resorted to as seldom as
possible. It may, perhaps, be different with the oess-
pool-emptying by the hydraulic process which ia noi

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

fourteen tons of night-soil from a cesspool or
■oil-tank, and a contractor's man had onc«
emptied as many as eif^hteen tons, but botli
agreed as to the average of five tons every two
years from all. Neither knew the iwri^xl of the
accumnlation of the fourteen or the ei«r1iti?en
tonSf but supposed to be about live or six
years.

According to tliis mode of estimate, the quan-
tity of wet house-refiiHo deposited in cessjuwU
would be equal ^> l.V),0(M) k 5, or T.'iO.OOO tons
erery two yenrs. This, by admeasurement, at
tho rate of 8.5M) cubic feet to tin* ton, gives
2fl,U*i.'),000 cubic feet ; and ns this is tho nceu-
mulalion of two years, it follows that 18,40*2,500
cubic feet is tho quantity of cesspoolage de-
posited yearly.

Then' is still another mode of checking this
estimate.

I have alr*»ady given (see p. 38^, ante) the
avemjj'c production of each individual to the wet
rofU'<e of tho metn)polis. Accordinj? to the ex-
periments of Boussingault, confirmed by Liebig.
this, as I have stated, amounted to \ lb. of solid
and 1^ lb. of liquid excrement fn»m each indi-
vidual per diem ( — 150 lbs. for every loO per-
sons), while, including the wet rehise fnira
culinary opcratiuns, tlie average jield, accord-
ing to the sur^•oyor of the Commissioners of
Sewers, was equal to about 2ftO lbs. for every
100 individuals daily. I may add that this cal.
eolation was made officially, with engineering
minuteness, with a view to ascertain what
quantity of water, and what inclination in its
flow, would be required for the effective working
of a systom of drainage to sup<»rse<lo the eess
po<tls.* Nowtlie rcnsns of IhH sjiows us tljat
the avernire number of inhitbitaiits to <iu*h
hou"' tlinm^'liout the inetr»it'»Iis was T'O. an<l
this fur ].')(MMlO houses woiiM frive 1,1-4«),()(M)
people : c()ii>e«pieiitly the ^rus^ (jimnti'y ot" w«t
reftwe procee<lin'^ from this imnilu-r nfper-^MK,
at tlie rate (»f riSO lbs. to everj' 100 peoj»lo daily.
Would he •1<I1,400 tons per annum : or, hy ail-
nioasnrement, at tho rate of .*)r)*0 enhie fctt to
the ton, it would be cqiud to in,(>7(i,()00 cubic

fcM't.

A small pn)portion of this amount of re'^s-
poolaire ultiniat«*ly niakcs its appearance in the
sewers, heinfif j)unii)ed into them directly from
the ce^si)Ook when full by mejins of a &i>eciftl ap-
paratus, and thiw t«'n<l-< not only to swell the
bulk of sewa^'c, but to decrease in a like pro-
p<»rtion tho ag;:re«jfate «|Urtntity of wet liouse-
refuse, whirh is removed by cartajjre; but though
the i)roportion of eesspoola^'e which finally ap-
pears as sewage is daily increasjnir, still it is but
tritlinj,' compared with the quantity removed hy
cartai^e.

lfiTe,then, we have throe different estimates
as to the gross quantity of the London cesspool-
age, each bliglitly varying from the other two.

• It w.w .laccrtiiino'I tlint 3 g^vlkma (l»alf a cubic
foMtyof w:it«r wnuUl ciinr oil 1 lb. of tho more »<>li«i
ex. roTiLjutiLiouH luuttor through a 0-iuc!i pil»c, with
uu iiicliuaiuni of 1 in lu.

The first, drawn firom the Cable fieeU

averager capacity of the London
cessprioU, maices the gross
annual amount of cesspoolage 14,775;000

The second, deduced IVom
the average quantity removed
from each cesKpooI . . 18,462,500

And tho third, calculated
from the individual production
of wet refuse . , . 10,070,950

The mean of these three results U, in round
numbers, 15,000,000 cubic feet, bO that the
statement would stand thus : —

Tho quantity of wet house-
refuse annually carried ofl' by
sewers (chiefly covered) from.,
the urban moiety of the metro-
polis U (in cubic feet) . • 3,G5O/XX),000

Tho quantity annually car-
ried otTby sewers (principally
open) from the suburban moi-
ety of the metropolis « . Id0,000/)00

I

The total amount of wet
house-rcfuM aimuolly carried
ofl' by the sewers of the metro-
polis a,SOO/)00,000

The gross amount of wet i

house-refuse annually depo-
sited in cesspools throughout [
thomotropohs • . . lft,000,000

The total amount of sewage
and cesspoolage of the metro-
polis 3,815,000,000

Thus wo pirr»ivo that tlio total quantity of
wet house-refuse aimually rrmnrrr/, eorre«p»>n<ls
so clo^t ly with tlio gro^s «pian;ity of wet house-
refuse annually ;?r'»</«rrf/, that V. e may britily
\ cunclude the fjross sewage of London to l»e
' e(iual to ;J,s(HVH.M).(HK) cubic feet, and thegros*
j cesspoola'jje to be <'qnal to l.">, 000, 0(H) cubic feet.
Tlie accuracy (»f the above eonelusion mny Ix*
I tested hy another pn)cess; for,nnless the Board
' of Ifeultli's conjectural mode of fjettiu^i: at /i./i
ho adopted, it i> absolutely necess.iry that sta-
ti-.tics not only up<in this, but iudi.'cd any sub-
ject, he checked hy all the different modes there
may ho of aniving at the same concliusion.
I'also farts are worse than no facts at all.

Tho number of night men may be summed
up as follows: —

Masters .... 521

Labourers . • . . :iOO,000

Tho number of cesspools emptied during the
past year by those men may be estimated at
:>(),(•! ivJ : and the (luiuitityofsoil removed, 25.3,4(W
loads, or tons, and this at the rate of 35.9 cubic
ft. to tho ton gives a total of 0,009,214 cubic ft.

It might, perhaps, l»e exi)ected, that ft\»m
the (piantity of frccal refuse proceeding from the
inhabitants of the metropohs, a greater quantity
would he f(»und in the existent cesspools; but
there are many reasons for tlie conti-ary.

JLONDOX LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR,

lAl

One prime cause of the dispersion of
poolage is, that a considerable quantity of the
uight-soil does not find its way into the cess-
pools at all, but is, when the inhabitants have
no privies to their dwellings, thrown into
streets, and courts, and waste places.

I cannot show this better than by a few ex-
tracts from Dr. Hector Gavin's work, published
in 1848, entitled, ** Sanitary Ramblings ; being
Sketches and Illustrations of Bethnol Green,
<fec."

" Dighy-walkf Qlohe-rond. — ^Part of this place
is private property, and tlie landlord of the new
houses has built a cesspool, into which to drain
his houses, but he will not permit the other
houses to drain into this cesspool, unless the
parish pay to him 1/., a sum which it will not
pay." Of course the inhabitants throw their
garbage and filth into the streetor the by-places.

" Whiskefs-gardens, — This is a very extensive
piece of ground, which is laid out in neat plots,
as gardens. The choicest flowers are frequently
raided here, and great taste and considerable re-
finement are evidently possessed by those who
cultivate them. Now, among the cultivators are
the poor, even the very poor, of Bethnal-green.
. . . . Attached to all these liUle plots of
ground are snmmer-houses. In the generality of
cases they are mere wooden sheds, cabins, or
huts. It is very greatly to be regretted that the
proprietors of these gardens should permit the
slight and fragile sheds in them to be converted
into abodes for hiunan beings. . • . Some-
times they are di\'ided into rooms ; they are
planU'd on the damp undrained ground. The
privies am sheds erected over holes in the
ground ; the soil itself is removed from these
holes and is dug into the ground to promote its
fertility.

** Three Coil-lane. — ^A deep ditch has been
dug on either side of the Eastern Counties
Hallway by tlie Company. These ditches were
dug by the Company to prevent the foimdations
of the arches being endangered, and are in no
way to be considered as having been dag to
promote the health of the neighbourhood.
The double privies attached to the new houses
(22 in number) are immediately contiguous to
this ditch, and are constructed so that the
night-soil shall drain into it For this purpose
the cesspools are small, and the bottoms are
abore the level of the ditch."

It would be easy to multiply such proofs of
night-soil not finding its way into the cesspools,
but the suhjcct need not be further pursued, im-
portant as in many respects it may be. I need
but say, that in the several reports of the
Board of Health are similar accounts of other
localities. The same defioioncy of cesspoolage
is fbund in Paris, and from the same cause.

What may be the quantity of night-soil which
beeomea part of the contents of the street
•Ottfdnger'8 instead of the nightman's cart, no
steps have been taken, or perhaps can be
taken, by the public sanitaiy bodies to ascer-
tain. Many of the worst of the nuisances

(sueh ss that in Digby-street) ham been
abolished, hut they are still too characteristic
of the very poor districts. The fault, however,
appears to be with the owners of property, and
it is seldom theg are coerced into doing their
duty. The doubt of its *^ pacing " a capitalist
landlord to improve the unwholesome dwellings
of the poor seems to be regarded as a far more
sacred right, than the right of the people to be
delivered from the foul air and vile stenches
to which their poverty may condemn them.

There is, moreover, the great hut unascer-
tained waste from cesspool evaporation, and
it must be recollected that of the 2ilbs. of
cesspool refuse, calculated as the daily produce
of each individual, 2^1bs. are liquid.

The gross cesspoolage of 1 ^aris should amount
to upwards of 600,000 cubic metres, or more
tlian 21,000,000 cubic feet, at tlie estimate
of three pints daily per head. The quantity
actually collected* however, amounts to only
230,000 cubic mitres, or rather more tlian
8,000,000 cubic feet, which is 13,000,000 cubic
feet less than the amount produced.

In London, the cesspoolage of 190,000 lui-
draincd houses should, at the rate of 2ilbs.
to each individual and 15 inhabitants to every
two houses, amount to 10,500,000 cubic feet,
or about 400,000 loads, whereas the quantity
collected amounts to but little- more than
250,000 loads, or about 9,000,000 cubic feet.
Hence, the deficiency is 210,000 loads, or
7,500,000 cubic feet, which is nearly half of
the entire quantity.

In Paris, then, it would appear that only 88
per cent of the refuse which is not removed
by sewers is collected in the cesspools, whereas
in London about 54^ per cent is so collected.
The remainder in both cases is part deposited
in by-places and removed by the scavenger's
cart, part lost in evaporation, whereas a large
proportion of the deficiency arises from a less
quantity of water than the amount stated being
used by the very poor.

We liave now to see the means by which
this 15,000,000 cubic feet of cesspoolage is
annually removed, as well as to ascertain the
condition and incomes of the labourers en-
gaged in the removal of it.

Of the Cesspool System of London.

A CESSPOOii, or some equivalent contrivance,
has long existed in connexion witli the struc-
ture of the better class of houses in the
metropolis, and there seems every reason to
believe — though I am assured, on good au-
thority, Uiat there is no public or official
record of the matter known to exist — that
their use became more and more general, as
in the case of the sewers, after the rebuilding
of the City, consequent upon the great fire
of 1665.

The older cesspools were of two kind»—
*' soil-tanks" and " bog-holes."

** Soil-tanks" were the filth receptacles of

498

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

the larger hotwcs and sometimes works of
solid masonry ; tlicy were almost every size
and depth, but always perhaps much deeper
llian the modem ressporils, 'whicli pi-csent an
average di-i)th of 0 feet to G^ feet.

The ^* l>of;:-hnle" was, and is, a cavity dug
into the earth, lia\4ng less masonry tlian the
Roil-Uuik, and soinetimos no masonry at all.
being in like mimnor the recoi)tacle for the
wet refuse from tho house.

The difleivnce Iretwcen these old con-
trivances and the ]»n>sert mode is princii>ally
in tlie following respect : the soil-tank or bog.
hole formed a receptacle immediately under
the privy (the floor of wliich has usually to be
removed for pur^ioses of cleansing), whereas
the refuse is now more frequently carried into
the modem cesspool by a system of drainage,

private houses. The public cesspools ai«
cleansed, and, where possible, filled up by
order of the Commissioners of Sewers, tlie
co<it being then defrayed out of the rate.

The private eetspooU are cleansed at the ex-
pense of the occupiers of the houses.

Of the Cesspool and Sewer Ststex or
Pabis.

As the Court of Sewers have recently adopted
some of the French n.>gulations concemiDg
cesspoolage, I will now give an account of the
cesspool system of France.

When aiter the ravages of the epidemic cho-
lera of 1848-0, sanitaiy commissioners unJer
the authority of the legislature piursued ihrir
inquiries, it was deemed essential to repon

Sometimes the soil tank was, when the natiu*c^ui>on the cesspool system of Paris, as that

-^ .1 — :...-.:._ ^/. au : :.._ , •_ ^tpital had also been ravaged by tlie epidemir.

The ta^ was entrusted to Air. T. W. liammelL
CJa.

£ vetk in what the French delij^ht to deidgnile
--^ind in some respects justly — the most retined
city in the world, a filthy and indolent custom,
once common, as I have shown, in England, still
prevails. In Paris, the kitchen and dry house-
refuse (and formerly it was the feecal reftise
also) is deposited in the dark of the night in
the streets, and removed, as soon as the moni'
ing light permits, by tlie public scavengen.
But the refuse is not removed unexanuncd
before being thrown into the cart of the proper !
functionar}'. There is in Paris a large and i
peculiar dnss, the chifibnniers (liter^y, in
Anglo-Saxon rendering, the raggcrt^ or rag- ;
finders). These men nightly traverse the
streets, encli provided with a lantern, aiiJ
generally with a basket strapped to the ba^k;
the i»o(>rer sort, however — for poverty, liie
rniik, hns its grndatious — mako a bag answer
the i)urpose ; they have also a polo with an
iron ho(.k to its end; and a small shovel.
The dirt-lieaps or mounds of dr>' liouse-refnso
arc carefully turned over by these men : for
their morrow's bread, as in the case of our
own street-fmders, depends upon something
saleable being acquired. Their prizt^ aw
bones (wlii'jh sometimes they are seen to
gnaw); bits of bread; wasted pwtat».H-s; broken
pots, bottles, and glass; old pans and odd
pieees of old metal ; ci;,'ar-ends ; waste-paper, ,
and rags. Although these people are known
as rag-pickers, rags are, perhaps, the very
thing of which they pick the least, becausi
the Parisians are least apt to throw them
away. In some of tlie criminal trials in the
French capital, the eliillbniiiers have given evi-
dence (but not much of late) of what iheT
have found in a certain locality, and supplied
a link, sometimes an important* one, to the e\i-
dence against a criminal. "With these refuse
heaps is still sometimes mixed matter which
should havo found its way into the cesspools,
although this is an oifeuco punishable, auJ
occasionally punished.

of the situation of the premises permitted, in
some outer place, such as an obscure part of
the garden or court-yard ; and perhaps two or
more bog-holes were drained into it, while
often enough, by moans of a grate or a trap,
door, any kind of refuse to bo got rid of was
thrown into it

1 am informed that the average contents of
a bog-holo (such as now exist) are a cubic
yard of matter ; some are round, some oblong,
for there is, or was, great variation.

Of the few remaining soil-tanks the varying
sizes prevent any average being computable.

What the old system of cesspoolage w<u may
be judged fVoin the fact, that until somewhere
about IH.'JO no cesspool matter could, without
an indictable offence King committed, be
dniined into a sewer ! Xmr, no new house
can be erected, but it is an indictable offence
if the cesspool (or rather water-closet) mutter
be drained any\\ln»re eKo tlian into the sewer!
The law, nt the i>eriod ^^pl.'ci^u:d, required ni(»st
strani,'ely, so that ** the drains and sewei*s
mi.u'ht not be choked," that Ci-sspools should
'* \)x\ not only periodically emptied, but made
by nightnien.'

The jirincipal means of effecting the change
from res«^poolii;^'e to sewerage was the intro-
duction <if IJramairh wat»r-elosets, patented
in How, but not brought into general use for
srnne twmty years or more after that date.
The hoU'^es of the rich, owing to the refuse
Kfing drained away from the premises, im-
proved both in wh(»lesomeness and agi-eeablo-
iiess, and so the law was relaxi^d.

There are two kinds of cesspools, viz. ^jufc/ic
an<l private.

The public cexsponis arc those situated in
courts, alleys, and places, which, though often
packed thiirkly with inhabitants, are not horse-
thoroughfares, or thoroughfares at all ; and in
such places one, two, or more cesspools receive
the refuse from all the houses. 1 do not know
that any ollicial account of public cesspools
has been publi^hed as to their number, cha-
racter, Ac, but their number is insignificant
when compared with tlioso connected with

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOB.

430

Bofore the habits of the Pariidans are too
freely condemned, let it be borne in mind that
the houses of the French capital are much
larger than in London, and that each floor is
often the dwelling-place of a family. Such is
generally the case in London in the poorer
districts, but in Paris it pervades almost all
districts. There, some of the houses contain
70, not fugitive but permanent, inmates. The
average number of inhabitants to each house,
according to the last census, was upwards of
twenty-four (in London the average is 7'6),
the extremes being eleven to each house in
St. Giles's and between five and six in the
immediate suburbs (see p. 169, ante). Persons
who aro circumstanced then, as are the Pa-
risians, can hardly have at their command the
proper means and appliances for a sufficient
cleanliness, and for the promotion of what we
consider — but the two words are unknown to
the French language — ^th& comforts of a home,

** The greater portion of the liquid refuse,"
writes Mr. Rammell, " including water, which
has been used in culinary or cleansing pro-
cesses, is got rid of by means of open channels
laid across the court-yards and the foot pave-
ments to the street gutters, along which it
flows until it falls through the nearest gully
into the sewers, and ultimately into the Seine.
If produced in the upper part of a house, this
description of refuse is first poured into an
external shoot branching out of the rainwater
pipe, with one of which every floor is usually
provided. Lron pipes have been lately much
introduced in place of the open channels across
the foot pavements ; these are laid level with
the surfiEbce, and are cast with an open slit,
about one inch in width, at the top, to afibrd
facility for cleansing. During the busy parts
of the day there are constant streams of such
fluids rimning through most of the streets of
Paris, the smell arising from which is by no
means agreeable. In hot weather it is the
practice 1o turn on the public stand pipes for
an hour or two, to dilute the matter and ac-
celerate its flow."

" With respect to foecal refuse,** says Mr.
Bammell, ** and much of the house-slops, par-
ticularly those of bed-chambers, the cesspool
is universally adopted in Paris as the imme-
diate receptacle."

By far the greater proportion of the wet
house-refuse of Paris, therefore, is deposited
in cesspools.

I shall, then, immediately proceed to show
the quantity of matter thus collected yearly,
as well as the means by which it is removed.

The aggregate quantity of the cesspool mat-
ter of Paris has greatly increased in quantity
within the present centuiy, though this might
have been expected, as well from the increase
of population as from the improved construc-
tion of cesspools (preventing leakage), and
the increased supply of water in the French
metropolis.

The following figures show both the aggre-

gate quantity and the increase that has taken
place in the cesspoolage of Paris, itom 1610
to the present time : —

Cab. Metres. Cub. Feet.

In 1810 the total
quantity of refuse mat-
ter deposited in the ^
banins at Montfaucon
amounted to .... 50,151 = 1,770,330

In 1811 the quantity
was 40,545=1,748,938

In 1812 49,235 = 1,737,996

Giving an average ^— —

for the three years of . 49-877 = 1,760,658

The quantity at pre-
sent conveyed to Mont-
faucon and Bondy
amounts, according to
M. Heloin (a very good
auUiority), to from 600
to 700 cubic metres
daily, giving, in round
numbers, an annual
quantity of ... . 230,000 = 8,119,000

This shows an increase in 36 years of veiy
nearly 400 per cent, but still it constitutes
little more Uian one-half the cesspoolage of
London.

The quantity of reftise matter which is daily
drawn from the cesspools, Mr. Rammell states
— and he had eveiy assistance from the au-
thorities in prosecuting his inquiries — at ** be-
tween 600 and 70Q cubic metres; (21,180 and
24,710 cubic feet), giving, in round num-
bers, the annual quantity of 230,000 cubic
metres.

*' Dividing this annual quantity at 230,000
cubic metres (or 8,000,000 cubic feet) by the
number of the population of Paris (94,721 in-
dividuals, according to the last census), we
have 243 litres only as the annual produce
from each individual. The doily quantity of
matter (including water necessary for clean-
liness) passing from each person into the
cesspool in the better class of houses is stated
to be 1| litre (308 pints), or 638 litres an-
nually. The discrepancy between these two
quantities, wide as it is, must be accounted
for by the fact of a large proportion of the
lower orders in Paris rarely or ever using any
privy at all, and by allowing for the small
quantity of water made use of in the inferior
class of houses. There can be no doubt that
this latter quantity of 1} litre daily is very
nearly correct, and not above the average
quantity used in houses where a moderate
degree of cleanliness is observed. This pro-
portion was ascertained to hold good in the
case of some barracks in Paris, where the
contents of the cesspools were accurately
me&sured, the total quantity divided by the
number of men occupying the barracks, and
the quotient by the number of days since the
cesspools had been last emptied; the result
showiug a daily quantity of If litre from each
individuaL

440

LOSDOS LABorn AND THE LOSDOW POOR.

"The avomffc charprt per cnliii* mrtro for
oxtraclion and transpctrt nftlie (.'cs-iijoulrtgc is
iiiiifi liMMPS. pxinj: a [rv^-^-^i aniiuul chiir^'c of
2.n70,fH)0 francs (b;!,*'in»/. sterlin-), wljich
fium, it wuulil ujiiifiir, is paid evory year by
llnj hou-'f-iiropnttors (»f I'liris for the ex-
tratJtion (»1 ili' raalttr fn>ni their cosspof»ls, and
its traiisprirt to tho Vniri**."

Mr. liiiinnicll sm.vs that, were n tnhalor
hysteni of hnus-.'-draina^"*. siieli as 1ms hen
descrihod uudfT thi.' i)V»i)or hoftd. adojiti'd in
Paris, in li«Mi of tho i»ri'.«>ont modt», it would
cost loss than one-tciith of the oxi>enso now
inrnrrt'd.

Tlic itrincipnl \A\coi of deposit fnr tho
Ijonornl rffu>e of Taris has lonjf hen at
Montfaiiiron. A l-'ivnch writor, M. Juh-s
<iai-nicr, in a ivccnt work, " A WAi to Mont-
fain'on." says: — "For more than nine hnn-
dicd years Mimtfuncnn has beim il.'voti?d in
this puq^iiso. Tlicr.^ tlii* citiz«'ns of Tans di».
posited their filth before the walls of the
capital extended boynnd what is now the
contnd quarter. The distance between Paris
and Montfaucon was then more than a mile I
and a half." Thus it appears that Mont-
faucon was devoted to its pri^scnt purposes,
of course in a mu«*h iiiore limited de;?roo, as
eirly as the reisjjn of Kinjj Charles the Simple.

This deposit of cesspool matter is the
projiorty of the commun»j f as in the city of
Iiondon it would be said to bebm^ to the
** corporati-m-), ami it is fanni'd out, for
ti'rms of nine yeiir-:, to the hij,'hest bidilcrs.
The amount reo«'ivetl by the* conimimo has
gn-atly imn.-asrd. lu tlie fullowin-j returns,
whii.'h are ntln-ial, will sh-iw: —
A. P. Francs £ I

IHCS the c^'s«^pool;^go fet.'lied !)7.(MM), abt. ''\>^^0 J

1^17

It is li
• Mr. Ri

., 7. -),(»)(), ,, 3,001) '

ir..").n«MJ, „ 7.01X)
,, .Vr»,n )(), „ •J!,ni^O;

:•■^ that tlii^ '• iniclrt'ttv"* i.Twliiih I

.iiiH'H rtiippw>v8 I'.ij f'lll-jwing ii>«tc on tlio |
iwol " J'l r..lr«tt.-." I

" III rnTii.i.'xiiiii with tIii-« sii>;(-'f.," he •^•iy«. " :i few j
1 'i!*Tv.iti'>in uj»<iii tho :iiir.!:.M»i'in of p.-ulrcttc in j
i^:^icuUln.ll pri'LV*.-! nny i: -i U- witltout ir.tvicit i

•■ Witli n _-ird t) ti.L* !• rti:./ii..: jiri.i*..il:i--' I'f this ,
pr- j..ir.ii;o?i M. M:ixii'io I'l :!•.•:. i:i hi- .v.<rl; t-iitiilo I
•rhi5-iricet Pniti-iu-.- ih-^ Iji/nlx/^'iviS :i tablo «'f tlic
f.Ttili'.iii.: i|-i;.litii s ol v;ii i m> il.-.-.Ti|iti.>ii« ui' inannro, j
tho v.iluc «>t\:u'li boiiU'Ur .riiiinc-l by the «iuiint;Ly ..f :
I itro;,'i.'ii it ( lilt tint '1.i1li:i : f-r ;i ht.inl.'ir-l i,"*^"! ,
r. nil yard i''i!i^r. wlmh c >:.t ijiis I'li nn uvoi.iir'J 4 piT ■
l.HtO \,\' ni;riii:iM. aihI ms-iii.ii.K' that 1«MmO kili)-
•■.r.iiin:u«!4 ,'!ii»')nt 'J-.'ii.-n liin. 10ii;;ii.ih; i>:' tiii.-* inaiiuro
(i-.)MHmii.j.: \) kilojntiiiiii.i-^ i-f nitio^j !i) wk'. iiooc-j-
Miry to nia-iMrc mio ji-craro rj| ai-n-s i.viily ) (»r" I lud. I

Til inures n^iuiru-l to \tYij incu a Minilar ulic-jl wuuM '

^ as lull •

*'Ci<ivi f.n :n-yaril ilan;r. th- .pinritity usu-
.allv MprcjiJ i:j«n "ii«! h.cian I'l la.il

l-l<iiii Villi lit i|U.iiitiiiLS (i! h'liiiati urin.-, it<.'t.
ha*. iki»r uiul- •■.,nij f- nii'.M*:i*i')M

Eiiiiivalciii ■iiMiiti".i;.-j Lil p -u Irottcof M-n.t-

f:>U«:..ill

ll.piiv.iii-,', quantiti r i-'t" )iiixi» I hiiin.in «.\-
nviuei.t* (il.is nuanHty i havi* cakiilatcd
Irom liar a ^ivun in luc luinu wurk)

Kilojr. I
lO.fM.K) .
5,C'Jf) '
2,550

\,?,JA

have spoken elsewhere, is prepared. Besides
this bnmch of commerce, Montfuiicon has
establishments for the cxtraetiuc: ui' ammonia
from the cesspool matter, and the right cf
doing HO is now farmed out for &0,U(Xi fnmcs
ayoar (0'.>tX)/).

Montfaucim is on the nrtrth side of Paris,
and the place of refuse dfjiosit is known a»

Kil;!^.

" R iiiiTnlent qiuntities of lipiid blood of
tho alKkttoin l.sAj

KquivalcDt quautitiesitf boucB ... 6;^

Ki>iiivalcnt qiuuitillcfl uf avur.i£^ of guar.o
(twiiffpccimcu!! are i?i7cn) .... 512

Equivalent quADtitiescf nriiio of tho public
uriuklB ill fermoutatiou.andtiicoiuplobdv dried ^

" M. Paulctt cntiniatcii tho lu^s of tlib aniinorilae^
]irodiict> containcil in tho fa'cnl matton when th«r
nro withdrawn fVum the ocmpoola, by the time thcj
haro been ultimately reduood into ixnidrjtbc, at from
80 to '.iO per cent.

" I have not been able to meet with an aivOy-w of
the iiiattcTB fuund in tho flxe<l and Tnovabic ceMjnoki
of FuriH, but in tho 'Coura d'Agriculture,' uf M. 1«
Gomio de GaHjArin. I find an aualyaiit by HX.
Faycn und Bouasin^'ault of some xuotter taken fnm
the ccnpoole of Lille, and in the et^ito In which it »
orrlinonly need in the miburbe of tliat city aa nunnrn.
This matter waa foxind to contain on the avenge D-aaS

Iicr vent of nitrtigou, and thus by tho i-ulo oLecrrad
u drawing up the above UMc, ID 5lC kiln^n^mmfia cf
it would be ncceR&u-y to produce the same cTcct upon
one hectare of land u the other iiuuiurus tlicre mn*
lionetl. Tlio wide diOuronco botwceu thii quantity
an>l that (1333 kiUiynimmcfi) «tatud for the mixtd
human czcromcutJi in their undiluted f»tate. would
Ie.\d to the conclusion that a very larye proportion rf ■
water waa prcaoiit in the muttor aeut fnim Ijlh^
uuIoMa wo are to attribute a {Kirtiou of Lhc ditrtiraiuc to
tJie accidental chrcuiiMtanco of tho Ixul quality of tlii
matter. It appcani that thifl ia very >-nnabl^ aecnrl-
mir to the atyle of living of the ponu.uia prodncioff m.
' UjMtn thi5 aubjcet,' M. Paulct Huyft. ' the cave of u
ajTiiMiluiri>t in the iieighb'»iirli.m i cf I*;irii» li cit.-l
wlm liDiglit tho cmiti'iita of the ^-n .-»].. -.-.Is of o:. ■.(■?■ if- ■
fashi'iii.ihlc rv."»taiir.uits rif ttio Tal-tiN l^iyal. >lak:ii«
a pn)litab]o n{xvuIation uf it. hopnr^liaacd tho ma:te
I if the cesniXM'U of acvcnJ l-arrui^kK. Tli;a l^ar^nu.
however, iv»ilto-l in a l«>srf. f .>r th.. pn-»luoo tr.-in" this
last ma'ti r came very shi«rt of that jrivon by the tt^'J

'Ti^udrctto wcit'liM To kilo^rramniL-tj tho htet.!:tPf
(151 lli«. i-ur 2J. li.iWouiX Ml' I the qii.ai.tiiy \i*u.u.j
Hj»ro.iii iqKiu one licctaio cf land ('1^ arrv-* "iK-:;r;yji5
17;'"' kil>;ri;inirMO!*, lKJiiiij;it thi- r.itu o:'a''>imc I'-W .b*
|H'r iUTf Knplijth mc.a.siirc. It is «.a«<t u;m.ii the Iwri bj
till- }) lit 1, ill the inaiiiior that i*<.ni is H..>\vn.

" i'»ii<lretto ]«u'kuil in iKichs v^ry t<«>.>ii ilcf*r<v:
thi.111. Tiiis in always tlu- o-".;, wbctlicr il iswLjli
or li:is l»coii r.i'wly prfp.iiv-l.

•'.\ sorions :uvultnt t»o.iirro.l in ISIS. 0:1 Nxtrds
vcst'l ii.aiuoil tho Arthur, which 6.vilc-l fn^m Ko-ifc
will- ;i cir^'.i <if p'Mi Irutto f-r Cu i-Lili-Ui' •. l*'ii ">
till! v.iy:ijjo a di;«ia.s(: hrnko »'Ut 11:1 l-c. ml v.-iiioh oirrcl
• iffh.ilf thocnw, ami L flthcrciii:iMiil» rin a df] lonblJ
ht.ito of hcilth when they rucichotl their •ivs:inatii».
It alt u'kod ;ilsi> tlu- n.uii wli-* Ian '.ci [lio i.'.u-^''»; tLey
all Nu:r. red in a (,'ivatcr or loss do^Tcc. Iho ifc.»u.liv::'j
w.w jir.'vcd to ha»-o U-viishippel durinjra wot WiS.'':-,
aii'l til have Ikscii cxiwhcd IhSm-ciiHiI iluriu^ ahipiufut.
in a iiiauiiiT to alhiw it t<> absorb a c-t^usidcirui^
qiiaiitiiy ttf iiiiiiH'iiro. The a ^lil-.i.t a| p.'.ir.-' ;'»liivt
Ik en due t • the subs q'lont fiJ-Pi ntatJ«i!i «.'f l!.e rr i-*
in the h..ld-ijion-aMd to ;tn ii.ti-ns- d>'pTc«; by ti-'.-
iiKiistui-e it had ai-<piircd, and by the Dc-ai of a tTvii:n!
cliinatu.

" .M. rurcnt 'lu Chatelot, to whom the Tr..»U;rwas
rcferrel. r..C"niinfn'lc'l th.ir to u'uanl agaiM^: w:iii:J"
.aci'iiU'iita in future, the i)ir.idrettu int/nlod f-r cxric-
tatiun. ill onler i«» <loprive it cntiroly ui huuiiaitT.
i:m>-i1 1 be luixu 1 \\Jth an ab'i ilhiit i-ow.icr. a"i«"li y*
quu'kliiiic, and that it bhould bo iiackeil in coakfto
protect it ttMoi moiature during tho Toynge.**

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

the Voirie. The following account of it, and
of the manufacture of poudrette, is eurious in
mnny respects : —

" The areft, which is ahout 40 acres in ex-
tent, is divided iulo three irregular oomparl-
ments : —

" 1. The system of basins.

** 2. The ground used for spreading and
drying the matter.

** 3. The place where the matter is heaped
up after having been dried.

*^ The basins, standing for the most part in
gradations, one above another, by reason of
the slope of the gromid, are six in number.
The two upper ones, which are npon a leveln,
first receive the soil upon its arrival at tlie
Voirie; the four others are receptacles for
the more liquid portion as it gradually flotra
off from the ui>per basins.

*' There is a great difference in the oha
racter of the soil brought ; that taken frotm
the upper part of the cesspools, and amount-
ing to a large proportion of the whole, being
entirely liquid ; while the remainder is more
or less solid, according to the depth at which
it is taken. The whole, however, during
winter or rainy weather, is indiscriminately
deposited in the upper basins; but in diy
weather, the neariy solid portion is at once
thrown upon the drying-ground." ♦

* " It i« in the upper boaioB,*' ttddfl the Beporta.
" that the first separation of the lianids and aoUcU
takes place, the latter fklUng to the bottom, and the
former prradually flowing off through a iluioe into tl^o
lower basins. This first separation, however, is bv nij
means complete, a cousiderable d^Kwt takinff pJacc
in the lower basins. The mass in the imper Muinfl,
after three or four yean, then appears Uke a thick
mud, half liquid, half soUd; it is of depth vaxyinj;
firom 12 to 16 feet. In order entirdy to get rid of thi?
liquids, deep channels are then cut across the mac^
by which they are drained ofT, when the deposit soon
becomes sufficiently stiff to permit of its being dti^
out and spread upon the drying'grouud, whm to
assist tho desiccation, it is turned over two or thret;
times a-day by moans of a harrow drawn bv a horse .

*<Tho time necessary for the requisite desiooatic^n
varies a good deal, according to the season of the year,
the temperature, and the dry or moist state of tho
atmosphoro. Ere yet it is entirely deprived of hu-
midity, the matter is collected into heaps, varying iu
siae usually from 8 to 10 yards high, and from r>0
to 80 yards long, by 26 or 80 yards wide. Them/
he^)S or mounds generally remain a twelvemonth
untouched, sometimes even for two or three year» ;
bat ^ fast as the material Is required, they ara
worked from one of the sides by means of pickaxea,
abarels, and rakes ; the pieces separated are then
easily broken and reductxl to powdor. foreign sub^
stances being careflilly excluded. This operation,
which is the last the matter undergoes^ is peiformcHl
by women. The poudrette then appears like a mouM
of a grey-black coloiir, light, greasy to the touch, flnelj
grained, aud giving out a portiomar fidnt and nau-
MOOS odour.

*' The finer particles of matter carried by the liquicU
Into the lower basins, and there more gradually de-
posited in combination with a precipitate from tljo
urine, yield a variety of poodretto, prefiBrrBd, by tho
ikrmen, for its superior fertillaing properties. In th i ;>
eaae the drying proocas is conducted more slowly and
with more difficulty thou in the other, but more com-
pletely. ^

" In genera! the pondrotte Is dried with great diffi-
culty; it vgytan to have an extreme affinity fax

" The quantity of poudrette sold in 1818
was: —
AttheYoirie • • . . 50,000 aetiers *
Scut into the departments 20,000 „

Total sale 70,000 „

at prices of 7, 8, and 0 francs the setier.

"Tliis is equal, at the average price of
e franco, to 22,400/. sterling.

'* The refuse liquids, as fast as they over-
Oe^w the basins, or are passed through the
chemical works, are conducted into the public
«ewere, and through them into the Seine,
nearly opposite the Jardin des Plantes. They
ikm fall into the river at tlie very commence-
menl &fiU course through Paris, and pollute its
waters be/ore they have reached the various
works lower down and near the centre of the
citif, where they are raised and distributed for
homt hold purposes, for the supply of ballts^ and
for the public fountains,

^' Rats are found by thousands in the Voirie,
aud their voracity is such, that I have often
known them, during a single night, convert
into skeletons the carcasses of twenty horses
which had been brought thither the evening
before. The bones are burnt to heat the
coppers, or to get rid of them.

'' Speaking of the dis^pistmg practices at the
Voirie, Mr. Gisquet says, * I have seen men
stark naked, passing entire days in the midst
of the basins, seeking for any objects of value
they might contain. I have seen others flsh-
mg for Uie rotten fish the market mspectors
had caused to be thrown into the basins. Two
cartloads of spoilt and stinking mackerel were
thfown into the larsest of the basins ; two
hours afterwards &U the fish had disap-
peared,'

'* ITie emanations from the Voirie are, as
may well be supposed, most powerfully of-
fensive. To a stranger unaccustomed to the
atmo^^phere surrouncUng them it would be
filjnti&t impossible to make the tour of the
IfLsiris without being more or less affected
rith a disposition to nausea. Large and nn-
m^Dus bubbles of gas are seen constantly
rising Arom a lake of urine and water, while
evnpomtion of the most foul description is
going on from many acres of surrounding
ground^ upon which the solid matter is spread
lo diy.'^

The late M. Parent du Chfttelet, a high
authority on this matter, stated (in 1833)

water ; few substanees give out moistnra mors slowly,
or ftt« -rb it more flreediiy from the air.

" A Kood deal of heat Is generated in the heipe of
ckAJ Lf^t td matter. This is uways seiicible to the touch,
LiE.a suuctimes results in spootaneous combustion.

' The intensity of this beat la nci In proportion to
the ckvatioQ of teuipsiatuf of the atmoq>here. It is
prMiii D t^ by moisture. The only means of extingnlsh-
iiigibc fire when it is once developed is to turn over the
ni:Li» frr>ra top to bottom, in oroer to expose It to the
^r. WfttertaiewB npon it, unless In very larger
titk». would only inereaae its activity. **

* i| heaped bushels each, English mcasiue.

442

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

that the emanations from the Yoirie were in-
supportable within a circumference of 2000
mHres (about a mile and a quarter, English
measure) ; while the winds carried Uiem
sometimes, as was shown when an official
inquiry was made as to tlie ravages and causes
of cholera, 2^ miles ; and in certain states of
the atmosphere, 8 French miles (not quite
5 English miles). The same high authority
has also stated, that in addition to the emana-
tions from the cesspool matter at the Yoirio the
greater part of the carcasses of about 12,000
horses, and between 20,000 and 80,000 smaller
animals, were allowed to rot upon the ground
there.

To abate this nuisance a new Yoirie was,
more than 20 years since, formed in the*
forest of Bondy, 8 miles from Paris. It con-
sists of eight basins, four on each side* of the
Canal de I'Ourcq, arranged like those at Mont-
faucon. The area of these basins is little
short of 06,000 square yards, and their col-
lective capacity upwards of 261,000 cubic
yards. The expectations of the relief that
w> uld be experienced from the estabUshment
of the new Yoirie in the forest have not been
realized. The movable cesspools only have
been conveyed there, by boats on the canal,
to bo emptied; the empty casks being con-
veyed back by the same boats. The basins
are not yet full; for the conveyance by the
Canal de I'Ourcq is costly, and in winter its
traffic is sometimes suspended by its being
frozen. In one year the cost of conveying
these movable cesspools to Bondy was little
short of 1500/.

In the latt^st Report on this subject (1835)
tlie Commissionei-s, of wliora M. Parent du
Chatelet was one, recommend that all the
cesspool matter at the Voiries should be dis-
infected. M. SahiK.in, after a course of che-
mical experiments (the Kcport of the Com-
mission states), disinfected and carbonized a
mass of mud and filth, containing much
organic matter, deposited (from a sewer) on
the banks of the Seine.

The Commissioners say, " The discovery of
M. Salmon awakened the attention of the
contractoi*3 of M<mlfuucon, who employed one
of oiu: most skilful chemists to find for them
a means of disinfection other than that for
which ^r. Salmon had taken out a patent.
M. Sanson and some other persons mode
similar researches, and from their joint in-
vestigations it resulted tliat disinfection might
be equally well produced with turf ashes, with
carbonized turf, and with the simple dibris
of this very abundant substance; and that
the same success might be obtained with saw-
dust, with tlie re-fuse matter of the tan -yards,
with garden mould, so abundant in the en-
virons of Paris, and with many other sub-
stances. A curious experiment has even
shown, tliat after mixing with a clayey earth

perfect disinfectant powder. Theory had al.
ready indicated the result.

This disinfection, however, has not been
carried out in the Yoiries, nor in the manu-
facture of poudrette.

From the ac<x)unt of the general refuse
depositories of Paris we pass to the particular
receptacles or ces8i)Ool8 of the French capital.

The Parisian cesspools are of two sorts : —

1. Fixed or excavated cesapools.

2. Movable cesspools.

*• In early times the excavated cesspooh or
pits were constructed in the rudest manner,
and cleaned out more or less frequently, or
utterly neglected, at the discretion of their
owners. As the city increased in size, how.
ever, and as the permeations necessarily
taking place into the soil accnmulated in the
lapse of centorios, the evil resulting was found
to be of grave magnitude, calling for prompt
and vigorous interference on the part of the
authorities. It appears certain that prior to
the year 1819 (when a strict ordonnance
was issued on the subject) the cesspools were
very carelessly constructed. For the mos(
part they were far from water-tight, and very
probably were not intended to he otliorwise.
ConsequenUy, nearly the whole of the tluid
matter within them drained into the springs
beneath the substratum, or become absorbed
by the surrounding soiL Nor was this the
only evil : the basement walls of the houses
became saturated with the oflfensive permea-
tions, and the atmosphere, more pardculu-iy
in the interior of the dwellings, tainted with
their exhalations.

" The movable cetspoohy for the most part,
consist simply of tanks or barrels, wldch, when
full, are removed to some convenient sp>Dt fr«r
the purpose of their contents being ilisoliarge-.l.
This form of cesspool, though not leadinfj tj
that contamination of the substratum which
is naturally induced by the fixed or excavated
cesspool, may occasion many oflensive nui-
sances from carelessness in overfilling, or in
the process of emptj-ing." |

" The movable cesspools ore of two kinds;
the one," says ^Ir. Rammell, " extremely sim-
ple and primitive in construction, the other
more complicated. The former retains all the
refuse, botli liquid and solid, passed into it ;
tho latter retains only the solid matter, the
liquid being separated by a sort of strainer,
and runnuig ofi' into anotlier receptacle.

" The advantage of this separating ap-
paratus is, that those cesspools provided with
it require to be emptied less frequently than
the others ; the solid matter being alone
retained in the movablo part. Tho liquid
portion is withdrawn from the tank into which
it is received by pumping.

" The other kind of movable cesspool con-
sists sim.ply of a wooden cask set on end, and
having its top pierced to admit the soil-pipe.

a portion of fmcal matter, it was only neces- I It is intended to retain both solid and liquid
sary^ to carbonize this mixture to obtain a I matter. "When full, it is detached, and the

THE BEARDED CROSSING-SWEEPER AT THE
EXCHANGE.

[From a Photograph.']

\r^«y^ vi\.

LONDON LABOUB AND THE LONDON POOM.

443

npertnre in the top having hecn closed by a
tight-iitting lid secured by an iron bar placed
across, it is remored, and an empty one im-
mediately substituted for it.

^* The inoTable cesspool last described is
much more generally used than the other kind;
very few are furnished with the separating ap-
paratus. But the use of either sort, I am told,
is not on the increase. The movable oess-
pools arc found, on the whole, to be more
expensive than the fixed, besides entailing
many inconveniences, one of which is the
frequent enti*ance of workmen upon the pre-
mises for the purpose of removing them, which
sometimes has to be done every seoond or
third day. Moreover, if the cask becomes in
the slightest degree overcharged, there is an
overflow of matter."

Indeed, the movable system of cesspools
(it appears from further accounts) seems to
be now adopted only in those places where
fixed cesspools could not be altered in ac-
cordance with the ordonnance, or where it
is desired to avoid the first cost of a fixed
cesspool.

An ordonnance of 1819 enacts peremptorily
that all cesspools, fixed or excavated, then
existing, shall be altered in accordance with its
provisions upon the first subsequent emptying
after the date of the enactment, *^ or if that be
found impracticable, they shall be filled up."
This full delegation of power to a centralised
authority was the examjde prompting our
late stringent enactments as to buildings and
seweruj^e.

The French ordonnance provides also that
the walls, arches, and bottoms of the ces^ools,
shall be constructed of a very hard description
of stone, known as ''pierres meuU^res" (mill-
stone); the mortar used is to be hydraulic
lime and clean river sand. Each arch is to be
80 to 35 centimetres (12 to 14 inches) in
thickness, and the walls 45 to 00 centimetres
(18 to 20 inches) ; the interior height not to
be less than 2 mitres (3 yards 6 inches).
A soil-pipe is always to be placed in the
middle of the cesspool ; its interior diameter
is not to be less than 9| inches in pottery-ware
piping, or 7| inches in cast iron. A vent-pipe,
not less than 9{ inches in diameter, is to be
carried up to the level of the chimney-tops,
or to that of the chimneys d the adjoining
houses. This is, if possible, to divert the
smell from the house to wluch the cesspool
is attached.

*• A principal object of the ordonnance** it is
stated in the Beports, "was to eiisure the
cesspools being thenceforth made water-tight ;
80 tliat further pollution of the substratum
and springs might be prevented ; and the
provisions for its attainment have betn very
strictly enforced by the police. The present
cesspools are, in fiict, water-tight eonstmetiofis,
retaining the whole of the liquids passed into
them until the same are withdrawn by artificial
means. The advantage baa its attendant in-

conveniences, and, moreover, has %8en dearly
paid for ; for, independently of the cost of the
alterations and the increased cost of maldag
the cesspools in the outset — the liquids no
lonjser draining away by natural permeation
— the constant expense of emptying them has
enormously increased. In the better class of
houses, where water is more freely used, the
operation has now to be repeated every three,
four, or five months, whereas fbrmerly the
cesspool was emptied evcxy eighteen months
or two years. An increased water supply has
added to the evil, inoderate even now as the
extent of that supply is."

** It is estimated that, in the better class of
houses, the daily quantity of matter, including
the water necesaaiy for cleanliness and to
ensure the passage of Ike solids through the
soil-pipe, passing into the cesspoel from each
individual, amounts to If litre (3'08 English
pints). Foreign substances are found in great
abundance in the ces^DOols; the lar^e soil-
pipes permitting their easy introduction; so
that Ine cesspool becomes the common re-
ceptacle for a great variety of articles that it is
desired secreUy to get rid of. Article 19 of the
Police Regulations directs that nightmen find-
ing any articles in the cesspools, especially
such as lead to the suspicion of a crime or
misdemeanor, shall make a declaration of the
fact the same day to a Commissary of PoUce."

In all such matters the pcdice regulations of
France are far more stringent and exacting than
those of England.

''The cesspools vary consid^ably in foul-
ness," continues the Beport; "and it %$ remark-
able thai thote containing tke greate$t proportion of
water are the mo$t foul and dangerous This is
accounted for by the increased quantity of sul-
phuretted hydrogen gas evolved : and is more
particularly the case where, f^om their large
size, or from the small number of people using
them, much time is allowed for the matter to
stagnate and decompose in them. Soap-suds
are said to add materially to their offensive
and dangerous condition. The foulkess of the
ceupooU, therefore, would appear to be in dire^
proportion to the clsaxly habiit of the inmates
of tfte houses to which they respectively belong.
Where urine predominates ammoniacal va-
pours are given off in considerable quantities,
and although these affect the eyes of those ex-
posed to them — and the nightmen suffer much
from inflammation of these organs— no danger
to life results. The inflammation, however, is
often sufficiently acute to produce temporaiy
blindness, and from this cause the men are at
times thrown out of work for days together." *

* I did not bear any of th« London nightnoan or
aewermen complain of inflammation in the tje% and
no such effect wai visible ; nor that they sufferod fh>m
temporary blindues^ or were, indeed, thrown out of
work from any each oaoee; they merely remarked
that they were first dauled, or "dauA," with the
■oil. But the labour of the Faridan ia for more conti-
nuous aud regular than the London nightman, cmiaa
in a great desree to the qratem of mowMs cesspooU
inParifl.

LOKOOK LABOUR AND THE LONDON fOOR.

The MiA^ ^ ^ cmfMh ii the next
pdnt to be considered.

9o eetspool it aUowed to be emptied fai Parle,
and no nightman's oerty containing soil, is al-
lowed to be in the streets from 8 lm. to 10
pjf. from October 1st to March 81st, nor
from 8 kM, to 11 PJf. from April 1st to Sep.
tember SOth. In the winter season the honrs
of Isbonr permitted bj lew are ten, and in the
sommer season sefen. out of the twentj-foor ;
while in London the aoars of night-woric sre
limited to five, without anj distinction of see-
son. These hours, howi0er, only relate to the
cleanmng of the fixed cesspools of Paris.

Plxed or ezcsYated ceespools are emptied
into carts, which are driven to the receptiudes.
As far as regards the remofal of night-soil
slong the streets, thdit are te more fireonent
complaints of stench and annoyanee in Paris
than in London. Noneof these cesspools can
be emptied without anthoeity from the pohee,
and the police exercise a ^^gilant snpenrision
orer the whole arrangements; nsither can any
cesspool, sfter being enmtled, be dosed iflthoat
a written anthoritgr, after inspection, bj the
Director of Health; nor can a cesspool, if
found defeotiTe when emptied, be repahted
without such anthori^.

** With regard to the morahle oes8po61," it
is reported, ** the process of emptying is rwf
simple, though undonbtedlT demanding a con-
sidmble expenditure of labour. The.tank or
barrel, when filled, is disconneeted firom the
soil-pipe, an empty one being immediately sub-
stituted in its place, and the bung-hole behig
securely dosed, it is cooTcyed away on a rehlde,
somewhat resembling a brewer's dray (which
holds about eight or ten of them), to the spot
appointed as the depository of its discharged
contents. The removal of moTable cesspools
is allowed to take place during the day."

In opening a cesspool in Paris, precautions
are always taken to prevent acddents which
might result from the escape or ignition of the
gases.

The general, not to say universal, mode of
emptying the fixed or excavated cesspools is to
pump the contents into dosed carts for trans-
port.

" This operation is,* says Mr. Rnmmell,
" i)erformed with two descriptions of pumps, one
working on what may be called the hydraulic
principle, the other on the pneumatic. In the
former, the valves are placed in the pipe com-
municating between the cesspool and the cart,
and the matter itself is pumped. In the latter,
the valves are placed beyond the cart, and the
air being pumped out of the cart, the matter
flows into it to fill up the vacuum so occa-
sioned. The real principle is of course the
same in both cases, the matter being forced up
by atmospheric pressure. One advantage of
the pneumatio system is, that there are no
valves to impede the tree passage of matter
through the suction-pipe; another, that it per-
mits the use of a pipe of larger diameter.

** The eati employed fat the_ ^

tem consiste of an iroii cylinderi
sometimee upon four, but genecallj mm teo
wheels, the latter airangemeiit being found to
be the more convenient. Prerioias to use at
the oempodi, the certs ere drawn to a brsndi
establishment, situate Just within the Bairiers
dn Combati where thsgr are *iThanetad of sir
with sn air-pump, worioad by eteam power. A
18-horse engine erected there is eepable of ex-
hanstingfiveeszts at the same time ; the Taeasm
produced being equal to 88| inches (T8 ewti-
mHrss) of mercury. A cart Qsx good iffen^
and upon two wheels) will preeenro a pnAad
Tseuum for 48 hours after exhaustion."

The totsl weight of one of theae carts whse
frdl is about 8 tons and 8 owl. This is sens*
what more than the weight of the coartents of
a London wagoon empl^fed in night-eoil csr-
liage. Three horsee are attached to eaehflsit

When an opening into the oeeapool hasbe«
effected, a suction-pipe on the pneomatie prin-
ciple is Isid firom the ees^EKwl to the ooti
This pipe is 8(| inches in diameter, and is m
separate pieces of about 10 fleet eaeh, wiA
others shorter (down eren to 1 isot), ta
make vip sny exact length required. Tie
kinds sre commonly used; onemadeof leelha;
having iron wire wound roirally inaide to iie-
ventedllspee, the other of copper. TheleallMr
pipe is used where a certain degree of plisli-
u^ is reanired; the oopper for the staicht
puts of the line, and ibr detormined
pieees struck ficom Tarious radii '
fbr the purpose.

Outta-percha has been tried as a snbstxlute
for leather in the piping, but was prononuoed
liable to split, and its use was abandoned. So
vrith India-rubber in Loudon.

The communication between the suctioa-
pipe and the vehide used by the nightmen if
opened by withdrawing a plug by means of t
forked rod into the " recess " (hollow) of the
machine, an operation tasking the mnseo-
lar powers of two men. This done, the cess-
pool contents rush into the cart, being farcei
up by the weight of the atmosphere to occupy
the existing vacuum; this occupies about
three minutes. The cart, however, is then bot
three-fourths filled with mattor, the remaining
fourth being occupied by the rarefied air pre-
viously in the cart, and by the air contained in
the suction-pipe. This air is next withdravm
by the action of a small air-pump, worked osih
ally by two, but sometimes by one man. The
air-pump is placed on the ground at a little dis-
tance from the cesspool cart, and communi-
cates with it by a fiexible India-rubber tube, an
inch in diameter. The air, as ftst as it is
pumped out, is forced through another India-
rubbe^tube of similar dimensions, wliidi com-
municates with a fturnaoe, also placed on the
ground at a little distance firom the air-pump, i
the pump occupying the middle space between
the cart and the f^unaoe, the furnace and the
pump being portable. To asoenain when the

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

445

vehicle is full, a short |^las8 tube is inserted in
the end of the air-pipe (the end being of
brass), and through this, with the help of a
small lantern, the matter is seen to rise.

** The number of carts required for each
operation," states Mr. Bammell, *' of course va-
ries according to the size of the cesspool to be
emptied; but as these contain on the average
about five cart-loads, that is the number usu-
ally sent.*

" In addition to the carts for the transport
of the night-soil, a light-covered spring van
drawn by one horse is used to carry the tools,
&c., required in the process*

•♦ These tools consist of—

*' 1. An air-pump when the work is to be
done on tlie pneumatic system, and of an hy-
draulic pump when it is to be done on the
liydraulic system.

*' 2. About 50 metres of suction-pipe of va-
rious forms and lengths.

** 3. A furnace for the purpose of burning
the gases.

*' 4. Wooden hods for the removal of the
solid night-soil.

** 5. Pails, a ladder, pincers, levers, ham-
mers, and other articles."

I have hitherto spoken of the Pneumaiic
System of emptying the Parisian cesspools.
The results of the Hydraulic System are so
similar, as regards time, &c., that only a brief
notice Is required. The hydrauHo pump is
worked by four men ; it is placed on the ground
in the place most convenient for the operation,
and the cart is filled in the space of from three
to five minutes.

A furnace is used.

" The furnace," says the Beport, «* consists
of a sheet-iron cylinder, about nine inches in
diameter, pierced with small holes, and covered
M-ith a conical cap to prevent t^e flame spread-
ing. The vent-pipe first communicates under-
neath with a small reservoir, intended to
contain the matter in case the operation
should be carried too far. A piece is inserted
in the bottom of this reservoir, by unscrewing
which it may be emptied. The furnace is
sometimes fixed upon a plank, which rests
upon two projecting pieces behind the cart."

An indicator is also used to show the advance-
ment of the filling of the cart ; a glass tube
and a cork float are the chief portions of the
apparatus of the indicator.

^ Towards the end of the operation, when
the quantity of matter remaining in the cess-
pool, although sufficiently fluid, is too shallow

* It most be recoUectad. to aoooont for the greater
quantity of matter between the oesspools of Puis and
London, that the French fixed ceeepool, from the
greater avorage of inmates to each house, must neces-
sarily contain about three times and a half as much as
tliat of a London cesspool. If the dwellers in a
Parisian houses instead of aTentginff twenty-four,
averaged between seven and eight, as m London, the
cesspool contents in Paris would, at the above rate,
be between four and fire tons (as it is in Londoo) for
the average of each houa«.

for pumping, it is scooped into a large pail;
and, the end of the suction-pipe being intro-
duced, drawn up into the cart. When the
matter is in too solid a state to pass through
the pipe, it is carried to the cart in hods, un-
less it is in considerable quantity. In that
case it is removed in vessels called tinettet,
in the shape of a truncated cone, holding
each about 8^ cubic feet. These vessels ore
closed with a lid, and are lifted into an open
waggon for transport."

Of these two systems the pneumatic is the
more costly, and is likely to be supplanted by
the hydraulic. Each system, according to Mr.
Bammell, is still a nuisance, as, in spite of
eveiy precaution, the gases escape the moment
the cesspool emptying is commenced, and
vitiate the atmosphere. They force their way
very often through the joints of the pipes, and
are insufficiently consumed in the f&naces.
Mr. BammeU mentions his having twice,
after witnessing two of these operations, suf-
fered from attacks of illness. On the first
occasion, the men omitted to bum the foul
air, and the atmosphere being heavy with
moisture, the odour was so intense that it was
smelt from the Rue du Port Mahon to the Rue
Menars, more than 400 yards distant.

The emptying of the cessi)ools is let by con-
tract, the commune acting in the light of a
proprietor. To obtain a contract, a man must
have license or permission firom the prefect of
police, and such license is only granted after
proof that the applicant is provided with the
necessaiy apparatus, carts, &c., and also with
a suitable di^pAt for the reception of the
pumps, carts, &c., when not in use. The
stock-in-trade of a contractor is inspected at
least twice a-year, and if found inadequate or
out of zepair the license is commonly with-
drawn. The " gangs'' of nightmen employed
by the contractors are fixed by the law at four
men each (the number employed in Loudon),
but without any legal provision on the subject.
The terms of these contracts are not stated,
but they appear to have ceased to be under-
takings by individual capitalists, being all in
the hands of companies, known as compagnies
dc vidanges (filth companies). There are now
eight companies in Paris carrying on these
operations. More than half of the whole
work, however, is accomplished by one com-
pany, the " Compagnie Richer.'* The capital
invested in their working stock is said to ex-
ceed 4,800,000 francs (200,000/.). They now
require the labour of 350 horses, and the use
of 120 vehicles of difl(Brent descriptions.

The construction of a cesspool in Paris costs
about 18/. as an average. The houses con-
taining from 80 to 70 inmates may have two,
and occasionally more, cesspools. Taking the
average at one and a half, the capital sunk in a
cesspool is 27/. Mr. Rammell says : —

*' Adopting these calculations of the number
of cesspools to each house, and their cost, and
allowing only the small quantity of 1} litre (3*08

ZOITDOK LABOUR AND TBM ZONDOM MOB.

pinto) of ntttar to mAmdiMaMl^ flio i
expense of the eeMPOol MjtUim in Paris, p«
iMAue containing 24penQiifl« wiU bo»—

> For intorMt* tt 6 _
rank in woria of ooostratioo, II. ft.

" For acknslion and rmoral of matter,
MLUa.

« Totol, 01. ]8i.

'^ Tho annnal aipenM par Hiliahitant will be
Of.lM.

** The latter, then, maj be taken as the
aTerage jeariy sum jjier head aotnaUy paid bjr
that portioa of the inhahitanto of Paria who
use tne cesqtoola."

The following, among othen before shown,
aie the eondnainna aoived at by Mr. Bam-

1. ** That with tha moat per&et regulations,
and the qppMoation of mawrinea eonstmcted
iqpon sdentifle piindplea, the operation of
amntgring eeaapoola ia still annisanee, not oo^
to the inmatea of the boase to wUeh it bel
but to thoae of the
to persona paasing in

3. *« That the eeespooi ^jalem of Paria pre-
aanto an obataele to the pnper eKtension of
the water siqpply, and eonse^Mitlj represses
the growth of habito of personal and domeatie
elettlinees, with their immense mosal resnltoi
and that in thia respeet it majbeaaidto be
inoonaistent with a high degree of dviUxatioii
of the maaaea of any eomaianity.

3. ** That, eomipared with a tnhnlar ^yslsm of
reftise dndnage, it ia an eineedinglj ezpeoaiin
mode of disposing of the faealmfaie of atowB/

Of the ExPTYUfa of the Lokdou Cesspools
BY Puup AXD Hose.

Hayikq now ascertained the quantity of wet
houHe-refuse annually deposited in the cess-
pools of the metropolis, the next step is to
show the means by which these 15,000,000
cubic feet of cesspoolage are removed, and
wh^ce they are couTeyed, as well as the con-
dition of the labourers engaged in the business.
There are two methods of removing the soil
from tho tanks : —

1. By pump and hose, or tho hydraulic
method ;

2. By shovel and tube, or manual labour.
The first of these is the now French mode,

a>id the other the old English method of per.
forming tho work. The ^Unctive feature be-
tween me two is, that in the one ease the refuse
ia discharged by means of pipes iAto the sewers,
and in the other that it is conveyed by means
of carts to some distant night-yard.

According to the French mc^od, therefore,
the cesspoolage ultimately becomes sewage, the
refuse being deposited in a cesspool for a greater
or a less space of time, and finally discharged
into tbo sewers ; so that it is a lund of inter-
mediate process between the eesspool system
and the sewer system of defecating a town,
being, aa it were, a oompoond of the two.

the MBspool
of defiMBtkn, ii, that ifcadimte of thowet
bang rsmofed ftom the niiighhowfaood
hoaseassoonasitiipiodimd; vliEe the ad-
vantage of the Bsaipool syrtam, m eoatm-
distingatahed ftom tho winr mfeam,iB» OMt it
pretento the contamiw<ion of the megw"
the town dimwa ito ptWKapal Mpplj of
The oeaspool system of ' '
the main evil of tho oower ajstoin, aadflo
sewer ^yalem tho maiii evil of th« eeapari
system. ThoFranohmodo of easpt^iBgeH^
pools, however, ypears to hanm thm psmiBg
property of oombhung ^M ill oifihots of bedi
^ystsma without the amntagM of oitbor. Hi
refuse of the house not aafy vamstes iottii|
and aeething for nMmtha oBBdor tho Booea ef At
household, but it ia nltimatnly that ia,
morethanayear^ '

the a»i-o««i ft-'^tn w»ii<^l» »lfc^ Sih^^flfMi^ ■■ II ■ ■

plied with water, and 00 iwtnmod tothnas-

r aoMo punt, Ibr
ThoaolobeBeAti

luted in the fonn of

eooking, or drinking.

ing from the Frenohmode of

that it perfoims anoiaaaio opeimtioa ia a<

paratively deanlr mannar; bvianvdj thia its

aoMUeompensaaon fortlio ofils

pools to rapid aeweneoniiot be 00 parta *
oaisitive» tkai for the aake «if SfoidiBg the
ofthoaiglitmaniseait th<
ito ecBtettto ahonld U
water that thev nsa for

The hydranUe or ponp-end Imoo ailhoi if
emptying the oeaspoola ia now pnotinAbf tli
Court of Sewers, who introdoMd the pvoew
into London in the winter of 1847. The ip-
paratus used in this country consists of fo
hydraulic pump, which is geueralty placed ns
or eight feet distant firom, but sometimes <fon
to, the cesspool — indeed, on its edge. It is
worked by two men, ''just up and dowot^ai
one of the labourers described it to me,**lilDBi
fire-engine." A suction-pipe, with an iroa
nozzle, is placed in the cesspool, into whisk ii
fli-st introduced a deodorising fluid* in the pro*
portion, as well as can be estimated, of a piat
to a square yard of matter, and diluted sxA
water from the fire-plugs.

Tho pipes are of leather, the snction-pipei
being wrapped with spring-iron wire at the
joints. India-rubber pipes were used, aA
^ answered very tidy,** one of tho gangen toU
me, but they were too ezpenslTe, the matenil
being soon worn out: they were only tried fits
or six months. Tho pipes now employed difier
in no respect of size or appearance ih)m tka
leathern fire-engine pipes ; and aa the woric ii
always done in the daytime, and no smell arises
tcom it, the neighbourhood is often alannedfSad
people begin to ask where the fire is. One sot-
sideman said, *' >Vhy, that's alwaya asked, tn
been asked — ay, I dare say e hundred tnnei
in a day — * Where's the fiire? where's tbt
fire ? ' " A cesspool, by thia proeeas, has.lt^

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOS.

aa

emptied into a sewer ti 800 ysrds distant.
The pipe is placed within the nearest gnllyhole,
down which the matter is washed into the
sewer. When the cesspool is emptied, it is
well duiced with water; the water is pumped
into the sewer, and then the ircfA is complete.

The pimiping is occasionally rery hard work,
making the shoolders and backache grieronsly ;
indeed, some cesspools have been fonnd so long
neglected, and so choked with rags and mh-
bish, that manual labour had to be resorted to,
and the matter dug and tubbed out, after the
old mode of the nightmen. A square yard of
cesspoolage is cleared out, under ordinary cir-
cumstances, in an hour ; while an average dura-
tion of time for the deazMing of a regularly,
sized cesspool is from three to foiur hours.

A pneumatic pump, with an iron cart, drawn
by two horses (similar to the French inven-
tion), was tried as an experiment, but discon-
tinued in a fbrtnight.

For the hydrauHo method of emptying cess-
pools, a gang of four men, under the direction
I of a ganger, who makes a fifth, is required.

The divition of labmtr is as follows : —
I 1. The pumpmen, who, as their name im-
plies, woric the engine or pumps.

2. The holeman, who goes into the eesspool
and stirs up the matter, so as to make it as fluid
as possible.

S, The outsideman, whose bunness it is to
attend to the pipe, which reaches finom the cess-
pool, along the surface of the street, or other
place, to the gullyhole.

4. The ganger, who is the superintendent
of the whole, and is only sometimes present at
the operation ; he is not unfirequently engaged,
while one cesspool is being emptied, in making
an examination or any necessary arrangement
for the opening of another. He also gives
notice (acting under the instruction of the clerk
of the worics ) to the water company of the dis-
trict, that the pumps will be at work in this or
that place, a notice generally given a day in
advance, and the water is supplied gratuitously,
from a street fire-plug, and used at discretion,
some cesspool contents requiring three times
more water than others to Uquefy them suf-
ficient for pumping.

The cesspool-pumping gangs are six in num-
ber, each consisting of five men, although the
" outsidonan" is sometimes a strong youth of
seventeen or eighteen. The whole work is
done by a contractor, who makes an agree-
ment with the Court of Sewers, and finds the
necessary apparatus, appointing his own la-
bourers. All the present labourers, however,
have been selected as trusty men from among
Uie flushermen, the eontraetor concurring in
the recommendation of the elerk of the works,
or the inspector. The eesspool-sewermen work
in six districts. Two divisKms (east and west)
<^ Westminster; Finsbury and Holbom;
Surrey and Kent; Tower Hamlets (now in-
eluding Poplar) ; and the City. The districts
vary in size, but there it usually a gang devoted

to each: in case of emergency, however, a
gang froin another district (as among the
flushermen) is sent to expedite any pressing
woik. All the men are' paid by the job, the
payment being 2#. each per job, to the pump-
men and holeman, and 85. to the ganger;
but in addition to the 2s. per job, the holeman
has ad. a-day extra ; and the outsideman has
M. a-day deducted firom the 4j. he would earn
in two jobs, which is a frequent day's work.
The men told me that they had four or four and
a-half days* work (or eight or nine jobs) every
week; but such was the ease more particu-
larly when the householders were less cog-
nizant of the work, and did not think of
resorting to it ; now, I am assured, the men's
average employment may bo put at five days
a week, or ten jobs.

The perquisites of these workmen are none,
except the householder sends them some re-
freshment on his own accord. There may be
a perquisite, but very rarely, occurring to the
holeman, should he find anything in the soil ;
but the fludiugis far less common than among
the nightmen, with whom the process goes
through di£ferent stages. I did not hear among
eesspool-sewermen of' anything being found
by them or by their comrades ; of course, when
the soil is once absorbed into the pipe, it is
unseen on its course of deposit down the
gnllyhole.

The men have no trade societies, and no
arrangements of any equivalent nature; no
benefit clubs or sick dubs, for which their
number, indeed, is too small; or, as my in-
formant sometimes wound up in a climax,
** No, nothing that way, sir." They are sober
and industrious men, chiefly married, and with
families. Into further statistics, however, of
diet, rent, &c., I need not enter, concerning so
small a body ; they are the same as among
other well-conducted labourers.

The men find their own dresses, which are
of the same cost, form, and material as I have
described to pertain to the flushermen ; also
their own "picks" and shovels, costing re-
spectively 2». Orf. and 2$. dd. each.

One cesspool-sewerman told me, that when
he was first a member of one of those gangs he
was "awful abused" by the "regular night-
men," if be came across any of them " as was
beery, poor follows ; •* but that had all passed
over now.

The total sum pmd to the six gangs of la-
bourers in the course of the year would, at the
rate often cesspools empUedpcr week, amount
to the following : —

Yearly Total.

12 pumpmen, 10 jobs a-week each,
20«. per week, or 52/. per year, each . .£624

G holemen, ditto, ditto, with ^. (id.
a-week extra 351

0 outsidemen, 20». a-week, less by
M, Brdaj, or 2c. M. a-week, 4bl. lOs.

a-year 200

Carried forward . . 461271

418

hONDOS LABOUR AND THE LONDON FOOB.

Toarly TotiL
r.r«'>nght fonrard . • . j£l271
0 panders, 30*. a- week each, or "8/.
per year 468

jei730
Any householder, drc, who applies to the
C(nirt of Sewers, or to any officer of the court
wliom ho may know, has his c(»8pool cleansed
hy the hydraulic mcthodt in the same way as
h<i might employ any tradesman to do any
description of work proper to his calling. The
charge (by the Court of Sewers) is 5s. or G«.
Plt square yard, according to pipeage, d'c.
rt-quired ; a cesspool emptied by iliis system
oosts from 20«. to 30s. The charges of the
ni^'htmeii, who have to cmi>loy hones, &c., are
necessarily higher.

Estimating that throughout London
00 cesspools are cmptie<l hy the hy-
draulic method every week, or 31*iO
every year, and the charge for each to
be on an average 25«., we have for the
gross receipts . . 3120 x 2^s. —iCdOOO

And deducting fh>m this the sum
paid for labour 1739

It shows a profit of •

£2101

l*his is upwards of 123 per cent; but out
of this, interest on capital and wear and tear
of macliinerv have to he paid.

During the year 1851, I am credibly in-
f.trmed tliat as many as 3000 sewers were
(Hiiptied by tlie hydraulic process; and csdcu-
lutinp: each to have contained the average
qiiiiiitity <»f refuse, viz. five tons or loads, or
aliont IM) cultic ftvt, we havo an aggregate of
rilO.ocM) cubic feet of cesspoolage ultimately
caniril off by the sow»^rs. This, howt-ver, is
only a twriity-scveiith of the Mitiro quantity.

Tin- Sinn paid in wages to the men engaged
in emptying these JIOOO cesspools by the hy-
draulic i)rooess would, at tlie rato of 2*. per
mun to ilie foiu" members of the gang, and
35. to tlie canjjer, or 11#. in all for each cess-
I>o..l. jmi..nnt to lfi50/., which is 10!)/. and 250
cessi.oolb loss than tlic amount above given.

SxATEilENT OF A CeSSPOOL-SeWERMAN.

I (;rvE the following hricf and characteristic
stiiteiinnt, winch is pecuHar in shewing the
habitual n'stlessness of the mere labourer. My
informant was a stout, hale-h)(»king man, who
had rari^ly known illness. All tho^o sort of
labourers (nightmen included) scout the notion
of the cholera attacking ihcmf

" Work, sir ? Well, I think I do know what
Work is, and has known it since I was a child ;
and then I was set to help at the weaving. My
friends were weavers at Norwicli, and 20 years
a^'o. until steam pulled working men do\%iiVrom
I'ein;,' Well paid and well off, it was a capiud
irml\ wViy, my father c'»uld sometimes earn
Hi. at his work as a working weaver; there was

money for erer then ; now 12<. a-week is, I be-
lieve, the tip-top earnings of his trade. Bat
/ didn't like the coHjiMefmemt or the eioie mir m
the fadorieg, and so, when I grew big enough,
I went to ground-work in the city (so he fine-
quently called Norwich) ; I call ground-work
such as digging drains and the like. Then
I listed into the Marines. Oh^ I hartUff know
what made me ; men does foolish things and
don't know why ; it's human natur. rm sure
it wasn't the bounty of 3/. that tempted me,
for I was doing middling, and sometimes had
night-woric as well as ground-work to do.
I was then sent to Sheemess and pot oo
board the Thmnderer man^f-war, canning 8A
guns, as a marine. She sailed through the
Straits (of Gibraltar), and was three yean
and three months blockading the DardancUK
and cruising among the islands. I never saw
anything like such fortifications as at the Dar-
danelles ; why, there was mortars there as
would throw a ton weight. No, I nerer heard
of their having been fired. Yes, we some-
times got leave for a party to go a^oie oo
one of the islands. They called them Greek
islands, but I fancy as how it was Turks near
the Dardanelles. O yes, the men on the
islands was civil enough to us; they never
spoke to us, and we never spoke to them.
The sailors sometimes, and indeed the lot of
us, would have bits of larks with them, laogfa-
ing at 'em and taking sights at *em and soeh
like. Why, I've seen a fine-dressed Turk,
one of their grand gentlemen there^ when
a couple of sailors has each been taking •
sight at him, and dancing the shuffle aloog
witli it, make each on 'em a low bow, as solemn
as ctmld be. Perhaps he thought it was avaj"
of being civil in our country- 1 I've seen some
of tlie head ones stuck over with so bmot
knives, and cutlasses, and belts, and pistol^
an<l things, that he looked like a cutler's shop-
window. We were ordered home at last, and
after being some months in barracks, which
I didn't relisli at all, were paid off at lU^moutL
Oh, a barrack life's anything but pleasant, but
I'vcj done with it. After that I was eight years
and a quarter a gentleman's senmnt, coaoh-
man. or anjlhing (in Norwich), and then g«it
tired of that and came to Loudon, and got to
ground and new sewer-work, and have been on
the sewers above five years. Yes, I prefer tli«
sewers to the Greek islands. I was one of il»e
first set as worked a pump. There was a groat
many spectators ; I dare say as there was 40
skientitic gentlemen. I've been on the sewers,
llu>,hing and pumping, ever since. The houses
we clean out, all says it's far the l>est pbn,
ours is. ' Never no more nightmen,' they say.
You see, sir, our plan's far less trouble to the
people in the house, and there's no smell—
least I never found no smell, and it's cheap,
too. In time the nightmen '11 disappear : in
course they must, there's so many new dodpes
comes up, always some one of the working
classes is a being ruined« If it ain't steam,

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR*

440

it's sometbing else as knocks the bread out of
their mouths quite as quick."

Of the Pbesent Disposal of the Nioht-Soil.

It would appear, according to the previous cal-
culations, that of the 10,000,000 cubic feet of
house-refuse annually deposited in the cess-
pools of the nietroi>olis, about 500,000 cubic
feet are pumped by the French process into
the sewers ; consequently there still remains
about 14,500,000 cubic feet, or about 404,000
loads, to be disposed of by other means. I shall
now proceed to explain how the cesspoolage
proper, that is to say, that which is removed
by cartage rather than by being discharged
into the sewers, is ultimately got rid of.

Until about twenty months ago, when the
new sanitary regulations concerning the dis-
posal of night-soil came into operation, the
cesspool matter was ** shot " in a night-yard,
generally also a dust-yard. These were the
yards of the parish contractors, and were
situate in Maiden-lane, Paddington, &c., d'C.
Any sweeper-nightman, or any nightman, was
permitted by the proprietor of one of these
places to deposit his night-soil there. For
this the depositor received no payment, tlie
privilege of having " a shoot* being accounted
sufficient.

There were, tiU within these six or eight
years, I was informed, 60 places where cess-
pool manure could be shot. These included
the nightmen's yards and the wharves of manure
dealers (some of the small coasting vessels
taking it as ballast) ; but as regards the cess-
pool filth, there are now none of these places
of deposit, though some litUe, I was told, might
be done by stealth.

Of one of these night-yard factories Dr.Gavin
gave, in 1848, the following account :—

** On the western side of Spitalfields work-
house, and entering from a street called Queen-
street, is a nightman's yard. A heap of dung
and ref\ise of every description, about the size
of a tolerably large house, lies piled to the left
of the yard ; to the right is an artificial pond,
into which the contents of cesspools are thrown.
The contents are allowed to desiccate in the
open air; and they are freouently stinred for
that purpose. The odour which was given off
when the contents were raked up, to give me
an assurance that there was nothing so rery
bad in the alleged nuisance, drove me from
the place with the utmost speed.

*' On two sides of this horrid collection of
excremental matter was a patent manure manu-
factory. To the right in this yard was a large
accumulation of dung, &c., but to the left there
was an extensive layer of a compost of blood,
ashes, and nitric acid, which gave out the
most horrid, offensive, and disgusting con-
centration of putrescent odours it has ever
been my lot to be the victim of. The whole
place presented a most foul and filthy aspect,
and an example of the enormous outrages

which are perpetrated in London against
society.

** It is a ciuious fact, that the parties who
had charge of these two premises were each
dead to the foulness of their own most pesti-
lential nuisances. The nightman's servant
accused the premises of the manure manu-
facturer as the source of perpetual foul smells,
but thought his yard free from any particular
cause of complaint; while the servant of the
patent manure manufacturer diligently and
earnestly asserted the perfect freedom of his
master's yard from foul exhalations ; but
considered that the raking up of the drying
night-soil on the other side of the wall was
* quite awful, and enough to kill anybody.'

''Immediately adjoining the patent ma-
nure manufactory is the establishment of a
bottle merchant. He complained to mo in
the strongest terms of the expenses and
annoyances he had been put to through the
emanations which floated in the atmosphere
having caused his bottles to spoil the wino
which was placed in such as had not been
very recently washed. He was compelled fre-
quently to change his straw, and frequently to
wash his bottles, and considered that unless
the nuisance could be suppressed, he would
be compelled to leave his present premises."

This and similar places were suppressed
soon after the passing of the sanitary mea-
sures of September, 1848. ^

The cesspool refuse, which was disposed of
for manure, was at that time first shot into
recesses in the night-yard, where it was mixed
with exhausted hops procured from the brew-
houses, which were said to absorb the liquid
portions, when stirred up with the matter, and
to add not only to the consistency of the mass,
but to its readier portability for land manure
or for stowage in a barge. It was also mixed
with littered straw from the mews, and with
stable manure generally. An old man who
had worked many years— -he did not know how
many — in one of these yards, told me that
when this night-soil was ** fresh shot and first
mixed " (with the hops, &c.), the stench was
often dreadfhL ** How we stood it," he said,
** I don't know ; but we did stand it."

In one of the night-and-dust-yards, I ascer-
tained that as many as 50 loads, half of them
waggon-loads, have been shot ftom the pro-
prietor's own carts, and from the carts of the
nightmen ** using " the yard, in one morning,
but the average *' shoot" was about ten loads
(half a waggon) a-day for six days in the week.

Of the mode of manufacture of this manure,
a fuU account has been given in the details of
the cesspool system of Paris, for the process
was the same in London, although on a much
smaller scale; and indeed the manufacture
here was chiefly in the hands of Frenchmen.

The manure was, after it had been deposited
for periods varying from one month to five or
six, sold to farmers and gardeners at from
4s. to 5«. the cart-load, although 4s., I was in.

450

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

formod, might have been tlie general average.
The Cfs-^iiool matter, coiisiJtreJ ncr se, was
not wovlh, of late }\;ars, I am toUl, above il«.
a ton (or a load, which is soinetiines rather
more and sometimes less than a ton). It
was when mixed tliat tlic price was 4«. to
bs. a ton. This ces.'ipool filth was shot on the
premise s of the manufai-turer gratuitonslj, as
it wns in any of the night-yards. It was not
until it ])nd been kept some time, and had
been mixed (j:».'n orally) with other manures,
and sonu-tinies with ruad-sweepings, that this
mnnnr«> was ust^d in gardens ; for it was said
that if tills had not been done, its ammuniacal
vnpours would have been absorbed and retained
by tlio lenvos of the fruit-trees.

Tills night-soil manure was dc-voted to two
puri»()scs — to tlic manufacture of deodorized
and portable manure fi'r cxjiortation (chiefly
to onr supar-gix»wiiig colonies), and to the
fertilization of the land around I^ndon.

When manufactured into manuro it was
8hii>i)ed — in new casks generally, the manuro
casks of tho outward voynge being trans-
forinol inti) the brown sugar casks of the home-
wanbbound vessels. I was told by a seaman
who some ycni-s ago sailed to tlie West Indies,
that thi'-so manure c:isks in damp weather
gave (Hit an unpleasant odour.

It was only to tho home cultivators who re-
sided at no great distance fnmi n night-yard,
from five to six miles or a little more, tliat
this manure was sold to be carted away ; tlieir
attendance at the markets with carts, waggons,
and horses, giving them facilities of conveying
the manuvi' at a chcnp rate. But upwards of
thn.r r.iiirilis (»f th»^ uIiDlt^wu-. sriit in bni-ges
iiilo tlic. iijMjo uistaiit country i»!iit<;, ha\ing a
ri'iuly wiiter communiciition either i)y tlie
Tluiinos or liy canal.

The pun-lmser ncavrr liouK* conveyed it
n":iy in liis own cart, and \\itli his <i\vn horses,
wliiih liji:l pprluips coiiiou]»to town laden >\ith
rabbagfs to Ci»v«nt <iard( n, or liiiy to Cum-
borland-inr.rkt t, tho cart Ik 11114 irnuhy water-
ti«.'lit for the purpose. Tho '• l«i,'al hours " to
be ttbserv.Ml in tho clean-^in^r of ce.s^imols, and
tlic trnn-po't of tho cunti 11I-5 iijidu sihh
cb.ansiiiL', not being ro-niired to be oii->*:n*od in
tliii stvon-1 triinsport »4"the »m.-;-i>«»oI niaimro,
it was cnrtrdawuy at r.ny hour, as stable dung
now is.

It is not pos>i}dt> at the pro«^ent lime, when
ni'^ht-ynrds aro nolon;,'or lumniiicd to cxi.st in
London, nnd the nianut'ac tr.ro of th(> night-soil
minuro i.s consequently Mii»pr(ssod, to ascer-
tain tho ]M-oi:iso quantities disposed of coni-
luorciiilly. in a fonner stat^ of thinpr>?.

Tho money rotnrns to tho ma^ter-ni'j:htman
for tho manure he now collects noed no
ii^nnvs. 'J'ho law requiro> him to rifrain from
shootinfj this soil in his own yard, or in any
inhahito.l part of thoinctro]>olis, and it is shot
on the n< arest farm to wliioh he has acc«-ss,
merely for tho prinlogo of shooting it, the
former paying nothing for the deposit, with

which ho does what ha pleases. It is mixc-d
with other refuse, I was told, at present, and
kept as compost, or used on tho land, but tbt*
change is too recent for the establishment of
any systematic traffic in the article.

Of the Woiuaxo NioHrnM axd th£
Mods or Woas.

KioiiTwonK, by the provisions of the Policd
Act, is not to be ecmmcnced before twelve ai
night, nor continued bej'ond five in the mum-
ing, winter and summer alike. Tliis regulatimi
is known among the nightmen as the " legjl
hours," and tends, in a measure, to acsount
for the heterogeneous class of luhourers wli-j
still seek nightwork; for strong men think
little of devoting a port of the night, as well&«
Uio working hours of tlie day, to toiL A rub-
bish-carter, a very powerfuUj'-buUt man. toll
mo ho was partial to nightwork, and a!wA>>
looked out for it, even when in diaily emplor,
as *' it was sometimes like found money." The
scavengers, sweeps, dustmen, and iabouxcis
known as ground-workers, ore anxious to
obtain night-work when out of regular em-
ployment ; and, ten years and more since, it
was ofU^n an available and remuneradvc re-
source.

Night- work is, then, essentially, and perhaps ■
necessarily, extra- work, rather than a di^tiod
calling followed by a separate class of workers.
The generality of nightmen arc scavengers, or
dustmen, or chimney-sweepers, or rubbish-
carters, or pipe-layers, or ground-workers, or
coal porters, carmen or stablemen, or men
working for tho market-garde n<-rs rotmd I»u-
don — all either in or out of tinploymt nt. r»r-
haps there is not at the i^reseut time in Ui-
whole metropolis a working mgliimau vrho ir
s«'A li/ a working nightman.

It is almost the same with the mastor-m?h
men. 'J'hey are generally master - chiiunc;-
sweepers, scavengers, rubbish - cxirters, aiiJ
buililors. Some ofthe contractors for the publii: .
street Rcavcugory, and the house - dust - bin
emptying, are (or have been) nniongtholarjfii
emi)loycrs of nightmen, but only in their indivi-
dual trading cnpacity,for they have no contrac:-
with the parishes concerning llie cmptyiirj: i:
cesspools ; indeed the parish or district oorp.
rations have notliing to do with tho matter. 1
have already shown, that among the K^t-
patronised master -nightmen are now *Ji-.»
Commissioners of the Comt of Sewers.

For how bmg a period tho master and work-
ing chimney-sweepers and scavengers have
been the master and labouring uightrnen I am
unable to tUscover, but it may be reasonable ii>
assume that this connexion, as a matter c^l
trade, existed in tho metropohs at the com-
mencement ofthe eigliteentli contur>'.

The police of Paris, as I have shown, have full
centred over cesspool cleansing, but the police
of London are instructed merely to prevent
night- work being carried on at a later or earliiir

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOB.

451

period thftn ** the legal hours ;'* sdll a few mi-
nnten either way arc not regarded, and the legal
hourtf , I am told, are almost always adhered to.
Nightwork is carried on — and has heen bo
carried on, within the memory of the oldest men
in the trade, who had never heard their prede-
cessora speak of any other system — after this
method: — A gang of fonr men (exclusive of
those who have the care of the horses, and who
drive the night-caits to and from the scenes of
the men's labours at the cesspools) are set to
work. The labour of the gang is divided,
though not with any individual or especial
strictness, as follows : —

1. The holcman, who goes into the cesspool
and fills the tub.

2. The ropcmauj who raises the tub when
filled.

3. The tubmen (of whom there are two) , who
carry away the tub when raised, and empty it
into the cart.

The mode of work may be thus briefly de-
scribed:— Within a foot, orcvenless sometimes,
though often as much as three feet, below
the surface of the ground (when tlie cesspool is
away from the house) is what is called the ** main
hole.** This is the opening of the cesspool, and
is covered with flag stones, removable, wholly or
partially, by means of the pickaxe. If the cess-
pool bo immediately under the privy, tlie floor-
ing, kc.j is displaced. Should the soil bo near
enough to the surface, the tub is dipped into it-,
drawn out, the tilth scraped from its exterior
with a shovel, or swept ofl' with a besom, or
washed off by water flung against it Tvith suffi-
cient force. This done, the tubmen insert the
pole through the handles of the tub, and bear
it on their shoulders to the cart Tlie mode of
' carriage and the form of the tab have been
already shown in an illustration, which I was
assured by a nightman who ha<l seen it in a
shopwindow (for ho could not read), was " as
nat'ral as life, tub and all."

Thus far, the ropeman and theholemon gene-
rally aid in lllling tlie tub, but as the soil becomes
lower, the vessel is lot down and drawn up full
by the ropeman. When the soil becomes lower
still, a ladder is usually planted inside the cess-
pool ; the " holeman," who is generally tlie
strongest person in the gang, descends, shovels
the tub full, baring stiried up the refuse to
loosen it, and the contents, being drawn up by
the ropeman, are carried away as before de-
scribed.

The labour is sometimes severe. The tub
when filled, though it is never quite flUed, weighs
rarely less than eight stone, and sometimes
more; "but that, you se^, sir," a nightman said
to me, •* depends on the nature of the sile."

Beer, and bread and cheese, are given to the
nightmen, and frequently gin, while at their
work ; but as the bestowal of the spirit is volun-
tary, some householders from motivi.»s of econ-
omy, or from being real or pretended members
or admirers of the total -abstinence principles,
refuse to give ny strong liquor, and in that

case— >if snefa a ckftermination to withhold the
drink be known bcrforehand — the employers
sometimes supply the men with a glass or two ;
and the men, when ** nothing better ean be
done," elab their own money, and send to some
night-honse, often at a distance, to purchase
a small quantity on their own account. One
master -nightman said, he thought his men
worked best, indeed he was sure of it, " with a
drop to keep them up ;" another thought it did
them neither good nor harm, "in a moderate
way of taking it." Both these informants were
themselves temperate men, one rarely tasting
spirits. It is commonly enough said, that if the
nightmen have no " oUowance," they will work
neither as quickly nor as carefully as if accorded
the customar}' gin "perquisite." One man, cer-
tainly a very strong active person, whose services
where quickness in the work was indispensable
might be valuable (and he had work as a rub-
bish-carter also), told me that he for one would
not work for any man at nightwork if there was
not a fair allowance of drink, " to keep up his
strength," and he knew others of the same mind.
On my asking him what he considered a " fair"
aUowance,he told me that at least a bottle of gin
among the gang of four was " looked for, and
mostly had, over a gentleman's cesspool. And
litilc enough, too," the man said, " among four
of us ; what it holds if it's public-house gin is
uncertain : for you must know, sir, that soroo
bottles has great * kicks ' at their bottoms. But
I should say that tliere's been a bottle of gin
drunk at the clearing of every two, ay, and more
than every two, out of three cesspools emptied
in London ; and now that I come to think on
it, 1 should say that's been the case with three
out of every four."

Some mnster-nightmen, and more espociQlly
the sweeper-nightmen, work at the cesspools
themselves, although many of them arc men
" well to do in the world." One master I met ,
with, who had the reputation of being "warm,"
spoke of his own manual labour in shovelling
filth in tho same self-complacent tone that wo
may imagine might be used by a grocer, worth
his "plum,"' who quietly intimates that he will
sen'e a wtLshenvonian with her half ounce of
tea, and weigh it for her himself, as politely as
he wouM sene a ducliess ; for he wasn't above
his business: neither wa3 tho nightman.

On one occasion 1 went to see a gang of night-
men pt work. Large horn lanterns (for the night
was dark, though at intervals the stars shone
brilliantly) were placed at the edges of the cess-
pool. Two poles also were temporarily fixed in
the ground, to which lanterns were hung, but
this is not always the case. The work went
rapidly on, with little noise and no confusion.

The scene was peculiar enough. The arti-
ficial light, shining into the dark filthy-looking
cavern or cesspool, threw the adjacent houses
into a deep shade. All around was perfectly
still, and there was not an incident to interrupt
the labour, except that afr one time the window
of a neighbouring house was thrown up, a night-

No. LII.

\>\i

iM

lOimON JsABOUB AND TMB ZONJH>N FOOM^

Mpped head WW protandad, and thai down WM
banged the aaah irith an Impatiflnt eoMe. It
miandaa if agantleman'a unmben had been
dutoibed, though the nightman langhed and
dedarad it waa a lady'a iroiee! The amell, al-
though the air waa froatgr, waa for acme little
time, perhapaten miniitaa, Uterallj aiekAning ;
after thatpeiiod the chief aentation ezparienoed
waa a alight headache; the nnpleaaai^piaaa of
the odour atill oontinning, thoogh witkikfcany
aidMning eflbet The nightmen, howerer, pro-
nonnoed the ateneh ^nothing at all;" and one
even declared it was refingWog i
The oesapool in thia eaae waa 80 aitoated that

thaeart or nthar waggon eoold be plneed abQ«l
three jaida from iti ed^ ; aosnetime
the aoil haa to be carried throogh e
through the hooae, to the esceaelve
of the inmatWi The nightmen whom
efidentlr eajojed ebottleof gin, wbiefaihed been
provided ISor them bj the maater o£ the Itoaea^
aa well aa aome bread and oheeee, and two pota
ofbeer. When the waggon was fall, two hcnea
were bcooght from e ataUe on the pnmiMa
(an Acrangement which can onlj be oeciaaifomilh;
oarxied out) and joked to the Tehide, wUnT
waa at once driven away ; a smaUar cart aad
one hofae being need to cany off the

TABLE SHOWINa THE NUMBEB OF MASTEB.SWEEPS, DX73T, AND OTmB
CONTBAGTOBS, AND MASTEB-BBIGKLATEBS, THBOUGHOUT THS METBO-
P0LI8. ENGAGED IN NIGHT-WOBE, AS WEMi AS THE NUHBEB OF CESS-
POOLS EMPTIED, AKD QUANTITY OF SOIL OOLLEGTBD YEABI.T. ALSO
THE PBICE PAID TO EACH OPEBATIVE FEB LOAl^ OB FEB NIGHT, AND
THE TOTAL AMOUNT ANNUALLY PAID TO THE MASTEB-NIOHXKBN.

SWEEPS KUFLOTSP

AM

KIOHTHCN.

fHord

Frauds > , . . ,
Bussell

.Hougli

Clements . . .

Clayton * • , . .

S 1 Sheppaid , . .

> Haddosc.....
< lAlbTOok,...,
t'7P^«>cook

Keiloy ....,

White - .

BftmBbottom .

Neia

Porter ,.,..

Edvortls , . .

Andrewa H. . .

W&kefleld ...

Whalel<9y .
TempletoQ

1

e
u

8

m
13

10
IS

m
11

10
20
30

m

ao
la

lii

in

8

n

10

8
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ID
10

4^
72
4B

lao

72

GO

108

120

m

120
160

acta

120
72
72

00
48
48
00
48
30
00
00

II

24
48
24
SO
30
30
54
00
50
4E
00
120
240
180
60

m

30
S4

30

18

m

II

ToUV Ataotuii
" tX men during tlic

op«-ltlg

0
0

0
7
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0
6
6
0
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0
7
7
7
0
0
0
0
0
6
0
0
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1 4

1 IS O

1 4

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1 ID

1 10
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3 0

2 2

2 e
a 0

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10 10

6 la

3 0
) 10 €
1 10 0
1 10
1 4
1 4
1 10
1 4
^ 18
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0 1 1 10 d.

m

24
00

m

30
54
SO
33
48
60
00
160

im
m

30

M
30
24
24
30
U
18
30
SO

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR,

458

is

Effery . . .
Brigham •
BaUard....
Pottle . . .
Shadwick .
Wilson ...
Lewis • . .

Cnss

,Wood

•Prichard •
Randall .
Brown . . .
Lamb . . .
Bolton . . .

Duvis

Kickwood .

^Elkins . . .

Kippin . . .

I Bowden . . .

(Hughes . . .
Boven . . .
ChUcott . . .
Baker . . .
^Burrows .

Justo

Ncill

Robinson .
Marriage .

Rose

Hall

Jenkins . . .

Steel

I^e

Hewlett . . .

SneU

^McDonald .

{Mason . . .
Clark
Starkey . . .
Attewell .
Brown . . .

/'Store

Richards .
Norris . . ,
Eldridge .
Dims

Francis . . .
Tiney
Johnson .
Tinsey . . .
Randall . . .

iDfty

Catlin . . .

Richards .

Hntchins .
, Barker ,. ,

Duck

Eagle . . .

Froome . . .
^Smith ...

(Davis
Brown . . .
Day
Hawkins .
Grant ...

13

72

3

36

6a.

10

60

3

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6

8

48

3

24

6

25

150

4

100

7

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3

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6

20

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3

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6

10

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30

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30

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4

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7

20

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3

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6

20

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8

60

6

25

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3

75

6

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3

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6

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6

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3

80

6

8

48

3

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6

8

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6

6

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8

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6

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£1 16
1 10
1 4
3 15
3 0

3 0
1 10

4 10
8 0
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1 10
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0 18

1 4
1 4
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30
24
75
60
60
80
DO
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00
75
30
60
30
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4
18
24
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75
60
75
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24
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86
60
36
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12

180
80
30
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60
36
75
60
36
60
00
80
24
80
30
86
24
24
12

180
30
24
24
12
00
60
86
30
90
60
30
24
24

lU

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON ^OOR.

si

i4 •*

H

:3

1.^

/Brown

JMawley

J Stevens

I Badp^er

/Crozior

Jauies

Dawson

NeweU

lAmley

^^Harvoy

Raymcnt

Clarke

Watson

.Dcsater

fTyler and Tyso

Burgess

Wilson

Potter

Wrij?ht

>WelU

Wliiltlo

CollinM

Crew

Atwood

Conroy

Pusoy

^Pedrick

fCrosl.y

J Mull

1 Dnrby

(^Ilall

{Collins
Brozior
HaiTisou
Harris
Mnnt?:
,Wlnt.'lie.id

Kawtoii

"NVrothaiii

Ilan'woi.d

Utiwtlioni

l)iirliiijj:

Joins

Jolinson

>Siini)S()ii

Wilkinson

Gorin}»

Livtly

Stono

Ward

^King^buiy

Goorlgo

Wells

Wilks

James

Morj^'ftn

Croney

.Holmes

/'Xowell

tleming

Tuff

Hillingsworth . .

Smith

Field

20

120

4

86

7d,

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LOXDOy LABOUR J2fD THE LONDON POOB.

455

Si

00)1

J /"Weaver ...
3 J Strawson .
I 1 Culloder .
^ ^Ward .....

Vines

^ Hnmfry . . .

5 Young ...

** James . . .

Penn

Holliday .

Muggeridgo

Alcorn . . .

Fisher . . .

Goode . . .

Smith

Roberts . . .

Pilkington .

Lindsey . . .

Daycock . , .

Monlton .
/Boberts . . .

Holland . . .

Ballard ...

BroTm . . .

Mills

Giles

Spooner . . .

Green . . .

Bamham .

Price

g /Plummer .
g g Steers . . .

r|) Clare

S3]Garlick ...
I'J llludson ...
^ . ^ Jones

Foreman .

Smith

Giles

Davis

Flushman .

'Shelley .

Richardson

Norris ...

Smith ...

Dyer
a § /Manning .
^ 2 I Vines
g S -( Roscworthy
S5 I Tyler ...
0« vMunshin ..
. /Pearce

I Fiddeman i 12

§ J Suns

g I Smithers

^ I Rooko

•. \ James

I sj r Ridgeway

« a ( Binney

Total for Sweep-
nightmen

18

108

3

12

72

3

8

4S

3

10

60

8

12

72

3

15

90

3

10

CO

3

12

72

3

10

60

3

8

48

3

15

90

3

12

72

3

12

72

3

10

CO

3

8

48

3

8

48

3

9

54

3

6

30

3

0

36

3

4

24

3

25

150

4

12

72

3

12

72

3

8

48

3

10

CO

3

6

30

3

0

30

3

4

24

3

4

24

3

4

24

3

18

108

3

12

72

3

10

CO

3

8

48

3

6

36

3

4

24

3

15

90

3

10

CO

3

8

48

3

6

30

3

4

24

3

0

30

3

20

1^0

4

8

48

3

12

72

3

8

48

3

30

180

4

20

120

4

20

120

4

12

72

3

12

72

3

30

180

4

12

72

3

12

72

3

12

72

3

8

48

3

8

48

3

20

120

4

10

60

8

2tH)2

14960

3&4

54

Gd,

je2 14 0

30

0

1 10 0

24

6

1 4 0

30

6

1 10 0

30

0

1 10 0

45

6

2 5 0

30

6

1 10 0

30

0

1 10 0

30

6

1 10 0

24

6

14 0

45

6

2 5 0

30

6

1 10 0

30

0

1 10 0

30

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24

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24

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14 0

27

6

17 0

18

6

0 18 0

18

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0 12 0

54

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2 14 0

80

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1 10 0

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10,002

0&7rf.

455 15 0

£54
36
24
30
30
45
30
86
80
24
45
86
80
80
24
24
27
18
18
12
76
86
86
24
80
18
18
12
12
12
54
36
30
24
18
12
45
30
24
18
12
18
00
24
30
24
00
00
00
30
30
00
30
30
36
24
24
00
80

;er480

450

LONDOX LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOS.

DUST AND OTHER CONTRACTORS ENGAGED AS NIGHTinSK.

Darke

Cooper . . .

Dodd

Starkey ...
Williams...

Boyer

Gore

limpas . . .
Emmerscn.
Duggins . . .
Bugl)ee . . .

Gould

Heddin .. .
Newman . . .

Tame

SinDOt

Tomkins . . .
Cordroy . . .
Samaels . . .
BobinBon .

Bird

Clarke

Brown

Bonner . . .

Guess

Jeffries . . .

Ryan

Hewitt

Leimming .

ElUs

Monk

rhillips ...

Porter

Dubbins . . .

Taylor

Nicholls . . .
Freeman. . .
Puttison . . .
liawlins . . .
"NVatkins . . .
LidJiard . . .
Fanner . . .
Francis . . .
Chadwick .
Perkins . . .
Culverwell .

Rutty

Croo'k

McCarthy .
Bateuian . . .
Bootho . . .

Wood

Calvert . . .

Tilley

Abbott . . .

Potter

Church ...
Humphries
Jackson . . .
Batterbury .

Loais.

Pmce.

50

300

4

200

8

300

IBOO

4

1200

8

300

1800

4

1200

8

250

1500

4

1000

8

200

1200

4

800

8

150

000

4

000

8

200

1200

4

800

8

200

1200

4

800

8

150

000

4

000

8

300

2100

4

1440

8

250

1500

4

1000

8

200

1200

4

800

8

200

1200

4

800

8

200

12fM)

4

800

8

300

1800

4

1200

8

200

1200

4

800

8

200

1200

4

800

8

150

000

4

000

8

150

000

4

000

8

100

000

4

400

8

100

000

4

400

8

100

COO

4

400

8

100

000

4

400

8

150

000

4

000

8

100

000

4

400

8

200

1200

4

800

8

00

800

4

240

8

100

000

4

400

8

50

300

4

200

8

100

000

4

4t)0

8

150

000

4

COO

8

iiijO

1000

4

1000

8

•-•(HI

l2no

4

800

8

loO

000

4

COO

8

10(»

r.oo

4

400

8

iiOO

1000

4

J 000

8

' lOl)

flOO

4

400

8

1 200

1200

1

fSoO

8

! i:,()

1)(H)

■1

000

8

200

l-,>0()

4

800

8

100

000

4

4(X)

8

250

i.->oo

4

1000

8

100

000

4

000

8

200

1200

4

800

8

80

480

4

320

8

100

coo

4

400

8

150

000

4

COO

8

100

coo

4

400

8

50

300

4

200

8

100

000

4

400

8

250

1500

4

1000

8

100

000

4

400

8

150

000

4

COO

8

200

1200

4

800

8

100

0(K)

4

400

8

250

1500

4

1000

8

100

000

4

400

8

2(K)

1200

4

800

8

100

000

4

400

8

50

300

4

200

8

£
10
60
60
50
40
30
40
40
30
72
50
40
40
40
60
40

20
20

20

40
12
20
10
20
30
33
40
30

20
50

20
30
40

20
40
20
10

40 0

30 0

30 e

20 0

20 0
30 0

0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
8
0
0
0
8
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0

10 0 0
20 0 0
30 0 0
20 0 0
10 0 0
20 0 0
50 0 0
0 0
0 0
0 0
20 0 0
50 0 0
0 0
0 0
0 0
0 0

20 0

33 0

20 0

40 0

30 0

40 0

30 0
40 0

0
10

0
10

£ t.
157 10
045 0
945

787

cso

472
630 0
630 0

472 10
1134 0

787 10

630 0

630

630

945

630

630

473 10
472 10
315 0
315 0
315 0
315 0
472 10
315 0-
630 0
180 0
815 0
157 10
315 0
472 10
525 0
630 0
472 10
315 0
525 0
315 0
630 0
472 10
C30 0
315 0
787 10
472 10
630 0
252 0
315 0
472 10
315 0
157 10
315 0
787 10
315 0
472 10
030 0
815
787
315
630
815

0
10
0
0
0

157 10

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOB,

Smith

Perkins

Rose

Croot

Speller

Piper

North

Crocker

Tingey

Jones

Whitten

Webbon

Ryder

Wright

Duokett

Elworthy

Slee

Adams

Gutteris

Martainbody ....

Nicholson

Meors

Parsons , .

Kenning

Hooke

Michell

Walton

Evans

Walker

Hobman

Stevens

JefBy

Hiscock

Allen

Connall

Waller

Mullard

Miller

Barnes

Sharpe

Graham

WeUard

Mollis

Fletcher

Heame

Stapleton

Martin

Prett and Sewell

Jenkins

Westley

Bird

Gale

Porter

WeUs

H||l

KniBhencr

Wickham

Walker

Bindy

Styles

Eirtland

Kingston

Eldred

Rnmball

Mildwatcr

LoreU

80

800

200

%d.

200

1200

800

8

GO

300

200

8

IftO

000

600

8

50

800

200

8

50

300

200

8

100

600

400

8

150

900

600

8

100

600

400

8

200

1200

800

8

300

1800

1200

8

150

900

600

8

100

000

400

8

150

900

600

8

800

1800

1200

8

200

1200

800

8

200

1200

800

8

150

000

600

8

50

300

200

8

200

1^00

800

8

100

COO

400

8

100

600

400

8

150

900

600

8

200

1200

800

8

250

1500

1000

8

100

600

400

8

200

1200

*

800

8

50

300

200

8

90

540

360

8

200

1200

800

8

250

1500

1000

8

150

900

600

S

200

1200

800

8

100

600

400

8

100

COO

400

8

50

300

200

8

50

300

200

8

100

COO

400

8

150

000

600

8

100

600

400

8

150

000

600

8

100

6iX)

400

8

50

300

200

8

150

000

000

8

100

600

400

8

50

300

200

8

200

1200

800

8

300

1800

1200

8

200

1200

800

8

150

000

600

8

100

600

400

8

200

1200

800

8

100

600

400

8

200

1200

800

8

250

1500

1000

8

150

000

600

8

100

600

400

8

200

1200

800

8

100

600

400

8

250

1500

1000

8

100

600

400

8

100

600

400

8

150

000

600

8

250

1500

1000

8

60

860

240

8

100

600

400

8

POOB.

457

iSlO

0

0

^157 icr

40

0

0

630 0

10

0

0

157 10

30

0

0

472 10

10

0

0

157 10

10

0

0

167 10

20

0

0

315 0

30

0

0

472 10

20

0

0

315 0

40

0

0

630 0

60

0

0

045 0

30

0

0

472 10

30

0

0

315 0

30

0

0

472 10

CO

0

0

045 0

40

0

0

630 0

40

0

0

630 0

30

0

0

472 10

10

0

0

157 10

40

0

0

C80 0

20

0

0

3U> 0

20

0

0

315 0

30

0

0

472 10

40

0

0

630 0

50

0

0

787 10

20

0

0

315 0

40

0

0

630 0

10

0

6

157 10

18

0

0

283 10

40

0

0

630 0

50

0

0

787 10

30

0

0

472 10

40

0

0

630 0

20

0

0

315 0

20

0

0

315 0

10

0

0

157 10

10

0

0

157 10

20

0

0

315 0

30

0

0

472 10

20

0

0

315 0

30

0

0

472 10

20

0

0

315 0

10

0

0

157 10

30

0

0

472 10

20

0

0

315 0

10

0

0

157 10

40

0

0

630 0

CO

0

0

045 0

40

0

0

630 0

30

0

0

472 10

20

0

0

315 0

40

0

0

630 0

20

0

0

315 0

40

0

0

630 0

50

0

0

787 10

30

0

0

472 10

20

0

0

315 0

40

0

0

630 0

20

0

0

315 0

50

0

0

787 10

20

0

0

315 0

20

0

0

315 0

30

0

0

472 10

50

0

0

787 10

12

0

0

189 0

20

0

0

815 0

IBS
GlulaHMi.

LONDON LdBOtTB 4frj) TME IMTJHUr FOQJf.

Pine ..

jfonk ••

Otbriel

Pftakor..

Gimidey

EMton..

Ewt

Twtltt ,

FoUer

Tij^or.

CHanow

P«AkM

Fl«ekdll

Oook

StowMrt

Cooper

BenUer

HMfoffd

litten

Ifilb

Voy..

GkNrtmm •«..••....

Fionter

BsTieon

Wfllums

Dnper

CUzton

Bobertaon

Coniwall

Price

MiDigsn

West

Wilson

Lawn

Oakes

Joliffo

laley

Treagle

Coleman

Brooker

Dignom

HiUier

Simmonds

Penrose

Jordan

Macey

WiUiams

Palmer

Anderson

George

Hasleton

Willis

Farringdon

Doyle

Lamb

Bolton

Lovelock

Ashfleld

Brailhwaite

Total for Dust and other
Contractors engaged as
Nightmon

150

900

600

8il.

100

000

400

8

200

WOO

800

8

200

1500

1000

8

100

000

400

8

300

1200

800

8

250

1500

1000

8

150

900

600

8

100

000

600

8

100

000

400

8

200

1200

800

8

200

1200

800

8

100

000

400

8

150

000

000

8

150

000

600

8

50

300

200

8

50

900

200

8

100

000

400

8

100

600

400

8

200

1200

800

8

200

1200

BOO

8

100

000

400

8

150

000

600

8

100

000

400

8

50

800

200

8

100

000

400

8

150

900

600

8

250

1500

1000

8

200

1200

800

8

100

600

400

8

50

300

200

8

100

600

400

8

150

900

000

8

200

1200

800

8

250

1600

1000

8

100

600

400

8

100

000

400

8

50

300

200

8

150

900

000

8

100

000

400

8

120

720

480

8

50

300

200

8

200

1200

800

8

200

1-^00

800

8

150

OOO

000

8

150

000

000

8

100

COO

400

8

200

1200

800

8

100

000

400

8

150

000

000

8

200

1200

800

8

100

000

400

8

200

1200

800

8

60

300

200

8

2^0

1500

1000

8

50

300

200

8

100

000

400

8

100

000

400

8

200

1200

800

8

250

1500

1000

8

50

800

200

8

100

600

400

8

27,820

130,100

4

101,240

Sd.

Jt90
20
40
50
20
40
50
30
30
20
40
40
20
30
30
60
10
20
20
40
40
20
30
20
10
20
30
50
40
20
10
20
30
40
50
20
20
10
30
20
24
10
40
40
30
30
20
40
20
30
40
20
40
10
50
10
20
20
40
50
10
20

0 0
0 0

£5500 U 4

Ml% 10
«U 0
030 0
787 10
310 0
830 0
787 10
4»10
472 10
315 0
030 0
600 0
315 9

in JO

472 10
li7 JO
157 10
315 6
3U 9
630 9
030 0
319 9

4ni9

8U 0
157 19
315 9
472 19
787 19
639 0
3U 9
107 19
315 9
4M19
039 0
707 10
315 0
315 0
157 10
472 10
313 0
378 0
157 10
0^10 0
030 0
472 10
472 10
815 0
630 0
815 0
472 10
050 0
315 0
030 0
157 10
787 10
157 It
3U 0
815 0
630 0
787 10
157 K)
815 0

£73,027 10

LONDON LABOUR AND^THE LONDON POOS.

1IASTER-BIIICKLA.TERS ENGAGED AS NIGHTMEX.

ISO

Albon

Danver . . .

Buck

Aldred

Bowler . . .
Deacon . . .
Barrett ...

Elmes

Gray

Emmorton .
Coleman . . .
Belchier . . .

Wade

Ttimer . . .

Sutton

Cutmore . . .
Plowman. . .
BrockwcU ,
Bellamy . . .

Janes

Higgs

Avery

Bailey

Pitman . . .

Hosier

Chambers ,
Turner . . .

Sutton

Phenix . . .
Elsden . . ,

FuUer

Heath...,
Boach ....
Jones ....
Gilbert ..
Green . . . . ,

King

Parker

Kelsey

Palmer . . ,
Sinclair . . .

Peck

Young

"Winter , . .

Welfe

Taber

Kellow ..,
Mercer . . .
Oswell....
Mallett ..,
Handley . .

Bull

Atkinson. . ,
Dennis . . .
Fordham. . ,
^Tigmore. . .

100
150

90
150
150
250
200

00
100
150
100
250
200
100
150
200
150
200
200

50

50
100
150
200
150
150
100
150

80

50
200
200

80
100
250
100
250
150
200
250
100
200

50
100

90

50
100
150
250

90
180
150
200
250
100
150

II**

j"a^5*

?J»

LOMb.

•55<«

coo

400

5«. ea.

900

600

>i

540

360

If

900

000

fi

900

600

>f

1500

1000

It

1200

800

II

MO

360

•1

600

400

19

000

600

II

600

400

II

1500

1000

II

1200

800

n

COO

400

11

900

COO

»

1200

800

II

900

COO

II

1200

800

II

1200

800

)i

300

200

If

800

200

»f

600

400

91

900

COO

tt

1200

800

II

900

600

II

900

COO

COO

400

fl

900

600

480

820

ft

800*

200

1200

800

It

1200

800

480

320

000

400

9>

1500

1000

II

000

400

1500

1000

000

COO

1200

800

1500

1000

000

400

1200

800

300

200

H

600

400

l»

640

300

300

200

tf

600

400

900

600

tt

1500

looo

540

360

f*

1080

720

ff

900

COO

ft

1200

800

1500

1000

600

400

tf

900

000

tf

12 10
18 15
11 5
18 15
18 15
81 5
25 0

11 5
14 10
18 15

12 10 0
81 5 0
25 0
12 10
18 15
25 0
18 15
25 0
25 0

0 5

0 5
12 10
18 15
25 0
18 15
18 15
12 10
18 15
10 0

0
25
25
10

5

0

0

0
12 10
81 5
12 10
81 5
IH 15
25 0
31 5
12 10
25 0
0 5
12 10

11 5
0 5

12 10
18 15
81 5

11 5
22 10
18 15
25 0 0
81 5 0

12 10 0
18 15 0

£ «.

315 0
472 10
283 10
472 10
472 10
787 10
680 0
283 10
315 0
472 10
814> 0
787 0
COO 0
815 0
472 10
080 0
472 10
080 0
0tK> 0
157 10
157 10
315 0
472 10
C80 0
472 10
472 19
815 0
472 10
252 0
157 10
080 0
630 0
252 0
815 0
787 10
315 0
787 10
472 10
630 0
787 n
315 0
080 0
157 10
815 0
288 10
157 10
315 0
472 10
787 10
283 10
567 0
472 10
630 0
787 10
315 0
472 10

LONJ)ON LABOVR JN9 TMS LONDON ^OOMU

Mm

Jimat

Wilb ,

Twnfflur •••••• •

TcUqr !!!!!!

fti»alifn— t ,,,,,,,,,,,,

Xmj

lafemofB ••••••••«•••

Oakhaia ,

Budd , ,.!!!. '

X«rid«t

Pwiin • •••«••••

TImiiim «

Xbote

BeiVM «

Fttcwm ,

StoUay

Ckmnew

Hovd

Oming ,....

Gilbert

Outer

Gleardan

B^faing

Dqhii ,,,,,,,,,,,,
HoweU V.V.

FlUMJ. ••••

Avdber

Hart ,

Cole

ElMS

HIntoQ ;

'Wleemea

Tepner

Unwin

Treh«me

Hayenny

Williams

Plant

linfleld

Morris

Jenkioa

Buck

Hadnutt

Caming

Douglas

Hogden

M'Currey

Wame

Whiteohurch

Sterenson

Isard

Jones . ,

Bntley

Priohard

Watts

Woodcock ,,..,

Osbom ,

Morland •

Brown ,

Hughes

Total for Master.Brick

layers engaged as

Nightmen

800

1800

1900

Ot.ea.

487 10

4^ 0

MO

1000

1660

81 A

787 10

100

000

466

M

19 10

.815 0

aoo

1800

1960

N

87 10

015 0

180

1060

790

1*

99 10

067 6

100

600

466

!•

19 10

815 0

00

800

960

••

6 0

157 10

100

000

466

H

19 10

815 0

IflO

000

660

1*

18 10

479 10

800

1000

1006

ft

81 0

787 10

SUK)

1000

1660

Sf

81 0

787 10

100

000

406

t»

19 10

815 0

150

000

006

!•

18 10

479 10

100

000

606

ft

18 10

479 10

800

1800

I960

It

87 10

045 0

100

000

606

••

18 10

479 16

200

vno

666

Iff

90 0

060 0

100

000

466

It

19 10

015 0

00

800

900

!•

6 0

157 10

200

1000

1000

m

81 0

787 16

100

000

406

n

19 10

815 6

800

1800

1260

0

87 10

045 6

100

900

600

0

18 10

749 16

200

1000

)000

m

81 1»

787 16

2oa

1900

800

' 1*

20 0

636 6

00

800

200

n

0 0

107 16

100

000

400

!•

12 10

815 6

100

•00

400

n

19 10

815 6

100

600

400

If

19 10

615 6

250

1000

1000

It

81 0

787 16

800

1800

1900

•t

87 10

045 0

100

600

400

|i

19 10

815 6

200

1000

.1000

t»

81 0

787 10

100

600

400

|i

19 10

810 0

150

900

600

w

18 15

479 10

200

1900

800

ff

25 0

680 0

250

1000

1000

n

31 5

787 10

SCO

1800

1200

ft

37 10

045 0

50

300

200

M

6 5

0

157 10

100

000

400

ft

12 10

0

315 0

200

1200

800

t*

25 0

0

630 0

250

1500

1000

ft

31 5

0

787 10

150

000

600

ti

18 15

0

472 10

son

1800

1200

1)

37 10

0

045 0

200

1200

800

• »

25 0

0

030 0

150

000

GOO

•1

18 15

0

472 10

200

1200

800

»i

25 0

0

630 0

100

COO

400

»i

12 10

0

815 0

800

1800

1200

>i

37 10

0

045 0

800

1800

1200

11

37 10

0

045 0

50

800

200

ft

6 5

0

157 10

200

1200

800

n

25 0

0-

030 0

150

000

000

»»

18 15

0

472 10

800

1800

1200

11

37 10

0

045 0

250

1500

1000

If

31 5

0

787 10

100

000

400

ff

12 10

0

815 0

200

1200

800

t)

25 0

0

630 0

250

1500

1000

ff

31 5

0

787 10

150

000

600

»>

18 15

0

472 10

800

1800

1200

ff

37 10

0

045 0

250

1500

1000

ft

31 5

0

787 10

800

1800

1200

ft

37 10

0

045 0

150

000

600

»

18 15

0

472 10

19,880

09,400

4

58,520

5f.

^^2,480

0

JS52.185 0

THE ONE-LEGGED SWEEPEB AT CHANCEBT-LANB.

IFrmn a Photograph.}

Page 488.

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

SUMMABY OF THE ABO^'E TABLE.

461

HASTBB-SWEEPS FMPLOTED
AS NIGHTHEN IS

Total Amonnt
mid to Master-
Nighttnuu during
the Yonr &>r cnip-
tgriug Ccacpoola.

Kensington

Chelsea

"Westminster

St. Martin's

Marylebone

Paddington

Hampstead

latington

St Pancras ^,

Hackney

St. Giles's and St. George's,
Bloomsbury

Strand

Holbom

Glerkcnwell

St. Luke's

East London

West Lao don

Loudon, City

Shorediich . ,

Betlinal- green ,

Wbitecbftpei

St. George'fl^in-thc-East

Stepney

Poplar

St. OlftTre s, St* Saviour's, and
SL Geoi^'s, South wark ..

Bermomlsey

Wftl worth imd Newington . .

LamWth

Chrii^tchurch, Lara bet h ....

Wmids^wmih nud Buttei-aea..

Ttotherhitlic

Greenwich and Deptford ....

Woolwich

Lewishom

Total for Sweeps employed as
Kighim^n

Total for Dust mid other Con.
tjactori employed as Night-
men

To t4iil for B (icldflj e t^ employed
AS Nightmen

Grots Total

4
8
0
4
0
8
2
4
13
5

11
4
4
5
5
6
4
5
7
5
5
8
G
4

10
6
8

10
0
5
0
0
0
2

214

188
119

521

48
140
180

84
15ft
107

\Q

82
220

89

172
80
74
78
68
92
64
88
95
68
00

152
80
48

157
00
71
01
58
43
54
04
82
30

2,092

27,820

10,880

50,092

Loads.

240

700

000

170

775

535

80

' 410

1,130

445

800
150
370
890
840
460
320
440
475
340
380
700
400
240

785
300
355
455
200
215
270
470
410
150

14,960

180.000
69,400

253,960

diS:4

3&4

3

8

3 .I- 4

3

3

3

3&4

3&4

3X4

3

3 Jt4

3 &4

3<t'4

3iV4

3&4

8&4

d<l'4

8d;4

3

3&4

8

3

3

3

3d;4

3

3

3&4

d<S:4

3<&:4

3&4

3ik4

4
4

3&4

Penco.

6&7

0 A7

0

0

C&7

0

0

0

C.t7

6 &7

0&7
0

0&7

0&7

0 A' 7

0&7

C&7

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0<!1'7

0

0

0

0&7

0

0

0&7

8
5«. a night

£ «. cf.
120 0 0
050 0
400 0

85 0
387 10
207 10

40 0
205 0
505 0
222 10

430 0

75 0

185 0
105

170 0

230 0

100 0

220 0

237 10

170 0

105 0

380 0

200 0

120 0

802 10
150 0
177 10
227 10
145 0
107 10
135 0
235 0
205 0
75 0

Qd. 7d. ic

8if.perld.

&6». per

sight.

0

0

0

0 0

7,460 0 0

72,027 0 0
52.185 0 0

131,092 10 0

bOSDOlt tABOCB AND THE JMnXOf POO*,

n

ft i

SS9

^U

111

4 a^ 9 f* 9 9 A

k < • t < <

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1

t t ■ £ Its

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s

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s i I i i I ! i i s
3 i : i ! n i i s

= 1*

: I M I i ;
I I I I Ml

^ I \

: s : £ I

lint

J I t : I

^SS '^S! SIISH!SS3«HSS 4M&S

S = £ * 1 S"

41444
!§§§§

I

ilUil

14444^
§l§§l§

M i i I I z >l^ij= 1,tt:E?££ B * ' Sti

s§§ii|

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ill if

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44

I -:Bi|

If

«J^5 t J i J :
* o ^ : : I 1

Sillini

flijil

a:||£.

lilill

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOE.

403

t

I

9

1

O

1

Iff

I

11 M

iJ 1 1 1 1 L..-^ I i! I

i

I. t

III

il

24

«1

1

If

lis

eosss
33,g

eoooeeoo o ooooooeooo ooooooooo
oooooooo o e oeooo ooo««"Oo oooeo

ii§ii§ii § §if§i§iiiii§i§§§ii

o oooeooooo^o
o lotoooocoono

i -§i§|8|i§

okMt*ora

•3

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a

s5 - « * = "

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= «i

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e

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lit

4 'si

s »sa5.

11

:ltM

%

n

! ! !

S2I25S2 S

'3 1 f

i % %

J|||||||||S||8||88i

§ i§§§§§iii§|§i§i§i§

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■« 444^l =1 =
s g|§§§ §

3-

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-III

II

ill

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tililiiili

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Bllf 5

A IlillJii M

.ZOMJXm LdBOVM JUm THE LONDOW POOM.

Curioiii and ample as Uiis Table of Be toe is
— ono, moreover, peribetly original—it is not
sufficient, by the mere range of figures, to
eonvey to tne mind of the reader a fiill eom-
preheosion of the nAiifled Tastness of the
Seoond-Hand trade <rfthe metropoHa. Indeed
tables sre for refenaee mqra than for the
euireni information to be T&slded by a his-
tory or a narfsliYe.

I will, therefore, oAr a few esplanalioos in
elucidation, as it irere^ of tha tabnlar return.

I most, as indeed I ham done in the aoeom-
panyiaft nmitks, depart from the order of the
details of the table to point out, in the first
in8tanea,thepartienlsrsofthe greaSaat of the
Second-Hand trades — that in Clothing. In
this table the reader will find included every
indispensable artaela of man's, woman's, and
child's apparsl, aa wdl as those articles whieh
add totfca:4iniament or comfort of the person
of the wearer; such as boas and victorines for
the use of one sex, and dressing-gowns for the
use of the other. The articles used to pro-
tect us Uram the rain, or the fcoo-powernil roya
of the son, are also included — umbrellas and
parasola. The whole of these articles exceed,
when taken in round numbers, twelve millions
and a quarter, and that reckoning the ** jMiirs,"
as in boots and shoes, &c., as but one article.
This, stiU pursuing the round-number system,
would supply nearly Jim artides of reftise
upiMrel to every man, woman, and ohild in this,
the greatest metropolis of the world.

Iwiilputthis matter in another light There
are about 85,000 Jews in England, n^uly half of
whom reside in the metropolis. 12,000, it is
further stated on good authority, reside within
the City of London. No'tv at one time the
trade in old clotht'S was almost entirely in the
hands of tho City Jews, the oUiei-s prosecut-
ing the same calling in different parts of
London having boon ** Wardrobe Dealers,"
chifclly women, (who had not unfrequently
been tho servants of the aristocracy) ; and
even those wardrobe dealers sold mnch tliat was
worn, and (as one old clothes- dealer told me)
mucli that was " not, for their fine customers,
because the fashion had gone by," to the " Old
Clo " Jeu-s, or to those to whom the sti-eet-
buyers carried tlieir stock, and who were able
to purchase on a larger scsle than the general
itin?raut3. Now, supposing that even one
twelfth of thes3 12,000 Israelites were en-
gaged in the old-clothes trade (which is far
beyond the mark), each man would have
ttccive hundred and twenty-five articles to dis-
pose of yearly, all second-hand !

Perhaps the most curious trade is thai in
waste paper, or as it is called by the street col-
lectors, in " waste," comprising every kind of
used or useless periodical, and books in all
tongues. I may coll the attention of my read-
ers, byway of illustrating the extent of this bust*
ness in what is proverbially reftise *'WBste pa-
per," to their experienee of the penny postage.
Three or Ibiir shoots of note paper, aeocttding to

the stouter or thinaer teztnra, and an emrdope
with a seal or a ^atinoQa and stawpad &Btsn-
ing, will not exeaadhalf-an-onsoe, aad is ev-
▼eyed to the OilEBm and Uia ftntlMr iska of
Shetland, the Osbndv, tha ScHlj and Chan-
nel Islands, the klaa of AeUH MsdOspe Ck«,
off the western vnd aontlicm oiaato of lie.
land, or indeed to andfrons liie
pointo of the United
what diBtano^ pmlded the
within the United ~~'
Theweigbtof

diapoaedof to tba steaat eoUeaCdisv or
bujrar8,is l,387,7d0 Ibi. Wera titfa
asImajeaUit,fbr H amnpilaea 1M» Mm
yeady, to be diatdbatod in halCeonfla lslte%
it would supply matufl^, as raqpeete weigki;
for Jwri§-fimr atinioNS, seoea knmdrtd mmdimatf'
wt^ f fcSMwad, fmr kmnlred amd lUr^lrtm
on bosineai, lora, or ftiandsliip*

I will next direct attention to what m^ lib
by peihaps not orer-straiaing a iigm of
speech, called ** the enunba irtueh ikU torn
the rich man's table;* or, aeeordlBg to the
quality of the eommodity of retea, of tfie
tahlea of the eampmrmtioeljf richy md thatdova
to a low degree A tlie scale. These avs no^
however, unimpropriated crumbs, to be sw^t
away uncared for; bat are oljects of ksoi
trafllc and bargains between the
their servants and theindefiskiga]
Amonff them are sudi things aa
and other wine bottles, porter and ale
and, induding the establiahmsati of all tibs
rich and the comparative rich, JatAenpSte^
dripping, hog-wash, hare-sldn9,and iea-lesvss.
Lastly oome the very lowest grades of the
street-folk — ihe finders; men who wiU quaird,
and have been seen to quarrel, with a hongiy
cur for a street-found bone ; not to pick or
gnaw, although Engine Suo has seen that
done in Paris; and I once, veiy eariy (m t
summer's looming, saw some apparently house-
lei^s Irish children contend with a dog and
wiUi each other lor bones thrown out of a
house in Iving William-street, City — as if after
a very late supper — not to pick or gnaw, I was
saying, hut to sell for manure. Some of tbese
finders have "seen better days;" others, in
intellect, are little elevated above the animals
whoso Ixmes they gather, or whose ontare
(« pure ** ), they scrape into their baskets.

I do not know that the other articles in tbe
arrangement of the table of street refuse, Soc^ \
requu*o any further comment. Broken xnettl, |
<fec., can only be disposed of according to its
quality or weight, and I havo lately shown tba
extent of the trade in such refiise as street-
sweepings, soot, and night-soil.

The gross total, or average yearly money
value, is 1^00,^92/. tat the seoond-hand com-
modities I have described in the foregoing
pages; or as something like a w;i>;iiimn is
given, both as to the number of the goods
and the price, we may fiurly pat this tolu sts
million ind a half of poando nrfsliiig !

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

465

CROSSING-SWEEPERS.

That portion of the London stroot-folk who j
earn a scanty living by sweeping crossings |
constitute a large class of the Metropolitan
poor. We can scarcely walk along a street of
any extent, or pass through a square of the
least pretensions to "gentility," without meet-
ing one or more of these private scavengers.
Crossing-sweeping seems to be one of those
occupations which are resorted to as an excuse
for begging; and, indeed, as many expressed it
to mo, **it was the last chance loft of obtaining
on honest crust."

The advantages of crossing-sweeping as a
means of livelihood seem to be :

1st, the smollness of the capital required in
order to commence the business ;

2ndly, the excuse the apparent occupation
it affords for soliciting gratuities without being
considered in the light of a street-beggar ;

And drdly, the benefits arising from being
constantly seen in the same place, and thus
exciting tlio sympathy of the neighbouring
householders, till small Aveekly allowances or
'* pensions '' are obtained.

The first curious point in connexion with
this subject is what constitutes the " property^'*
so to speak, in a crossing, or the riyht to sweep a
pathway across a certain thoroughfare. A no-
bleman, whohas been one of her IVI^jesty'sMin-
istcrs, whilst conversing with me on the sub-
ject of crossing-sweepers, expressed to me tlie
curiosity ho felt on the subject, saying that he
hnd noticed some of the sweepers in the same
placo for years. " What wero the rights of
property," he asked, " in such cases, and what
constituted the title that such a man had to
a particular cros^iing? "Why did not the stronger
f;wecper supjdaut the weaker? Could a luan
bequeath a crossing to a son, or present it to
a friend ? llow did ho first obtain the spot? "

The answer is, that crossing-sweepers are,
in a measure, under tlio protection of the
police. If the accommodation afibrded by a
well-swept pathway is evident, the policeman
on that district will protect the original
sweeper of the crossing from the intrusion of
a rivaL I have, indeed, met with instances of
men who, before taking to a crossing, have
asked for and obtained permission of the
police; and one sweeper, who gave me his
statement, had even solicited the authority of
the inhabitants before he applied to the in-
specter at the station-house.

If a crossing have been vacant for some
time, another sweeper may take to it; but
should the original proprietor again make his
appearatice, the officer on duty will generally

re-establish liim. One man to idiom I spoke,
had fixed himself on a oossing which for
years another sweeper liad kept dean on the
Sunday morning only. A dispute ensued; the
one claimant pleading his long Sabbath pos-
session, and the other his continuous every-
day service. The quarrel was referred to the
poUoe, who decided that he who was oftener
on the ground was the rightftil owner; and
the option was given to the former possessor,
Uiat if he would sweep there every day the
crossing should be his.

I believe there is only one crossing in
London which is in the gift of a householder,
and this proprietorship originated in a trades-
man having, at his own expense, caused a
paved footway to be laid down over the Maca-
damized road in front of his shop, so that his
customers might run less chance of dirtying
their boots when they crossed over to give
their orders.

Some bankers, however, keep a crossing-
sweeper, not only to sweep a clean patli for
the "clients" >-isiting tlieir house, but to open
and shut tho doors of the carriages calling at
the house.

Concerning the camr* which had or drive
people to this occupation, they aro various.
People take to crossing-sweeping either on
account of tlieir bodily afflictions, depriving
them of the power of x>erforming ruder work,
or because tho occupation is tho last resource
left open to them of earning a living, nnd
they considered even the scanty sub^istene6
it yields preferable to tliat of the work-
house. The greater proportion of crossing-
sweepers are those who, I'rom some bodily in-
finnity or injury, are prevented from a more
laborious mode of obtaining their living.
Among the bodily infirmities the chief are old
ago, asthma, and rheumatism ; and the in-
juries mostly consist of loss of limbs. Many
of tho rhoumatio sweepers liave been brick-
layers' labourers.

Tho classification of crossing-sweepers is
not very complex. They may be divided into
the casual and the regular.

By the casual I mean snch as pursue the
occupation only on certain days in the week, as,
for instance, those who make their appearance
on tho Sunday morning, as well as the boys
who, broom in hand, travel about the streets,
sweeping before the foot-passengers or stop-
ping an hour at one place, and then, if not
fortunate, moving on to another.

The regular crossing-sweepers are those who
have taken up their posts at the coiners of

' «09 LOKDOX LAIiOlR ASD THE LOSDOK POOR.

! St nets f-r ^qirnr.^"* : nnJ I hnv*? rnot "with some world vere those who had boon longest at
j wl:o lmv<: krpt to iho sumo spot IV'F more than ; tboir posts.

i forty years. I Among them are many who hare been scr-

I The crofisinpr-swcepcrs in the sqnari-*«s may \hux^ until sickness nr accident deprived them
i be reckonc<l among the most furtnnate ^^i tin? " of tli.^ir situations, and nearly all of them have
' class. 'With them the crossing is a kind of . Imd tljoir minds so subdued by affliction, that
! stand, where any one requiring their serxioes \ tlicy have been tamed so as to be incapable of
I knows they may he found. Tho<e swrppors i mischief.

j are oflcn employed by the butlers and seivjmt«* ] The earningt, or rather ** takinpt^ of cross-
in the neighbouring mansions for nmnini? ' ing- sweepers are ditficult to estimate — gener-
errands, posting letters, and ocrn<^ioiinlly h«^lp. I ally speaking — that \^^ to strike the avern^
ingin the packing-up and removal of furniture ' for the entire class. An erroneous idea pre-
or lioxes when the family goes out of town. ! vails that crossing- sweeping is a lucrative cro-
I have met with other sweepers wlio, from \ plojiuent. All whom I have spoken with agree
being known for yoars to the inhnbitHnts, have in saying, that some thirty years back it wns a
at last got to be rearulnrly employed at some ■ gooil living ; but thny bewail piteously the
of the houses to clean knives, boots, windows, ! spirit of the present generation. I have uiot
Ac. ! with some who, in formnr days, took their 3f.

It is not at all an unfVcquent circumstance, | wofkly ; and tliere arc but few I have spokon
howL'ver, for a swot'per to be in recj-ipt of a to who wouhl not, at ono pr-riod, have Cf»n.
weekly sum from some of the inlialatants in ] ^iilereil fittecn shillings a bad week's work.
the district. The cros^ng itself is in thos.« . j^ut now **tho takings'" are ver>-much Tedni't<L
cases hut of little value for chance customers, ' The man who was known to this class as h<iT.
for wi*rc it not for the regular charity fif the in:,' h«*en the most prosperous of all — ^forfr^ra
hou«i4diold»rs, it would h« deserted. Pr«»kon <»Me noMoman alone he received an allowance
victuals and old clothes also form part of a of seven shillings and sixpence weekly— a<-
8we<;pf;r'8 mcaus of liring; nor are the clothe** ■ !-ured mo that twelve sliiUings n-week was the
alwayr4 old ones, for one or two of this class | avenige of his present gains, taking the year
have for years heen in the habit of baring now . rountl: whilst the majority of the sweepers
suits presented to tliem by the neighbours at agree that a shilling is a good day's earnings.

Christinas,

The irregular sweepers mostly consist of
boys anil girls who have furmed themselves

A shilling a-day is the very limit of the
average incomes of the London sweepers, and
this is rather an over than an under calciila-

into a kind of company, and come to an agree- 1 tion; for, although a few of the more fortunate,
mcnt to work together on the same ero>*sings. | who are to be found in the squares or main
Tin- prin«:ipnl n-sort of thrsc is nhout Tnilhl- ' thorouglifnros oroj>po>ite the public buildings,
gnr->.<|n;iro, where they hnvoseizctl upon sonio . may e.-jm th.ir twelve or litU^en shillin?s a-
thno or ffiur cros^iuL"*, which they visit from wock, yet ihero are hniulrcds who are driily t=)
tinii; to time in the course of the dfiy. , he found in th»; by-strcets of the metn-jpoln

(.>ii(' of these gnngs 1 found hM«l nyifiuini.:'! who assert that eiirhtpem'c a-dny is their aver-
its kiiii! and ('aj)iMin, lhout?h Die tiil« s wi p> nge tnkin^r; and, inde.-d, in proof of ihoir
more honorary tlian pri\'iloged. They lui'l juiviriy. tin -y rotor you to the workhouse outho-
frniiM.-d tlioir own hnv , r«-<pecting cuch r.m's iltii--. wlio allow thoni certain quartern-loavi^
right to thn mom-y In- tonk, and liio rO.ttlii iu«' ^ ^^Ol•kly. The old stories of delical*? suppers
to tiif^r laws was cnfon-cl hy tin' str«iiL't]i ol im<l ^tDi-kin^'s full of monoy have in the pre*
thr litth; fraternity. ■ y-mt day no foumlation i»i" truth.

Oiu; or twr» giri-^ whom T quosti<in<'(l. toUl The black orossiiig.swef'i)or, who bt^queathe'l
njo that they mixod up hallad-'-iin^'iTi-: or Imc^- .'>n(i/. to Mi^s "NVaithman, would almost seom
sollini,' with crossiuL'- sweeping, takim.' ti» tin- t«) Ik; the last of the class whoso earnings were
hroom only when the strn-ts vcro w.-t and i nhovo liis p.. ?«iiivo necessities,
muddy. These ehiUlron aro usually srut or.i ' Lastly, conci-ming the numbers belonging to
by their jiarents, and have to cany horn*' at this laiyo class, we may add that it is difficult
in;-'ht thdr earnings. A few of them are i tf) reckon up the number of crossing-sweepers
or|>hans with a lodginL'-house for a home. in London. There are few squares wiihoui a

Taken as a class, cros>ing-swoopers are ! <'oni)le of these pathway scavengers; and in
ani(»ng the most honost of the London p<ior. ■ the more respectable squares, such as Caven-
Tliey all tell you that, without a good chanii*t« r dish or Poitmun, everj* comer has been seiwd
and *Mhc respect of thenoi«:hbourhood," there upon. Again, in the principal thoroughfares,
is not a living to be got out of the hroom. j nearly every street has its crossing and at*
Indeed, those whom I found best-to-do in the ! tendnnt.

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

4(J7

I.— OF THE ADULT CROSSING-
SWEEPERS.

A, The Able-Bodied Sweepers.

The elder portion of the London crossing-
sweepers admit, as we have before said, of
being arranged, for the sake of perspicuity,
into several classes. I shall begin with the
Able-bodied Males; then proceed to the Females
of the same class ; and afterwards deal 'nith
the Able-bodied Irish (male and female), who
take to the London causeways for a living.
This done, I shall then, in due order, take
up the AJUcled or Crippled class ; and finally
treat of the Juveniles belonging to the same
calling.

1. The Abue-Bodied Male Cbossino-
sweepebs.

The "Abistochatic" Cbossino-Sweepeb.

"Billy" is the popular name of the man
who for many years has swept the long
crossing that cuts oflf one comer of Caven-
dish-square, making a '* short cut" from Old
Cavendish-street to the Duke of Portland's
mansion.

Billy is a merry, good-tempered kind of man,
witli a face as red as a love-apple, and cheeks
streaked with little veins.

*' His hair is white, and his eyes are as block
and bright as a terrier's. He can hardly speak
a sentence without finishing it off with a moist
chuckle.

His clothes have that peculiar look which
arises from being often wet through, but still
they are decent, and far above what his class
usually wear. The hat is Ump in the brim,
from being continually touched.

The day when I saw Billy was a wet one, and
he had taken refuge from a shower imder the
Duke of Portland's stone gateway. His tweed
coat, torn and darned, was black about the
shoulders with the rain-drops, and his boots
grey with mud, but, he told me, ** It was no
good tr>'ing to keep clean shoes such a day as
that, 'cause the blacking come off in the
puddles."

Billy is " well up " in the Court Ouide, He
continually stopped in his statement to tell
whom my Lord B. married, or where my Lady
C. had gone to spend the summer, or what was
the title of the Marquis So-and-So's eldest
boy.

Ho was very grateful, moreover, to all who
had assisted him, and would stop looking up at
the ceiling, and God-blessing them all with a
species of religious fervour.

His regret that tlie good old times had passed,
when he made " hats ftall of money," was un-
mistakably sincere ; and when ho had occasion
to allude to them, he alwap deHvered his
opinion upon the late war, calling it ** a-cut-and

run affair,' and saying that it was ** nothing at
all put alongside with the old war, when the
halfpence and silver coin were twice as big and
twenty times more plentiful" than during the
late campaign.

Without the least hesitation he furnished me
with the following particulars of his life and
calling : —

" I was bom in London, in Cavendish-square,
and (ho added, laughing) I ought to have a
title, for I first came into the world at No. 3,
which was Lord Bessborough's then. My
mother went there to do her work, for she
chaired there, and she was took sudden and
couldn't go no further. She couldn't have
chosen a better place, could she ? You see I
was bom in Cavendish-square, and I've toorked
in Cavendish-square — sweeping a crossing — for
now near upon fifty year.

" Until I was nineteen — I'm sixty-nine now
— I used to sell water- creases, but they felled
off and then I dropped it. Both mother and
myself sold water-creases after my Lord Bess-
borough died ; for whilst he lived she wouldn't
leave him not fur nothing.

*' We used to do uncommon well at one time ;
there wasn't nobody about then as tliere is now.
I've sold flowers, too ; they was very good
then ; they was mosUy show carnations and
moss roses, and such-like, but no common
flowers — it wouldn't have done for me to
sell common things at tho houses I used to
goto.

" The reason why I took to a crossing was, I
had an old father and I didn't want him to go
to tho workus. I didn't wish too to do anythiog-
bad myself, and I never would — ^no, sir, for
I've got 08 good a charackter as the first noble-
man in the land, and that's a fine thing, ain't
it? So as water-creases had fell off till they
wasn't a living to me, I had to do summat else
to help me to live.

" I saw the crossing-sweepers in Westminster
making a deal of money, so I thought to my-
self /'// do that, and I fixed upon Cavendish-
square, because, I said to myself, I'm knows
there ; it's where I was bom, and there I set
to work.

" The very first day I was at work I took ten
shillings. I never asked nobody; I only
bowed my head and put my hand to my hat,
and they knowed what it meant.

♦* By jingo, when I took that there I thought
to myself. What a fool I've been to stop at
water-creases !

*' For the first ten year I did uncommon well.
Give me the old-fashioned way; they were
good times then ; I like the old-fashioned way.
Give me the old penny pieces, and then the
eighteen-penny pieces, and the three-shilling
pieces, and the seven-shilling pieces — give me
them, I says. The day the old halijponce and
silver was cried down, that is, the old coin
was called in to change the currency, my
hat wouldn't hold the old silver and half-
pence I was give that afternoon. I had tuck a

40S

LONDOX LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

loU upon my word, Uiey broke my iMxsket. I
didn't kuow the money was altered, but a fish-
monger saya to mo, ' Have you got any old
ailver ?• I said * Yes, Ivo pot a hat full ; " and
then says he, * Take 'cm tlown to Couttscsos
and change 'em.' I went, and I was nearly
8(iueegod to death.

•* That was the first time I was like to bo
killed, but I was ni^h killed again when Queen
CaroHno passed througli Cavendish - square
uft»r her trial. Tln-y took the horses out of
lier con-iage and pulled her along. She kept
a chucking money out of the carriAge, and I
went and scrambled for it, and I got livo-and-
twenty shilHn, but my hand was a nigh smashed
through it ; and, says a friend of mine, before
1 went, * Billy,' says he, * don't you go ; ' and I
was soiTy alter 1 <Ud. Slie was a good wi»mftn,
the was. Tho Yullors, that is, the king's p.irty,
was agin her, and pullc<l u{) tlio paving-stoius
when her funeral passed ; but tlie lilucs was
for her.

'* 1 can remember, too, tlio mob at the time
of the Lord Gastlerrngh riots. They went to
roi'tman-square and broke all the winders in
tho house. They pulled up ull the mils to
purtect theirsolves with. I wont to tho liishop
of Durham's, and hid myself in the conl-d-llar
then. Aly niotlier chaired tliere, too. The
Bishop of Durham and Lord Haroourt opened
their gates and hurrah'd the mob, so tliey had
nothing of theirs touched ; but whether tlioy
did it tlirougli fear or not I can't say. Tlie
mob was ciurj-ing a quartern loaf dipped in
bullock's blood, and when I saw it I thought
it was a man's he;ul; so that fiighteued me,
an 1 I run oil".

" I n iiH.'iiibor, too, wlicu T/uly IV'ml.rokii's
hiv.Hi' was burnt to tho grnuutl. Th:ifs abiuit
I'iu'lilreu year ago. It was vcit liii-ky thij iamily
wa-iil ill town. Tho hous.'k.cpin- uns ji ni/jj
kill" il. and tluy hatl io ^r^'l h« r out ov<r llio
stabler : and wlien her la<lyship heard sli;* wns
all riirlit, she said slio didnt care for tli.^ ijro
since tlio old damo was saved, for she hnd livod
alon^' with the family for many years. No.
blis-i you, sir ! 1 didn't help at the lire ; I'm too
muoh of a coward tn do th.-if.

••All the time the Duke of Portland wns
alive he used to allow me 7*. O*/. a-Mi*ek, whii-li
was l.<. a-day and l.«. Cut. for Sundays. He wjis
a little .•^hi)rt man, and a very pood man he was
too, lor it warnt only mo as he gnvo morK*y to,
but to i)liMity others, lie was tlio best man in
Knj^Mand for tbiit.

"J.ord George Piontinck, ttx>, was a pood
friend to me. He was a great ra^er, he was,
and then he tunioil to bt? member of parliament,
and tlh.'n he made a good mnn they tell me;
but, he never conied over my crossing without
giviij.:: me something, lie was at the comer
of U..lly Street, he was, and he never put foot
(»n my crossing without giving me a sovereign.
l*erliaps he wouldn't cross more tlian once or
iwiiio a montli, but when he conied my way
that was his money. Ah ! he was a nice feller,

he was. When he give it he always put
it in my hand and never let nobody 'see it,
and that's the way I like to have my foe give
me.

" There's Mrs. D , too, a.s lived at No.C ;

she was a good friend of mine, and always
allowed mo a suit of clothes a-jear ; but she's
dead, good lady, now.

" Dr. C "and his lady, they, likewise, was

verj' kind ftiends of mine, and gave me ereir
year clothes, and new shoes, and blankets, aye,
and a bed, too, if I liod wanted it ; bat nov
they are all dead, down to the coachman. Tbe

doctor's old butler, Jlr. K , ho gnrc xne

twenty.fivc shillings the day of the fnnond,
and, says he, * Bill, I'm afraid this will be the
last.' i*oor good fjriends they was all of them,
and I did feel cut up when I sec the hesrse
going olT.

" There was another gentleman, Mr. W.

T , who lives in Harley>street ; he nerer

come by me without giving mo half-a-orown.
He was a real good gentleman ; but I haven't
seen liim for a long time now, and porhapi
he's dead too.

" All my friends is dropping off. I'm fifty.
five, and tliey was men when 1 was a l>oy.
All tho good gentlemen's gone, only the lad
ones stoj).

♦* Another friend of mine is Loni B .

lie always drops mo a shilling when he come
by; and, says he, * You don't know me, bat
I knows you, Billy.' But I do kuow him, for
my mother worked for the family many a
year, and, considering I was bom in the house,
i think to myself, * If I don't know you, why
I ought.' lie's a handsome, stout yi-.un>:
chap, and as nice a goutleiiiJin as anv in tie
land.

" One of tho best frien«ls I had was rrince

E , as li\ed tluive in Chandos-strcet, tUc'

bottom house yonder. I had live soverei^n^
t:ivo me the day as he Wiis mju'ried t"» his
beautiful wife. Don't you reniembor what a
talk there was about her diamonds, sir? Thi-y
say she was kivore.d in 'era. He used to pu:
his hand in his pocket and give me two (t
three sliillings evcrv- time he crossed. He
was a gentleman as was uncommon fond of
the gals, sir. Hed go and t.ilk to all ibe
mnid-servants round abtmt, if they was only
good-bioking. I used to go and ring the hairy
bells for him, and tell the gals to go and
meet him in Chapel -street, God bless him!
I says, ho was a pleasant gentleman, and a
regular good 'un for a bit of fun, and always
looking lively and smiling. I see he's got Ins
old coachman yet, though tho Prince don't
live in England at present, bat his son does,
and he always gives me a half-crown when
he comes by too.

*• I gets a pretty fine lot of Chrietmas boxes,
but nothing like what I had in the old times.

Prince E always gives me half a cn^wn,

and 1 goes to the buuer for it. Pretty near
all my i^iends gives me a box, them as knows

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR,

409^

mc, aod they say, < Here's a Christmas box,
Lilly.'

** Last Christmas-day I took 36«., and that
was pretty fair; but, bless you, in the old
times I've had my hat ftill of money. I tells
you again I've have had as much as 5/. in
old times, all in old silver and halfpence;
that WAH in the old wfir, and not this nm-
away sliabby affiiir.

" P^'cry Simday I have sixpence regular

fi-om Loi*d H , wliether he's in town or

not. I goes and fetches it. Mrs. D , of

Harley-street, she gives me a shilling every
Sunday when she's in town ; and the parents
as knows mo give halfpence to their little girls
to give me. Some of the litUe ladies says,
* Here, that will do you good.' No, if s only
pennies (for sixpences is out of fashion);
and tlionk God for the coppers, though they
arc little.

" I generally, when the people's out of town,
take about 25. or 2^. (Sd. on the Sunday. Last
Sunday I only took l5. 3rf., but then, you see,
it come on to min and I didn't stop. When
the town's full three people alone gives mo
more than that. In the season I take 65. safe
on a Sunday, or perhaps Oa. — for you see it's
all like a lottery.

" I should like you to mention Lady Mild-
may in Grosvenor-square, sir, "SVIienevcr I
goes to see her — but you know I don't go
often — I'm safe for fi*., and at Chiistmas I
have my regular salary, a guinea. She's a
very old lady, and I've knowed her for many
and many years. When I goes to my lady
slio always comes out to speak to mc at the
door, and says she, * Oh, 'tis "Willy I and how
do you do, Willy?' and she always shakes
hands with mo and laughs away. Ah 1 she's
^ a good kind creetur' ; there's no prido in her
whatsumever — and she never sacks her ser-
vants.

" My crossing has been a good living to me
and mine. It's kept the whole of us. Ah 1
in the old time I dare say I've made as much
as 3/. a week reg'lar by it Besides, I used
to have lots of broken vittals, and I can tell
you I know'd where to take *em to. Ah 1 I've
had as much food as I could carry away, and
reg'lar good stuff — chicken, and some things
I couldn't guess the name of, they was so
Frenchified. When the fam'lies is in town I
gets a good lot of food given me, but you
know when the nobility and gentlemen are
away the servants is on board wages, and cuss
them board wages, I says.

** I buried my father and mother as a son
onght to. Mother was seventy-three and
father was sixty-five, — good round ages, aint
they, sir? I shall never live to be that. They
are lying in St. John's Wood cemetery along
with many of my brothers and sisters, which
I have buried as well. Pve only two brothers
living now ; and, poor fellows, they're not very
well to do. It cost me a good bit of money.
I pay 2«. 6(f. a-year for keeping up the graves

No. LIII.

of each of my parents, and Ia 2*^ for my
brothers.

" There was the Earl of Gakisborough as I
should like yon to mention as well, please sir.
Pie lived in Cbandos-street, and was a par-
ticulhr nice man and very religious. He al-
ways gave me a shilling and a ti*act. Well,
you see, I did often read tlio tract ; they wag
all religious, and about where your souls was
to go to — very good, you know, what there
was, very good ; and he used to buy 'em whole-
sale at a little shop, comer of High-street^
Marrabun. He was a very good, kind gentle-
man, and gave away such a deal of money
that he got reg'lar known, and the little beggar
girls follcred him at such a rate that he was
at last forced to ride about in a cab to get
away from 'em. He's many a timo said to
me, when he's stopped to give me my shilling,

* Billy, is any of 'em a folleiing me ?' He was
safe to give to every body as asked him, but
you see it worried his soul out — and it was a
kind soul, too — to be follercd about by a mob.

" When all the fam'lies is in town I has 14j.
a- week reg'lar as clock-work from my friends
as lives round the square, and when they're
away I don't got Crf. a-day, and sometimes I
don't get Id. a- day, and that's less. You

see some of 'em, like my Lord B , is out

eight montlis in tlie year; and some of 'em,

such as my Lord H , is only three. Then

Mrs. D ', she's away three months, and she

always gives 1». a- week rcg lar when she's up
in London.

*• I don't take 4ts. a-week on the crossing.
Ah ! I wish you'd give me 1». for what I take.
No, I make up by going of eiTands. I runs
for the fam'lies, and the servants, and any of
'em. Sometimes thoy sends me to a banker's
with a cheque. Bless you ! they'd trust me
with anythink, if it was a hat full. I've had
a lot of money trusted to me at times. At
one time I had as much as 83/. to caiTy for
tlio Duke of Portland.

" Aye, that was a go — that was ! You see
the hall-porter had had it give to him to carry
to the bank, and ho gets me to do it for him ;
but the vallct hoerd of it, so he wanted to
have a bit of fun, and he wanted to put the
haB-porter in a funk. I met the vaUet in
Holbom, and says he, ' Bill, I want to have
a lark,' so he kept me back, and I did not get
back till one o'clock. The hall-porter ofiered
5/. reword for me, and sends the police ; but
Mr. Freebrother, Lord George's wallet, he
says, * I'll mfdce it all right, Billy.' They sent
up to my poor old people, and says father,

* Billy wouldn't rob anybody of a nightcap,
much more 80/.* I met the pohceman in
Holbom, and says he, * I want you, Billy,' and
says I, * All right, here I am.' When I got
home the hall-porter, says he, * Oh, I am a dead
man ; where's the money ?' and says I, * It's
lost.' * Oh I it's the Duke's, not mine,' says he.
Then I pulls it out ; and says the porter, * It's

I a lark of Freebrotlier's.' So he gave me 2/.

^^

470

LONDON LABOUR AND WBS LONDON POOD.

to make H all right That iwu a game, and
the hall.porter, aaja he, 'I reallj thought
Ton irai mme, Bilbr;* hat, says I, * If ereir.
hodj earned as good a ihee as I do, oTeryhod j
'woidd he as honest as any in CaTendish-
sqnare.'

«* I had another lark at the Bishop of Dor-
ham's. I was a ftleantng the kniTes, and a
twellmohaman, with a green>haiae hag, oome
down the stepe, and says he to me, * Is Mr.
Lewis, the hatler, in?— he'd got tiie name
off qiike pat * No,' says I, 'he's up-stairs; '
then says he, *Can i step into the pan-
trwf ' Oh, yes,* says I, and shows him in.
Bbss yon I he was so wdl-dressed, I thought
he was a master-shoemaker or something;
hot as all the plate was there, thinks I, 111 just
lock the door to make safe. So I ftstens him
in tighti and kee^ him there tQl Mr. Lewis
comes. No, he didn't take none of the plate,
for Mr. Lewis oome down, and then, as he
didnt know nothink about him, we had in a
pdioeman, when we finds his bag was staffed
with silver tea-pots and all sorts of things
from my Lord Musgrave's. Says Mr. Lewis,
•Tou did ^te light, Billy.' It wasn't a likely
thing I waa gojnff to let anybody into a pantiy

** There was another chap who had mngged
alotofplate. He was an old man, and had a
hag eiammed with silver, and was a euttinff
away, with lots of people after him. So I
puts my broom across his legs and tumbles
him, and when he got up he cut away and
loft the bag. Ah! I*ve seen a good many
games in my time — that I have. The butler
of the house the plate had been stole from
give mo 21. for doing him that turn.

*' Once a gentleman called mo, and saj-s he,
*My man, how long have you been in iliis
square?' Says I, 'I'm Billy, and been here
a'most all my life.' Then ho says, * Can I
trust you to toko a cheque to Scott, tlio banker? '
and I answers, * That's as you like,' for I
wasn't going to press him. It was a heavy
cheque, for Mr. Scott, as knows me well —
aye, well, ho do — says * Billy, I can't give
you all in notes, you must stop a bit.' It
nearly filled the bag I had with me. I took
it all safe back, and says ho, * Ah ! I knowed
it would be all right,' and he give me a
half-sovereign. I should like you to put
these things down, 'cos it's a fine thing for
my charackter, and I can show my face with
any man for being honest, that's one good
thing.

" I pays 'is. a-week for two rooms, one up
and one down, for I couldn't live in one room.
I come to work always near eight o'clock, for
you see it takes me some time to clean the

knives and boots at Lord B 's. I get

sometimes Is, and sometimes Is. Qd, a-week
for doing that, and glad I am to have it It's
only for the servants I does it, not for the
quality.

•* yrUen I does anythink for the servants, it's

either cleaning boots and kntvea, or psttiBg
letters in the post-^thai:^ it-«Dytfiink of that
kind. They ffiirea me lostidnt they ean» liL
or 3^ orhatfapintof besru^wath^lM'tat
got aqy oovpera.

MSometimea I seli a ftv left^iff dothssp
bat twy seULom. 1 hsM two salts ».year gif»
me zesflar, and I goes to a flrstnto tailor ftr
'em, though they don*t make the prime — oT
ooarse not, yet thei^ ^r«iy good. Now this
ooat I liked rm well wbm, it waa new, it was
so dean and tidy. No, tlie tailor dent ahow
me the pattern-books and that tort of tUng:
he knows whatfa wanted. I woa*t neirer haie
none of them washing dtuik hreediea; thsCli
the only thhur aa I xeftises, and the taiks
knows that I looks veiy niee allsr fihristias^
I can tell yoa, and Pve alwaya got a good ti^f
"■ db]e»r

suit for Sundays, and God I
'em to me.

■*ETezy Sunday I gets ahot jUaiMratLoM

B 's, whether he's oat of town or in ta«^

— thatrs sommat I gets bits, too^ glM |M^
so that I don't boy a dinner, no, not pnea >
week. I pays 4f. a-week reiiti and I dan mV
my food, mondng and nighti eoalB wmtklL
a-day — aye, Tm sore it ooea, nwrniiig attl-
night At present I dont make IMk a-wed^
bat take the year round, one veskwith an- .
other, it mk^t oome to Ua. or Ida. mmnkt
gets. Yes, 111 own to that

'* Ohiistmas ismy best time ; then I gets men
than II. a-week: now I dont take dc s-week
on my crossing. Mon/s the time Tre made
my breakfast on a pen'orth of coffee and a
halfpenny slice of bread and butter. "What
do you think of that ?

** Wet weather does all the harm to me.
People, you seo, don't like to come out I
tliiuk I'vo got the best side of the square, and
you see my crossing is a long one, and saves
people a deal of ground, for it outs off the
comer. It used to bo a famous crossing in
its time — hah ! but that's gone.

" I always uses what Uiey calls the brush-
brooms; tliat's them with a flat heed like
a house-broom. I can't abide them othen;
they don't look well, and thoy wears out
ten times as quick as mine. I general buys
the eights, that's lOd, a-piece, and finds my
own handles. A broom won't last me more
than a fortnight, it's such a long crossing ;
but when it was paved, afore Uiis mucky-
dam (macadamising) was turned up, a broom
would last me a full three months. I cant
abide this muckydam — can you, sir? it's
sloppy stuff, and goes so bad in holes. Give
me the good solid stones as used to be.

** I does a good business round the square
when the snow 's on the ground. I generd
does each house at so much a-week whilst
it snows. Hardwicks give me a shilling.
I does only my side, and that next Ox-
ford-street. I dont go to the others, un-
less somebody oomes and orders me— for
fltdr play is fair play — and they belongs to

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

471

the other sweepers. I does my part and they
does theirs.

** It's seldom as I has a shop to sweep out,
find I don't do nothink with shutters. I'm
getting too old now for to he called in to carry
boxes up gentlemen's houses, but when I
was young I found plenty to do that way.
There's a man at the comer of Chondos.
«treet, and he does the most of that kind of
work."

The Bearded Ceossino-Sweepeb at the
Exchange.

Since the destruction by fire of the Royal
Exchange in 1838, there has been added to the
curiosities of Cornhill a thickset, sturdy, and
hirsute crossing-sweeper — a man who is as
•civil by habit as he is independent by nature.
He has a long flowing beard, grey as wood
-smoke, and a pair of fierce moustaches, giving
a patriarchal air of importance to a marked
and observant face, which often serves as a
painter's model. After half-an-hour's conver-
sation, you are forced to admit that his looks
do not all belie him, and that the old mariner
(for such was his profession formerly) is worthy
in some measure of his beard.

He wears an old felt hat — very battered and
discoloured ; around his neck, which is bared
tn accordance with sailor custom, he has a
thick blue cotton neckerchief tied in a sailor's
knot; his long iron-grey beard is accompa-
nied by a healthy and almost ruddy face. He
stands against the post all day, saying no-
thing, and taking what he can get without
solicitation.

When I first spoke to him, he wanted to
know to what purpose I intended applying
the information that he was prepared to af-
ford, and it was not until I agreed to walk
with him as far as St Mary-Axe that I
-was enabled to obtain his statement, as fol-
lows : —

*' I've had this crossing ever since '88. The
Exchange was burnt down in that year. Why,
sir, I was wandering a))out trying to get a
crust, and it was veiy sloppy, so I took and
got a broom ; and while I kept a clean cross-
ing, I used to get ha'pence and pence. I got
A dockman's wages — that's half-a-crown a-day ;
^sometimes only a shilling, and sometimes
anore. I have taken a crown — but that's very
rare. The best customers I had is dead. I
.nsed to make a good Christmas, but I don't
•nojr. I have taken a pound or thirty shillings
Ihen in the old times.

^ I smoke, sir ; I wiU have tobacco, if I
can't get grub. My old woman takes cares
that I have tobacco.

*' I have been a sailor, and the first ship as
jBver I was in was the Old Colossus, 74, but
we was only cruising about the Channel Uien,
and took two prizes. I went abou^ the Old
iBemewa gnardship — we were turned over to

her — and from her I was drafted over to the
Escramander frigate. We went out chasing
Boney, but he gived himself up to the Old
Impregnable. I was at the taking of Algiers,
in 1810, in the Superb. I was in the Boch-
fort, 74, up the Mediterranean (they call it up
the Mediterranean, but it was the Malta sta-
tion) three years, ten months, and twenty
days, until the ship was paid ofil

** 'Then I went to work at the Dockyard.
I had a misfortune soon after that. I fell out
of a garret window, three stories high, and
tliat kept me from going to the Docks again.
I lost all my top teeth by that fall. I've got a
scar here, one on my chin ; but I wam't in the
hospital more than two weeks.

** I was afeard of being taken up solicitin'
charity, and I knew that sweeping was a safe
game ; they couldn't take me up for sweeping
a crossing.

" Sometimes I get insulted, only in words ;
sometimes I get chafi'ed by sober people.
Drunken men I don't care for; I never listen
to 'em, unless they handle me, and then, al-
though I am sixty- three this very day, sir, I
think I could show them something. I do
carry my age well ; and if you could ha' seen
how I have lived this last winter through,
sometimes one pound of bread between two
of us, you'd say I was a strong man to be as I
am.

'* Those who think that sweepin' a crossing
is idle work, make a great mistake. In wet
weather, the traffic that makes it gets sloppy
as soon as it's cleaned. Cabs, and 'busses,
and carriages continually going over the cross-
ing must scatter the mud on it, and you must
look precious sharp to keep it clean ; but when
I once get in the road, I never jump out of it
I keeps my eye both ways, and if I gets in too
close quarters, I slips round the wheels. I've
had them almost touch me.

" No, sir, I never got knocked down. In
foggy weather, of course, it's no use sweeping
at all.

** Parcels 1 it's very few parcels I get to carry
now; I don't think I get a parcel to carry once
in a month: there's 'busses and railways so
cheap. A man would charge as much for a
distance as a cab would take them.

'* I don't come to the same crossing on
Sundays ; I go to the comer of Finch-lane.
As to regular customers, I've none — to say
regular; some give me sixpence now and
then. All those who used to give me regular
are dead.

" I was a-bed when the Exchange was burnt
down.

** I have had this beard five years. I grew
it to sit to artists when I got the chance ; but
it don't pay expenses — ^for I have to walk four
or five miles, and only get a shilling an hour :
besides, I'm often kept nearly two hours, and
I get nothing for going and nothing for coming,
but just for the time I am there.

** Afore I wore it, I had a pair of large whis-

as

MA^VDOM fuaouA ANm TOE iM^DW ^oom.

k/aoL I iwpt to afwiflfiiwm tfaen, tm ■ttiit,
«Dd he dU pif me wdL He advked ma to
0row moetanhm end the bewd, but he hMnt
4M>ptognedme nioe*

'*Th(nroell me*CttdJjusk'oii the erossing^
that^elltheyeeUme. Igotmorechefflhmi
the bogw then mxf one else. " Thqr only eagr,
• Wl^ doB't 70B get ahttvedr' but X teke bo
notice on 'em.

•* Old Bill, in Lombard Btieet! I knowi him ;
he need to make a good diing of it, bat I don't
think he makee rnneh now.

** Hy wife — I am macned, air'^doeent do
anyUung. IUveinalodging-hoiiae,andIiMij
Uiree ahillingfl a-week.

"* I tell you what we haa, now, when I go
home. We has a pound of bread, a qnartor of
an ounoe of tea, and pech^ts a red herring.

** I've had a wealmess in my legs for two
year; the veins comes down, but I keep a
bandage in my podket, and when I ibels 'em
■ ooming down, I puts the bandage on till the
veins goes up again--4t'8 through being on my
legs 80 long (becanse I had veiy strong legs
when young) and want of oood food. When
yoB oidy h«re a bit of bread and a cup of tea
-—no meat, no vegetables — you find it out;
but I'm as upright as a dart, and as lissom as
ever I was.

** I gives threepence for my brooms. I
wears out three in a week in the wet weather.
I always lean very hord on my broom, 'speci-
ally wheu the mud is sticky* as it is after the
roads is watered. I am very particular about
my brooms; I gives 'em away to bo burned
wliL-n many ouother would use them."

thirty-two years in London. XeanaatnaMd
a ehaneleras any oaa inprwhaii^ weaHi God;
ftar aa to drankatda, jrM aU lfcafc,X waa mm

The SwEEPEtt in PoRTauN Squ.\jie, who got
Pekmissiom raoii the Pojice.

A WILD-LOOKING man, with lonp strag«(ling
grey hair, which stood out from his h(»ft(l as if
be brushed it the wronf; way; and whiskers
BO thick and curling that tlioy reminded one
of the wool round a sheep's facC) gave me the
accompanying liistory.

He was very fond of making use of the term
••honest crust," and each time he did so,
he, Irish-like, ]>ronounced it ** currust." He
seemed a kind-hearted, innocent creature,
half scared by want and old a^e.

** I'm blest if I can tell which is Uio best
crossing in London ; but mine ain't no great
shakes, for I don't tixke three Bhilliog a^week
not with persons going across, take one week
with another ; but I thought I could get a ho-
nest currust (crnst) at it, for I've got a crip-
pled hand, wliich corned of its own accord,
and I was in St. George's Hospital seven
weeks. When I comed out it was a cripple
with me, and I thought tlie crossing was
better than going into the workhouse — for I
likes my liU'rty.

"I've been on this crossing since last
Christmas was s twelvemonth. Before that I

efihen. I

a-veek,8nd 1

hadtpentyi

ling. Bcioklsgraal

howa thegr wochi hflyondian, :

bricklsyer's dsy.

** I waa among the lime^ and the send* end
the brieks, and Oteai mj hand eome like this
(he held out a hind with aU the flt^ars
drawn up towards tiie middle, like the daw of
a dead bird). All the ainews have gone, ss
yen seeyonrselC nCf MitihatletethoQditer
atraigfaten it, te the A^fOM va Uka Uls cf
stick, and yon ean*t band 'em ^
them.

•« When I eonldnt ley hold 1
lift it n|>, I showed it to master, sad ha 1
me to his doetor, who gived me noMMthing to
rub over it, for it waa sipellad sp lihsw and
then I went to St GeafgeVi Hnspitol, and thy
eat it over, and asked me if 1 sanlri eome in
doGCB aa in-door patientf andinaid Yesyte
I wanted to get it over aooncr, soad go haek to
my wotIe, and earn an honeai ewnwt Xhsn
they scaired it agahit enfc itaaasn times^end I
was these many long weeks; and i^en I
oomed ovt I oould not hold aof tooltaa I wm
ibroed to keep on pawning and liledgii^ to
keep on honest currust in my maaui^ and
sometimes I'd only just be with a morsel to
eat, and sometimes I'd be hnngiy, snd that's
the truth.

" What put me up to crossing-sweeping was
this — I had no other thing open to me but
the workhouse; hut of course I'd sooner be
out on my liberty, though I was entitled to
go into the housf», of course, but I'd sooner
keep out of it if I could earn an honest
currust.

" One of my neighbours persuaded me that
I should pick up n good currust at a crossing.
The man who had been on my crossing was
gone dead, and as it was empty, I went down
to the police-office, iu Murylebone Lane, and
they told me I might take it, and give me
liberty to stop. I was told the man who bad
been there before me had been on it fourteen
years, and them was good times for gentle
and simple and oil — and it was rep<Mrted that
this man had made a good bit of money, at
least so it was said.

*' I thought I could make a living ont of it,
or an honest currust, but it's a very poor liv-
ing, I can assure you. When I went to it first,
I done pretty fair for a currust ; but it's onJy
three shillings to me now. My missus has
such bad health, or she used to help me with
her needle. I can assure you, sir, it's only
one day a week as I have a bit of dinner^
and I often go without breakfast and anpper,
too.

«" I haveat got any regolar eoatometa that

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR,

•LVo

allow me anytlung. When the funilies is in
town sometimes they give me half-a-crown, or
sixpence, now and then, perhaps once a fort-
night, or a month. They've got footmen and
-servant-maids, so they never wants no parcels
taken — they make them do it; but sometimes
I get a penny for posting a letter from one of
the maids, or something like that

<* The best day for ns is Sunday. Some-
times I get a shilling, and when the families
is in town eighteen pence. But when the
families is away, and the weather so fine
there's no mud, and only working-people going
to the chapels, they never looks at me, and
then I'll only get a shilling."

Another who got Peiuiission to Sweep.

An old Irishman, who comes from Cork, was
spoken of to us as a crossing -sweeper wlio had
formally obtained permission before exercising
his calling; but I found, upon questioning
him, that it was but little more tlinn a true
Hibernian piece of conciliation on his port ;
and, indeed, that out of fear of competition,
he hod asked leave of the servants and poUce-
man in the neighbourhood.

It seems somewhat curious, as illustrative of
the rights of property among crossing-sweepers,
that three or four " intending" sweepers, when
they found themselves forestalled by the old
man in question, had no idea of supplanting
the Irishman, and merely remarked, —

*' Well, you're lucky to get it so soon, foi wo
meant to take it"

In reply to our questions, the man said, —

" I came here in Januoiy last : I knew the
old man was did who used to keep the
crossin', and I thought I would like the kind
of worruk, for I om getting blind, and hard of
heai'iiig likewise. I've got no parish; since
the passing of the last Act, I'vo niver lived
long enough in any one parish for that I
applied to Marabone, and Uiey offered to sind
me back to Ireland, but I'd got no one to go
to, no friends or relations, or if I have, they're
as poor there as I am mysilf^ sir.

*' There was an ould man here before me.
He used to have a stool to rest himsilf on, and
whin he died, last Christmas, a man as knew
him and me asked me whitlicr I would take it
or no, and I said I would. His broom and
stool were in the coal-collar at this comer

house, Mr. 'a, where he used to leave

tliem at night times, and they gave them up
to me ; but I didnt use the stool, sir, it might
be an obsthruction to the passers-by; and,
sir, it looks as if it was infirnimity. But, plaise
the Lord, I'll git and make a stool for myself
agaiubt the hard winter, I will, bein' a car-
penter by thrade,

" I didn't ask the gintlefolks' permission to
come here, but I asked the police and the
senants, and such as that I asked the ser-
vants at the comer-house. I dont know whi-
ther they could have kept me away if I had

not asked. Soon after I came here the gin-
tlefolks — some of them — stopped and spoke
to me. * So,' says th^-, * you've taken the
place of the old man that's did?' *Yes,
I have,' says I. 'Very will,' says they, and
they give me a ha'penny. That was all that
occurred upon my takin' to tlie crossin*.

** But there were some others who would
have taken it if I had not ; they tould me I
was lucky in gettin' it so soon, or they
would have had it, but I don't know who they
are.

" I am seventy-three years ould the 2d of
June last My wife is about the same age,
and very much afflicted with the rheumatis,
and she injured hersilf, too, years ago, by
fallin' off a chair while she was takin' some
clothes off the hne.

" Not to desave you, sir, I get a shillin' a-
week from one of my childer and uinepence
from another, and a little hilp from some of
tlie others. I have siven childer lirin', and
have had tin. They are very much scattered :
two are abroad ; one is in tlie tinth Hussars —
he is kind to me. The one who allows me
ninepence is a ba.-^ket-maker at Treading ; and
the shillin' I get from my daughter, a servant,
sir. One of my sons died in the Crimmy;
he was in the 10th Light Di>agoons, and
tlied at Scutari, on the 25th of May. They
could not hilp me more than they thry to do,
sir.

•* I only make about two shilling a- week
here, sir; and sometimes I don't take three
ha'pence a day. On Sundays I take about
sivenpence, ninepence, or tiupence, 'cordin' as
I see the people who give rigular.

" Weather mokes no difference to mo — for,
though the sum is small, I am a rigular pin-
sioner like of theirs. I go to Somer's-town Cha-
pel, being a Catholic, for I'm not ashamed to
own my religion before any man. When I go,
it is at siven in the evening. Sometimes I •
go to St Pathrick's Chapel, Soho- square. I
have not been to con fission for two or three
years — the last time was to Mr. Stanton, at
St Pathrick's,

" There's a poor woman, sir, who goes past
here every Friday to get her pay from the
parish, and, as sure as she comes back again,
she gives me a ha'penny — she does, indeed.
Sometimes the baker or the greengrocer gives
me a ha'penny for minding their baskets.

«< I'm perfectly satisfied ; it's no use to
grumble, and I might be worms ofi*, sir. Yes,
I go of arrinds some times ; fitch water now
and then, and post letters ; but I do no odd
jobs, such as hilping the servants to dean the
knives, or such-like. No: they wouldn't let
me behint the shadow of their doors."

A Thuld who asked Leave.

This one was a mild and rather intelligent
man, in a well-wom black dress-coat and waist-
coat, a pair of ** moleskin" trousers, and a

474

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

blue-and-white cotton neckerchief. I fonnd i
him sweeping the crossing at the end of I
phice, opposite the church.

He every now and then regaled himself
with a pinch of snuff, which seemed to light
up Ids careworn face. He seemed very will-
iiig to afford me information. He said : —

" I have been on this crossing four years.
I am a bricklayer by trade ; but you see how
my fingers have gone : it's all rheumatics, sir.
I took a great many colds. I had a great
deal of underground work, and that tries a
man very much.

" How did I get the crossing ? Well, I took
it— I came as a cas'alty. No one ever inter-
fered with me. If one man leaves a crossing,
well, another takes it.

" Yes, some crossings is worth a good deal
of money. There was a black in Regent-street,
at the comer of Conduit- strt>et, I think, who
had two or three houses — at least, I've heard
so ; and I know for a cortointy that the man
in Cavendish-square used to get so much a
week from the Duke of Portland — he got a
shilling a-day, and eightcenpence on Sundays.
I don't know why he got more on Sundays. I
don't know whether he gets it since the old
Duke's death.

"The boys worry me. I meon the little
boys with brooms; they are an abusive set,
and give me a good deal of annoyance ; they
ore so very cheeky; they watch the police
away ; but if they see the police coming, they
bolt like a shot. There are a great many
Irish lads among tliem. There were not
nearly so many boys about a few years ogo.

" I once made eii^hteenpenee in one day,
that was the best day I ever made : it was \Qvy
bud weather : but, take the year tliroiigh, I
don't make more than sixpence a-day.

" 1 haven't worked at ])ripklayinpf for a
matter of six year. What did I do for the two
years before I took to crossing-sweepinj? ?
\viiy, sir, I had saved a little money, and
managed to get on somehow. Yes, I liave
liad my troubles, but I never liad what I call
P'reat ones, excepting my wife's blindness.
She was blind, sir, for eleven year, and so I
haJ to liglit for everything : she has been dead
two year, come September.

" i have seven children, five boys and two
Kirls; they are all grown up and got families.
Yes, they ought, omongst them, to do some-
thinj? for me; but if you have to trust to
children, you will soon find out what that is.
If tliey want anything of you, they know where
to find you ; but if you want anything of them,
its no go.

" 1 think I made more money when first I
swept tliis crossing than I do now ; it's not a
(jood crossing, sir. Oh, no ; but it's handy
home, you see. When a shower of rain comes
on, I can run home, and needn't go into a
public-house ; but it's a poor neighboiuhood.

"Oh yes, indeed sir, I am always here.
Certainly ; I am laid up sometimes for a day

with my feet. I am subject to the ihea-
matio gout, you see. Well, I don't know
whether so much standing has anything to do
with it

" Yes, sir, I have heard of what yon call
* shutting-up shop.* I never heard it called
by that name before, though ; but there's lots
of sweepers as sweep back the dirt before
leaving at night I know they do, some of
them. I never did it myself — I don't care
about it ; I always think there's the trouble of
sweeping it back in the morning.

** People liberal? No, su:, I dont think
there are many hberal people about; it4)eo]de
were hberal I should make a good deal of
money.

" Sometimes, after I get home, I read a
book, if I can borrow one. What do I read?
Well, novels, when I can get them. Wliat did
I read last night? Well, Reynold*** Miaed-
lany; before that I read the PiU/rim'g Prtyress.
I have read it three times over ; but there's
always something new in it

*' Well, weather makes very little differenoe
in this neighbourhood. My rent is two-and-
sixpence a-week. I have a little rehef horn
the parish. How much ? Two-and^xpence.
How much does my living cost ? Well, I am
forced to live on what I can get I manage
as well as I can ; if I have a good week, I
spend it — I get more nourishment then,
that's all.

" I used to smoke, sir, a great deal, but I
haven't touched a pipe for a matter of forty
year. Yes, sir, I tiuce snnff, Seotch and Rap-
pee, mixed. If I go without a meal of vic-
tuals, I must have my snuff. I tiike an ounce
a-week. sir ; it costs fourpence — that there is
the only luxury I get, unless somebody gives
me a half pint of beer.

" I very rarely get an odd job, this is not the
neighbourhood for them things.

*' Yes, sir, I go to church on Run<lay ; I go
to All Souls', in Langham-place, the church
I with the sharp spire. I go in the raominj:;
once a day is quite enough for me. In the
afternoon, I generally take a walk in the Park.
or I go to see one of my young ones ; tliey
won't come to the old crossing-sweeper, so I
go to them."

A Regent-street Crossing-Sweepeb.

A MAN who had stationed himself at the end
of Regent-street, near the County Fire Office,
gave me the following particulars.

He was a man far superior to the ordinaiy
run of sweepers, and, as will be seen, had
fomierly been a gentleman's sen-ant. His
costume was of that peculiar miscellaneous
description which showed that il had from
time to time been given to him in charity. A
dress - coat so man-ellously tiglit that the
stitches were stretching open, a waistcoat witli
a remnant of embroidery, and a pair of trou-
sers which wiinkled like a groom's toi>-boot.

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

475

had all evidently been part of tho wardxobe
of Uie gentlemen whose errands he had run.
His boots were the most curious portion of
his toilette, for they were large enough for a
fisherman, and the portion unoccupied by
the foot had gone flat and turned up like a
Turkish slipper.

He spoke with a tone and manner which
showed some education. Once or twice whilst
I was listening to his statement he insisted
upon removing some dirt fi:t>m my shoulder,
and, on leaving, he by force seized my hat
and brushed it — all which habits of attention
he had contracted whilst in service.

I was surprised to see stuck in the wiist-
band of his coat-sleeve a row of pius, arranged
as neatly as in the papers sold at the mercers'.

** Since the Irish have come so much — the
boys, I mean — my crossing has been com-
pletely cut up," he said ; ** and yet it is in as
good a spot as could well be, from the Cotmty
Fire Office (Mr. Beaimiont as owns it) to
Swan and Edgai-'s. It ought to be one of the
fust crossings in the kingdom, but these Irish
have spiled it.

'* I should think, as far as I can guess, Pve
been on it eight year, if not better ; but it was
some time before I got known. You see, it
does a feller good to be some time on a cross-
ing ; but it all depends, of course, whether you
are honest or not, for it's according to your
honesty as you gets rewarded. By rewarded,
I means, >ou gets a character given to you by
word of mouth. For instance, a party wants
me to do a job for 'em, and they says, * Can
you get any lady or gentleman to speak for
you ?' And I says, * Yes ;* and I gets my cha-
racter by word of mouth— that's what I calls
being rewarded.

** Before ever I took a broom in hand, the
good times hod gone for crossings and sweep-
ers. The good times was thirty year back.
In the reguhir season, when they (the gentiy)
are in town, I have taken from one and six-
pence to two shillings a-day ; but every day's
not alike, for people stop at home in wet days.
But, you see, in winter-time the crossings ain't
no good, and then we turn off to shovelling
snow ; so that, you see, a shilling a* day is
even too high for us to take regular all the
year round. Now, I ain't taken a shilling, no,
nor a blessed bit of silver, for these three days.
All the quality's out of town.

** It ain't what a man gets on a crossing as
keeps him; thai ain't worth mentioning. I
dont think I takes sixpence a-day regular —
all the year round, mind — on Uie crossing.
No, I'd take my solemn oath I don't ! If you
was to put down fourpenco it would be nearer
the mark. I'll tell you the use of a crossing
to such^ as me and my likes. It's our shop,
and it ain't what we gets a-sweeping, but it's a
place like for us to stand, and then people as
wants us, comes and fetches us.

*' In the summer I do a good deal in jobs. I do
anything in the portering line, or if I'm called

to do boots and shoes, or dean knives and
forks, then I does that But that's only when
people's busy ; for I've only got one regular
place I goes to, and that's in A street, Pic-
cadilly. I goes messages, parcels, letters,
and anything that's required, either for the
master of the hotel or the gonts that uses
there. Now, there's one party at Swan and
Edgar's, and I goes to take parcels for him
sometimes ; and he won't trust anybody but
me, for you see I'm know'd to be trustworthy,
and then they reckons me as safe as the Bank,
— there, that's just it.

" I got to the hotel only lately. You see,
when the peace was on and the soldiers was
coming home from the Crimmy, then the go-
vernor he was exceeding busy, so he give me
two shillings a-day and my board ; but that
wasn't reg'lar, for as he wants me he comes
and fetches me. It's a-nigh impossible to say
what I makes, it dont turn out reg'lar ; Sun-
day's a shilling or one - and - sixpence, other
days nothing at all — not salt to my porridge.
You see, when I helps the party at tbe hotel,
I gets my food, and that's a lift. I've never
put down what I made in the course of the
year, but I've got enough to find food and rai-
ment for myself and family. Sir, I think I
may say I gets about six shillings a-week, but
it ain't more.

'* I've been abroad a good deal. I was in
Cape Town, Table Bay, one-and-twenty miles
fix)m Simons' Town— for you see the French
mans-of-war come's in at Cape Town, and tho
English mans-of-war comes in at Simons'
ToYTSi. I was a gentleman's servant over
there, and a very good place it was ; and if
anybody was to have told me years back that
I was to have come to what I am now, I could
never have credited it ; but misfortunes has
brought me to what I am.

'* 1 come to England thinking to better
myself, if so be it was the opportunity ; be-
sides, I was tired of Africy, and anxious to see
my native land.

"I was very hard up — ay, very hard up
indeed — before I took to the cross, and, in
preference to tiuning out dishonest, I says,
I'll buy a broom and go and sweep and get a
honest livelihood.

** There was a Jewish lady and her husband
used to live in the Suckus, and I knowed them
and the family — very fine sons they was — and
I went into tbe shop to ask them to let me
work before Uie shop, and they give me their
permission so to do, and, says she, *■ V\\ allow
you threepence a-week.' They've been good
friends to me, and send me a messages ; and
wherever they be, may they do well, I says.

** I sometimes gets clothes give to me, but
it's only at Christmas times, or after its over ;
and that helps me along — it does so, indeed.

*• Whenever I sees a pin or a needle, I picks
it up ; sometimes I finds as many as a dozen
a-day, and I always sticks them cither in my
cuff or in my waistcoat Yeiy often a lady

470

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

sees 'em, and then they comes to me and says,
*Can yoa oblige me with a pin?' and I says,
< Oh yes, marm ; a couple, or three, if you
requires them;' but it turns out veiy rare
that I gets a trifle for aD}thing like that I
only does it to be obliging — besides, it makes
you friends, like.

" I can't tell who's got the best crostdng in
London. I'm no judge of tliat; it isn't a
broom as can keei> a man now. They're going
out of town so fast, all the harristocraoy ;
though it's middling classes — such as is in a
middling way like — as is the best iiiends to
me."

A TiUDESMiN'8 Cbossiko-Sweepeb.

A MAN who had worked at crossing-sweeping
us a boy when ho first came to London, and
again when ho grew too old to do his work as
a labourer in a coal-yard, gave me a statement
of the kind of life he led, and the earnings he
made. He was an old man, with a forehead
so wrinkled that the dork, waved hues remind-
ed me of the grain of oak. His thick hair
was, despite liis great age — which was nearly
boveuty — still dark; and as he conversed with
me, he was continually taking off his hat, and
wiping his face with what api>eared to be a
piece of flannel, about a foot bquare.

His costumo was of what might be called
<• the all-sorts" kind, and, from constant wear,
it had lost its original colour, and had turned
into a sort of dirty green-^grey hue. It con-
sisted of a waistcoat of tweed, fastened to-
gether with buttons of glass, metal, and bone ;
0 tail-coat, turned brown with weather, a pair
of trousers repiiircil lic-ro and there with big
stitches, like the tocth of a comb, and these
forme<l the extent of Ids wui'drobo. Around
tlie collar of the coat and wiii-itoont, and on
the thighs of tho pautalfj<jns, the luyei-s of
grease were so tliick that the libro of the cloth
was choked up, and it looked as if it had been
I'iecrd witli l»its of leatlier.

Kulibiug lijs imshttru chin, whereon the
bristles stood up like the i)cgs in tho barrel of
a musical-box — until it made a noise hko u
li air-brush, he began his story : —

" I'm known all about in Parliament-street
— ay, every bit about them parts, — for more
than thirty year. Ay, I'm as well known as
the statty itself, all about them parts at
Charing-cross, Afore I took to crossing-
sweeping I was at coal- work. The coal-w(.rk 1
did was backing and filling, and ajiythmk in
til at way. 1 worked at "Wood's, and I'enny's,
and Douglas's. They were good masters, Mr.
Wood 'specially ; but the work was too much
for me as I got old. There was plenty of cool
work in them times ; indeed, I've yearned as
much as nine shillings of a day. That was the
time as the meters was on. Now men can
hardly earn a hving at coal- work. I left the
coal-work because I was took ill witii a fever,
as was brought on by sweating — over-exoc/ion

they called it. It left me so weak I wasnl
able to do nothink in the yazds.

*'I know Mr. G , the fishmonger, and

^Ir. J , the publican. I should think Afr.

J has knowed me this eight-and -thirty-year,

and they put me on to the crossing. Yon see,
when I was odd man at a coal job^ I'd go and
do whatever there was to be done in the neigh-
bourhood. If there was anythink as Mr.

G 's men couldn't do — such as canying

fish home to a customer, when the other men

were busy — I was sent for. Or Mr. J

would send me with speirits — a gallon, or half
a gallon, or anythink of that sort — a loog
journey. In fact, I'd get anythink as come
handy.

" I had done crossing-sweeping as a boy,
before I took to coaLwork, when I first come
out of the countr}'. My own head first put me
up to the notion^ and that's more than fifly
year ago — ay, more than that ; but I cant call
to mind exactly, for I've had no parents ev^r
since I was eight year old, and now I'm nigh
seventy ; but it's as close as I can remember.
I was about thirteen at that time. There was
no police on then, and I saw a good hit of road
as was dirty, and says I, ' That's a good qtotto
keep clean,' and I took it I used to go op to
the tops of the houses to throw over the snow,
and I've often been obliged to get men to help
me. I suppose I was about the first person
as ever swept a crossing in Chaxing-cioss ;
(here, as if proud of the fact^ he gave a kind of
moist chuckle, which ended in a fit of cough-
ing). I used to make a good bit of money
then ; but it ain't worth nothink, now.

" After I left coal-backing, I went back to
the old crossing opposite tlie Adniralty gales,

and I stopped there until Mr. G give me

the one I'm on now, and thank liim for it, I

says. Mr. G had tlie crossing paved, as

leads to Ills shop, to accommodate the cus-
tomers, lie had a Germ.in there to sweep it
afore me. He used to sweep in the day —
come about ten or eleven o'clock in the morn-
ing, and then at night he turned watchman ;

for when there was any wenson, as Mr. G

deals in, hanging out, he was put to watch it.
This German worked there, I reckon, about
seven year, and when he died I took the cross-
ing.

•' The crossing ain't much of a lining for
any body — that is, what I tixkos on it. But
then I've got ngular customere as gives me

money. There's Mr. G , he gives a shil-

ling a-wcek; ond there's Captiun R , of

the Adm'ralty, ho gives me sixiK?ncc a fort-
night; and another captain, of the name of

R , he gives mo fourpence every Sunday.

Ah ! Id forgot Mr. 0 , the Secretary at the

Adm'ralty ; he gives me sixpence now and
then. Besides, 1 do a lot of odd jobs for dif-
ferent people ; they knows where to come and
find me when they wants me. They gets me
to carry letters, or a parcel, or a box, or any-
think of that there. I has a bit of vittals, too»

LONDON LABOZTB AND THE LONDON POOB. 477

give me erery now and then ; bnt as for transported, while a daughter '* went wrong,**

money, it's very little as I get on the crossings thoagh she, wretched creature, paid a fearfUl

— perhaps seven or eight shilling a-we£, penalty, I learnt, for her frailties, having been

re^ar customers and aU. burnt to death in the middle of the night,

" I never heard of anybody as was leaving a through a careless habit of smoking in bed.

crossing selling it ; no, never. My crossing The old sweeper herself, eighty years of age,

aint a reg'lar one as anybody could have. If and almost beyond labour, very deaf, and

I was to leave, it depends upon whether Mr. rather feeble to all appearance, yet manages to

G would like to have the party, as to who get out every morning between four and five,

gets it. There's no such thing as turning a so as to catch the workmen and ** time-
reg'lar sweeper out, the police stops that. I've keepers'* on their way to the factories. She
been known to them for years, and they are has the true obsequious curtsey, but is said to
very kind to me. As they come's by they says, be very strong in her ** likes and dislikes."
* Jimmy, how are you ?' You see, my crossing She bears a good character, though some-
comes handy for them, for it's agin Scotland- times inclining, I was informed, towards
yard ; and when they turns out in their clean ** tlie other half-pint," but never guilty of any
boots it saves their blacking. excess. She is somewhat profuse in her

" Lord G used to be at the Adm'ralty, scriptural ejaculations and professions of grati-

but he ain't there now; I don't know why he tude. Her statement was as follows : —

left, but he's gone. He used to give me six- " Fifteen years I've been on the crossing,

I>ence every now and then when he come over, come next Christmas. My husband died in

I was near to my crossing when Mr. Drum- Guy's Hospital, of the cholera, three days

mond was shot, but I wasnt near enough to after he got in, and I took to the crossing some

hear the pistol ; but I didnt see nothiiidc I time after. I had nothing to do. I am eighty

know'd the late Sir Robert Peel, oh, certantly, years of age, and I couldn't do hard work. I

but he seldom crossed over my crossing, have nothmg but what the great God above

though whenever he did, he*d give me some- pleases to give me. The poor woman who

think. The present Sir Bobert goes over to had the crossing before me was killed, and

the chapel in Spring-gardens when he's in so I took it. The gentleman who was the

town, but he keeps on the other side of the foreman of the road, gave me the grant to take

way ; so I never had anythink from him. He's it. I didn't ask him, for poor people as wants

the very picture of his father, and I knows him a bit of bread they goes on the crossings as

from that, only his father were rather stouter they likes, but he never interfered with me.

than he is. I don't know none of the mem- The first day I took sixpence ; but them good

hers of parliament, they most on 'em keeps on times is all gone, they'll never come back

shifting so, that I hamt no time to recognise again. The best times I used to take &

'em. shilling a-day, and now I don't take but a few

'* The watering-carts ain't no friends of pence. The winter is as bad as the summer,

our'n. They makes dirt and no pay for dean- for poor people haven't got it to give, and gen-

ing it. There's so much traffic with coaches tlefolks get vexy near now. People ore not so

and carts going right over my crossing tibat h liberal as they used to be, and they never will

fine or wet day don't make much diflfeirence to be again.

me, for people are afraid to oross for fear of " To do a hard day's washing, I couldn't I

being run over. Pm forced to have my eyes nsed to go to a lady's house to do a bit of wash-

about me and dodge the wehides. I never ing when I had my strength, but I can't do it

heerd, as I can tell on, of a crossing-sweeper now.

being run over." ^ " People going to their oflices at six or seven

in the morning gives me a ha'penny or a

2. The Able-bodikd Feuaub Cbossxro- penny ; if they don't, I must go without it. I

SwEBFBBS. go ctt five, and stand tliere till eleven or twelve,

The Old Woman " oveb tiie Wateb.** ^ 1^°*^ ''/f '*'' """^ being there any longer.

xoA ^jiM »TUJUA« wtjitt xidii wAifitt. Qjj^ ^Yie gentlemen give me the most, I'm sure;

She is the widow of a sweep — " as respectable the ladies dont give me nothing.

and 'dustrious a man," I was told, " as any in " At Christmas I get a few things — a gentle-

the neighbourhood of the ' Borough ; ' he was man gave me these boots I've got on, and a

a short man, sir, — ^very short," said my in- ticket for a half-quartern loaf and a hundred of

formant, ** and had a weakness for top-boots, coals. I have got as much as five shillings

white hats, and leather breeches," and in that at Christmas— but those times vi\\\ never come

unsweeplike costume he would parade him- back again. I get no more than two shillings

self up and down the Dover and New Kent- and sixpence at Christmas now.

roads." He had a capital connexion (or, as " My husband, Thomas was his name,

his widow terms it, "seat of business"), and was a chimley-sweep. He did. a very good

left behind him a good name and repatation business— it was all done by his sons. We

that would have kept the "seat of business*' had a boy with us, too, just as a friendly boy.

together, if it had not been fbr the miseonduct I was a mother and a mistress to him. I've

of the childreii, two of idiom (sons) have been had eleven ehildren. I'm grandmother to

478

LONDON LAJJOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

fifteen, and a grcat-grandmotber, too. Tlicy
won't give mo a bite of bread, thougb, any of
•em, I've got four children living, as for as I
know, two abroad and two home here with
families. I never go among 'era. It is not in
my power to assist 'cm, so I never go to dis-
tress 'em.

" 1 get two shilling a-wcek from tho parish,
and I have to pay out of that for a quartern
loaf, a quarU.>m of sugar, and an ounce of tea.
The parish forces it on me, so I must tako it,
and that only leaves me one shilling and ibur-
pence. A shilling of it goes for my lodging.
I lodge witli people who knew my family and
me, and tot >k a liking to me ; they let me come
there instead of wandering about the st^reets.

" I stand on my crossing till I'm like to
drop over my broom with tiredness. Yes, sir,
r go to church at St George's in the Borough.
I go there every Sundoy morning, after I leave
my roads. They've token the organ and
charity children away that used to be there
when I was a girl, so it's not a church now, it's
ft Qhapflt There's notliing but the preacher
find tho gentlefolks, and they sings their own
psalms. There are gatherings at that church,
but whether it's for the poor or not I dont
know. / don't get any of it
% " It was a great loss to me when my husband
died ; I wenf all to ruin then. My father be-
longed to Scotland, at Edinboro'. My mother
came from Yorksliire. I don't know where
Scotland is no more than tho dead. My father
was a gentleman's gardener and watchman. My
mother used to go out a-chairing, and she was
drowned just by Horsenionger Lane. She was
coming through tho Halfpenny Hatch, that
used to he just faeinfj; tlio Crown and Anchor,
in tho New Kent roiul; tliere wius an open
ditch there, sir. Sho took the left-hand turn-
ing instoud of tho rijjht, and was drowndod.
My father died in St. Martin's Workhouse.
He died of apoplexy fit.

" 1 used to mind my father's place till mother
died. His honsekeopor 1 was — God help me !
a line on<i too. Thank tlw? Lord, my husband
was tt rleviu- man ; he hud a good seat of busi-
ness. I lost my right liand when ho died. I
couldn't carry it on. There was my two sons
went for sogers, and the others were above
tlicir business. He left a seat of business
worth a hundred pound ; he sened all up the
New Kentroad. lie was beloved by all his
people. He used to climb himself when I first
had him, but he left it oft' when he got children.
I hod my husband when I was fifteen, and
kept him forty years. Ah I he was well- beloved
by all around, except his children, and they
beliaved shameful. I said to his eldest son,
wlion he lay in the hospital, (asking your par-
don, sir, for mentioning it) — I says to his
eldest son, * Billy,' says I, • your father's very
bad — why don't you go to see him?' 'Oh.'
says he, ' he's all right, he's gettin' better ; '
and he was never the one to go and see him
once ; and he never come to the funeral.

*' Billy tliought I shoold come upon him
after his death, but I never troubled him for
as much as a crumb of bread.

** I never get spoken to on my roads, only
some people say, * Good morning,' * There you
are, old lady.' Thoy never asks me no questions
whatsomever. I never get run over, though I
am very hard of hearing ; but I am forced to
have my eyes here, there, and everywhere, to
keep out of the way of the carts and coaches.

" Some days I goes to my crossing, and earns
nothink at all : other days it's sometimes four-
l)ence, sometimes sixpence. I earned four-
pence to-day, and I had a bit of snuff out of it.
Why, I believe I did yearn fivepence yesterday
— I won't tell no story. I got ninepence on
Sunday — ^that was a good day ; but, God knows,
tliat didD't go far. I yearned so much I
couldn't bring it home on Saturday— it almost
makes me laugh, — I yearned sixpence.

*' I goes every morning, winter or summer,
iVost or snow; and at tJie same hour (five
o'clock) ; people c-ertainly don't think of gi>ing
so much in fine weather. Nobody ever mis-
lestdd me, and I never mislested nobody. If
they gives me a penny, I thanks 'em ; and if
they gives me nothing, I thanks 'em all the
same.

*' If I was to go into the House, I shouldn't
live three days. It's not that I eat much — a
very little is enough for me ; but it's tlie air I
should miss: to be shut up like a thief. I
couldn't live long, I know."

The Oij) Woman Crossino-Swekpkr vbo^

HAD A PkNSIONER.

This old dame is remarkable from tho faot
of being the chief support of a poor deaf
cripple, who is as much poorer thou the cross-

iny-swcepcr as she is pooler than Mrs. • ,

ill street, who allows the sweeper sixpence

a-weck. The crossing- sweeper is a rather stuut
old womim, with a cameying tone, mid con-
stant curtsey. She complains, in common willi
most of hcrdoss, of the present hard times,
and reverts longingly to the good old days whtn
proplo were more liberal than they are now,
and had more to give. She says : —

" I was on my crossing before the police
was made, f«)r I am not able to work, and only
get helped by the people who knows me.

Mr. , in the square, gives me a shilling

a-week ; Mrs. , in street, gives me

sixpence; (she has gone in the country now»
but she has left it at the oil-shop for mc>;
that's what I depinds upon, darlin', to hely
pay my rent, which is holf-a-crown. My rent
was three shillings, till the landlord didn't wish
me to go, 'cause I was so punctual with my
money. I give a comer of my room to a
poor cretur, who's deaf as a beadle; i?he
works at the soldiers' coats, and is a very good
hand at it, and would earn a good deal of
money if she had constant work. She owe«l
I as good as twelve shillings and sixpence for

THE CBOSSING-SWEEPEE THAT HAS BEEN A MAID-SEBVANT.

[From a Photograph,}

^%^1A'^%

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

479

rent, poor thing, where she was last, and the
landl^ took all her goods except her bed ;
she's got that, so I give her a comer of
my room for charity's sake. We must look
to one another: she's as poor as a church
mouse. I thought she would be company
for me, still a deaf person is but poor company
to one. She had that heavy sickness they
call the cholera about five years ago, and it
fell in her side and in the side of her head
too — that made her deaf. Oh! she's a poor
object. She has been with me since the
month of February. I've lent her money out
of my own pocket. I give her a cup of tea
or a slice of bread when I see she hasn't got
any. Then the people up-stairs are kind to
her, and give her a bite and a sup.

*■'' My husband was a soldier ; he fought at
the battle of Waterloo. His pension was
ninepenca a-day. All my family are dead,
except my grandson, what's in New Orleans.
I expect him back this very month that now
we have: he gave me four pounds before he
went, to carry me over the last winter.

" If the Almighty God pleases to send him
back, he'U be a great help to me. He's all
I've got left. I never had but two children in
all my life.

** I worked in noblemen's houses before I
was manried to my husband, who is dead;
but he came to be poor, and I had to leave
my houses where I used to work.

*' I took twopence-halfpenny yesterday, and
threepence to-day; the day before yest^day I
didn't take a penny. I never come out on
Sunday; I goes to Bosomon-street Chapel.
Last Saturday I made one aliining and six-
pence; on Friday, sixpence. I dare say X
make three shillings and siiqpence a-week,
besides the one shilling and sixpence I gets
allowed me. I am forced to miJce a do of it
somehow, but I've no mosa strength left in
me than this ould broom."

Thb Crosbino.Sweepeb who had bexh
▲ Ssbvamt-Maid.

She is to be found any day between eight in
the morning and seven in the evening, sweep-
ing away in a convulsive, jerky sort of manner,
close to — > square, near the Foundling. She
may be known by her pinched-up straw bonnet,
with a broad, faded, almost colourless ribbon.
She has weak eyes, and wears over them a
brownish shade. Her face is tied up, because
of a gathering which she has on her head.
She wears a small, old plaid cloak, a clean
checked i^ron, and a tidy printed gown.

She is rather shy at first, but willing and
obliging enough withal ; and she lives down

Little Yard, in Great street. The

** yard*' that is made like a mousetn^ — small
at the entrance, but amazingly large inside,
and dilapidated though extensive.

Here are stables and a couple of blind
alleys, nameleea, or bearing the same name as

the yard itself, and wherein are huddled more
people than one could count in a quarter of
an hour, and more children than one likes to
remember, — dirty children, listlessly trailing
an old tin baking-dish, or a worn-out shoe, tied
to a piece of string ; suUen children, who turn
away in a fit of sleepy anger if spoken to;
screaming children, setting all the parents in
the '"yard" at defiance; and quiet children,
who are arranging banquets of dirt in the
reeking gutters.

The " yard " is devoted principally to coster-
mongers.

The crossing-sweeper lives in the top-room
of;a two-storied house, in the very depth of
the blind alley at the end of the yard. She
has not even a room to herself, but pays one
shilling a-week for the privilege of sleeping
with a woman who gets her living by seUing
tapes in the streets.

<< Ah !" says the sweeper, *' poor woman, she
has a hard time of it ; her husband is in the
hospital with a bad leg-^in fact, he'd scarcely
ever out. If you could hear that woman
cough, you'd never forget it. She would have
had to starve to-day if it hadn't been for a
person who actually lent her a gown to pledge
to raise her stock-money, poor thing."

The room in which these people live has a
sloping roof, and a small-paned window on
each side. For furniture, there were two cha&8
and a shaky, three-legged slool, a deal table,
and a bed rolled up against the wall — nothing
else. In one comer of the room lay the last
lump remaining of the seven pounds of coals.
In another comer there were herbs in pans,
and two water-bottles without their noses. The
most striking thing in that litde room was
some crockery, the woman had managed to
save from the wreck of her things; among
this, curiously enough, was a soup-tureen,
with its lid not even cracked.

There was a piece of looking-glass — a small
three-cornered piece — forming an almost equi-
lateral triangle, — and the oldest, and most
rubbed and worn-out piece of a miiror that
ever escaped the dust-bin.

The fireplace was a veiy small one, and on
the table were two or three potatoes and about
one-fifth of a red herring, which the poor
street-seller had saved out of her breakfast to
serve for her supper. '* Take my solemn word
for it, sir," said the sweeper, ** and I wouldn't
deceive you, that is all she will get besides a
cup of weak tea when she comes home tired
at night."

The statement of this old sweeper is as
follows : —

*' My name is Mary — — .. I live in '
yard. I live with a person of the name of

, in the back attic ; she gets her living by

selling flowers in pots in the street, but she is
now doing badly. I pay her a shilling a-week.

<( My parents were Welsh. I was in service,
or maid-of-all-woik, till I got married^. My
husband was a seafhring man when I maaried

480

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR,

liiin. After we were married, he got his living
by seUing xnemorandum-almanack books, and
the like, aboat the streets. He was driven to
that because he had no trade in his hand, and
he was obliged to do something for a living.
He did not make much, and over-exertion,
with want of nourishment, brought on a para-
lytio stroke. He had the first fit about two
years before he had the second ; the third fit,
which was the last, he had on the Monday,
and died on the Wednesday week. I have two
children still living. One of them is married
to a poor man, who gets his living in the
streets; but as far as lays in his power he
makes a good husband and father. My other
daughter is living with a niece of mine, for I
can't keep her, sir ; she minds the children.

" My nther was a journeyman shoemaker.
He was killed ; but I cannot remember how — I
was too young. I eun't recollect my mother.
I was brought up by an uncle and aunt till I
was able to go to service. I went out to service
at five, to mind children under a nurse, and I
was in service till I got married. I had a great
many situations ; you see, sir, I was forced to
keep in place, because I had nowhere to go to,
my uncle and aunt not being able to keep me.
I was never in noblemen's families, only trades-
people's. Service was very hard, sir, and so I
believe it continues.

" I am fifty-five years of age, and I have been
on the crossing fourteen years ; but just now
it is very poor work indeed. Well, if I wishes
for bad weather, I'm only like other people, I
suppose. I have no regular customers at all ;
the only one I liad left has lost his senses, sir.

Mr. H , he used to allow us sixpence

a- week ; but he went mad, and we don't got it
now. Hy us, I mean the throe crossing-
sweepers in the square where I work.

• •* Indeed, I like the wintertime, for the
families is in. Though the weather is more
severe, yet you do get a few more ha'pence. I
take more from the staid elderly people than
from the young. At Christmas, I think I took
about eleven shillinp^s, but certainly not more.
The most I ever iund<3 at that season was four-
teen shillings. 'I'hc worst about Christmas is,
that those who give much then generally hold
tlieir hand for a week or two.

*' A shilling a-day would be as much as I
want, sir. I have stood in the squoi-e all day
for a ha'penny, and I have stood here for no-
thing. One week with another, I make two
shillings in the seven days, after paying for
my broom. I have taken tlireppence ha'penny
to-day. Yesterday — let me see — well, it was
threppence ha'penny, too ; Monday I don't re-
member; but Sundoy I recollect — it was fip-
pence ha'penny. Years ago I made a great
deal more — nearly three times as much.

" I come about eight o'clock in the moraing,
and go away about six or seven ; I am here
every day. The boys used to come at one time
with their brooms, but they're not allowed here
now by the police.

" I should not think crossingB worth pur-
chasing, unless people made a better living od
them than I do."

I gave the poor creature a small piece of
silver for her trouble, and asked her if that,
with the threepence hal^enny, made a good
day. She answered heardly —

*' I should like to see such another day to-
morrow, sir.

" Yes, winter is very much better than som-
mer, only for the trial of standing in the frost
and snow, but we certainly do get more then.
The families won't be in town for three months
to come yet. Ah ! this neighbourhood is no-
thing to what it was. By God's removal, and
by their own removal, the gobd lamihes are
all gone. The present families are not so
liberal nor so wealthy. It is not the richest
people that give the most Tradespeople, and
'specially gentlefolks who have sitoalions, are
better to me than the nobleman who rides in
his carriage.

*' I always go to Trinity Church, Gray^ian-
road, about two doors from the Welsh School
— the Rev. Dr. Witherington preaches there.
I always go on Sunday afternoon and eveniog,
for I can't go in the morning ; I can't giA
Kw&j from my crossing in time. I never omit
a day in coming here, unless Fm ill, or the
snow is too heavy, or the weather too bad, and
then Tm obligatt^d to resign.

** I have no friends, sir, only my children ;
my uncle and aunt havo been dead a lo^g time.
I go to see my children on Sunday, or in the
evening, when I leave here.

*' After I leave I have a cup of tea, and after
that I go to bed ; very ft-equently I'm in Itedat
nine o'clock. I liave my cup c»f tea if I can
anyway get it; but I'm forced to go without
that sometimes.

"When my sight was better, I usicd to be
very partial to reading; but I c^n'l sec the
print, yir, now. I used to read the Bible, and
the newspaper. Story-books I have read, too.
but not many novels. Yes, Robinson Crusoe I
know, but not the Piiifrims Progrea. Ive
heard of it ; they tell me it is a very interesting
book to read, but I never had it. We never
liave any ladies or Scripture-readers come to
our lodgings ; you see, we're so out, they might
come a dozen times and not find us at home.
•I wear out three brooms in a-week; but
in the summer one will last a fortnight. I
give threepence ha'penny for them ; there are
twopenny-ha'penny brooms, but they are not
so good, they are liable to have their handles
come out. It is very fatiguing standing so manr
hours; my legs aches with pain, and swells.
I was once in Middlesex Hospital for sixteen
weeks with my legs. My eyes have been weak
from a child. I have got a gathering in m;
head from catching cold standing on the crpss-
ing. I had the fever this time twelvemonth.
I laid a fortnight and four days at home, and
seven weeks in the hospital. I took the diar- ,
rliuea after that, and was six weeks under the

LONDON LABOUB AND THE LONDON POOR.

481

doctor's hands. I used to do odd jobs, bat mj
health won't peimit me now. I used to make
two or three shillings a-week by 'em, and get
scraps and things. Bat I get no broken yic-
taals now.

" I never get anything from servants ; they
dont get mr»^ than they know what to do
with.

^ I don't get a drop of beer once in a month.

" I dont know but what this being oat may
be the best t- *ng, after all ; for if I was at
home all my time, it woald not agree with
me."

Statement of " Old John," the Waterman

AT THE FaBBINODON-STBEET CAB-STAHD, CON-
CEBMINO THE OlD BlACK CROSSINa-SWEEPEB

WHO LETT £800 TO Miss Waithman.

** Yes, sir, I knew him for many year, though
I never spoke to him in all my lUe. He was
a stoatish, thickset man, about my build, and
used 10 walk with his broom up and down —

80."

Here '* Old John" imitated the halt and stoop
of an old man.

** He used to touch his hat continually," he
went on. *' ' Please remember the poor black
man,' was his cry, never anything else. Oh
yes, he made a gr^ deal of money. People
gave more then than they do now. Where they
give one sixpence now, they used to give ten.
It's just the same by our calling. lived
humbly ? Yes, I think he did ; at all events,
. he seemed to do so when he was on his cross,
ing. He got plenty of odds-and-ends from
the comer Mere-* Alderman Waithman's, I
mean ; he was a very sober, quiet sort of man.
No, sir, nothing peeuhar in his dress. Some
blacks are peculiar in their dress ; but he
would wear anything he could get give him.
They used to call him Romeo, I think. Gur*-
OU8 name, sir ; but the best man I ever knew
was called Romeo, and he was a black.

'* The crossing-sweeper had his regular cus-
tomers ; he knew their times, and was there
to the moment. Oh yes, he was always. Hail,
rain, or snow, he never missed. I don't know
how long he had the crossing. I remember
him ever since I was a postboy in Doctors'
Commons ; I knew him when I lived in Hol-
bom, and I haven't been away from this neigh-
bourhood since 1809.

^ No, sir, there's no doubt about his leaving
the money to Miss Waithman. Everybody
round about here knows it; just ask them, sir.
Miss Waithman (on old maid she were, sir)
used to be very kind to him. He used to
sweep from Alderman Waithman's (it's the
Sunday Tlmt» now) across to the opposite side
of the way.

*' When he died, an old man, as had been a
soldier, took possession of the crossing. How
did he get it? Why. I say, he took it. First
come, &st sarved, sir ; that's their way. They
never sell crossings. Sometimes (for a lark)

they shift, and then one stands treat— a gal-
lon of beer, or something of that sort. The
perlice interfered with the soldier — you know
the sweepers is all forced to go if the perlice
interfere; now with us, sir, we are licensed,
and they can*t make us move on. They inter-
fered, I say, with the old soldier, because he
used to get so drunk. Why, at a public-house
close at hand, he would spent seven, eight,
and ten shillings on a night, three or four
days together. He used to gather so many
blackguards round the crossing, they were
forced to move him at last. A young man has
got it now ; he has had it three year. He is
not always here, sometimes away for a week at
a stretch; but, you see, he knows the best
times to come, and then he is sure to be here.
The little boys come^th their brooms now
and then, but the perlice always drive them
oway."

3. The Able-bodied Ibish Cbossino-
Sweepeb.

The Old Ibish Cbossino-Sweepeb.

This man, a native of *' County Corruk," has
been in England only two years and a half.
He wears a dose-fitting black cloth cap over
a shook of reddish hair; round his neck he
has a coloured cotton kerchief, of the sort
advertised as ** Imitetion Silk." His black
coat is much torn, and his broom is at pre-
sent remarkably stumpy. He waits quietly
at the post opposite St. ^'s Church, to re-
ceive whatever is ofiered him. He is unas-
suming enough in his manner, and, as will be
seen, not even bearing any malice against his
two enemies, '* The Swatestuff Man" and
" The Switzer." He says :—

(« I've been at this crossin' near upon two year.
Whin I first come over to England (about two
years and a half ago), I wint a haymakin',
but, you see, I couldn't get any work; and
afther thrampin' about a good bit, why my
eyesight gettin' very wake, and I not knowin'
what to do, I took this crossin*.

«* How did I get it ?— Will, sir, I wint walkin'
about and saw it, and nobody on it. So one
momin' I brought a broom wid me and stood
here. Yes, sir, I was intherfered wid. The
man with one arm— a Switzer they calls him
— he had had the crossin' on Sundays for a
long while gone, and he didn't like my bein'

here at all, at all. * B y Irish* he used to

call me, and other scandalizin* names; and
he and the swatestuff man opposite, who was
a friend of his, tried everythin' they could to
git me off the crossin*. But sure I niver
harrumed them at all, at alL

** Yis, sir, I have my rigular custhomers :

there's Mr. , he's gone to Sydenham ; he's

very kind, sir. He gives me a shiUing a-
month. He left worrud with the sarvint
while he's away to give me a shilling on the
first day in eveiy month. He gave me * letter

hOShOK L AMOUR ANi) THE LOhJ/OS POOSl.

to eii« Ejra Hofi|yilalt In Goftldco Square be-
n»«iHe of t1i« fvmkeaflH of mj eyesigbt; Uat
lliejril fiiTer tiire it at aU, ai sH^ nr, fOT wmlte
mfm rtiDfl in zdj EuQiIy- Mj fififiir. MT, b»fi
wakt «v€« T Hbe is working tA. Orafdoo.

** Oh no, itiile«d, ODd ii isD^ 1fa» pntUftafcB
l2tal tbij to get me off tlie ^roaam'; tlic^j'd
Tntlicr ahiipport in©, sir, Birt tht |KMirpftjple
it is ihmt dout like me,

'' £i^hteei]piiic« iVa mftde in n diT^ and
JUfflFte L niver aQ.c»% thau twc» shiJIiDgA, mid
•otiietinico not mnccoc- Will, sir^ I am z&ot
Mlt« t^e odieis ; I don't ma afUMr iht ladks

di^ 1 took sixiieia<?e| hf dMnoSr Der
hi^gji^ fur ■. iMdf . Tb€ day li«faw ^essbA'^
^ ilmj I took tht«e lia'peDC^ ; but X tiris^ I got
^ometiim- eke for a bit of -vrormk tliua*

•^ XflH, «iiilh>e7 i« belter thAH sumnier, I
don't know -ft liich people is I lie most UberaJ,
Surci iir, I don't tfciii there's much (lifft^r-

Rr>rTit'tir»n?!S^ m\A so wx* y twang ladLe*, rerhApj
ultl liidii^ otr old ^iuLlc^m^si jj;iv« tho mott at a
tmi4^, — ^sometimes sixpettce^^ — pedu^ More ;
it at lUlu, SIT} jQn don't git anytbiAg ^e for a
long thne-

" Tim boj'5rwei>pfirs imiioy tne "Fery HHXph^
tndecki; they use Bwi*h Et^ositlalum* wormds*
tD uie, ond thrtjw dirmt, they do. 1'hev
know whin the pt^Uce is otit of the wbTj t^o I
git no pnrtietioia,

" Sure, sir, ond I thltik it right that iireTy
per^d should nltind the irorrtiiihip to which
he bohanpfH, I mn. n CMholic^ BiT^ aod Rt^d
iDAes nt St* Piithrjck'Sj nei^ St, (Hles^s, weTj
Simdayt and I tJiry to bo at eonfisaion woaat a
month.

•* Yfhm Unit I took to the croflsm', I -wm
rftUior irrigular; bat tbm was becauise of llie
Switeer mim — that's the lusn w'ith the one
arni ; he used to shv be would ioek me tip,
and iveTytbio^. But I have been rtgnLof
Binee,

'* I cofnc in Ibe mtTmiuing just before
mghU in time to cntch the j^iuileftilkB goini^
into pray el's; nad I leave ai half-pG^ a^v^u
to eight act i^igbt, T. wntt ^o l&te becatiiie T
have to bring fl gintJcmon wi^ther for hb
flowers^ and thnt I do Ih^ hi^^t tbfog.

" I ILvej mTf m hme, bdiitid St, Giles's

Chureh, in the first -fl ore ^nt sir; and I poy
one-rmd-threepenee jv-week. There nre three
tridfi in the Tfiom, In i9ne bid^ a tnan, his
wifi% hig tiiolher^ end their lit tlf girl ^ Julia,
tbey call her^ — sleep j in the other bid, tbcsre's
a man And his wife and ehild, I'e^, I sni
feinprle, aud huve the third hid to myself. I
come from County Gcirruk ; the othi^re iu tlbe
rr»om ore all Iri^^h^ and come from County
Corruk too. ITaey Bill fruit in the sthreet;
in the winther they sili onions ^ nnd sometimes
oriuTPfe«.

•* 'There a Scotch gintlemim as brings me
my breakfast ei^ry luoouDg ; indeed^ yes, and
b« biitkga it hiniAelfr he d^es. He has i^ne

to SeoUflnd n<m^ hut he viU be Im^ m a
wedk. Be bring;s me momm htovd and tnote,
and A pinny for a half iBsnt of beer, sir, H«
haA dune it aimost all th« tttne I bare been
here*

**■ The Switzer man, sir, intyk o^ boaitls for
the Pififtickmff^ or 9om« plaee like lli&L He
gol fifteen shilling:^ a- week, and used to c«me
liere on BoniayA* Ye«t sir, / flmw hero- on
Sundays; but ft i^ not be^er flink fiCber dAjs.
Some people saya to me, tbegr woniA rsifjet' I
wfint f JO ebnrch ; hm I tulb 'em I 4o ; a&d
stire, sir, arrh*?r niAss^ tJiere's no harruni in a
htrJe swuepin' between whiles,

** Ne» eir» tliere"* not a x^Tofmtt-'WHmBpm in
Duld Ireland* Well. «h-^ I nii^er woa m Bub-
Hn; but I've l>«en in Cermk, dr, atid they
don't haYe any rroesin* swollen iSiM*

** IVhin I git home of & night, air, I am
vtOT tiT¥4 T hut I ahroy* o^r np tny dov^Kioias
bffOTe sleepiu*. Ab, sir, I skoiM aifer liavis
<rwipt eros^n's if a friend (if tamt hiaAs*t died;
he was eoUetstor of iolb In ClttM^fiaitek Md I
vised to be with him. He lost hk 1
and Ao I Gom& to England,

"The Swit^er man, I think he Jga^ to emeep
at eight o'dock, just as the people were froin'
t& praysB. Otej mt, he was tH»s% black*
gejArdia" m^ * Go back to your mm eocm*
thiT.' say% he^^A fitrnner himfiilf, lew.

** WiU, y«B sir, I do wiEh for bad Treatbi^;
ft good wit dtij, and a dry day afUier, is the
best*

** Snre imd they cant turn me off my erossin'
only for my bad conduct, a^d I thry to be
quiet and take no noliee*

** Yi% fiir* I huTe nlways been a church jjoct,
and 1 (uii serentY-fi^e. 1 used to bave some
good tignlor etwt-onaenfl., but KOmohow 1 hftvea't
Aeen nuythin' of thcra fur this Inst twelve-
month. Ah I it's in the bettber neigbbtmr-
hocKb that pftople give rigiilorly, I nivirr get
any l*rokeu Ttctuahi. Three- ond-sijcptmi^e is
the outside of mj earnings^ taking cane week
with the other.

** What i^ the laste I ever took f Wi3J» m,
for threo days I ba^'eu't tAki?n a forttiin^ The
worast week I iver bad was thiitccn or four-
teen penca altogether ; tbo best wweJt I iirer
had waK tJje wrntcr before la^t — tlmt lifBVitdi
winter, sir, I remember tcikiu* seven sbilUap
thin ; bnt tlie man at Fortman-aqaan? intikm
the most*

" Well J sir^ I Mave theiie'a ffoiBa af ^Tei^
nation iu the world rs swoepa cbbssh"! in
London."

The rcsiAi^ Imsti CRossm^-STTEi^Eii.

In a Btreet uot f^ from Gqrdan-A^nairB and
the Newroeid, T found this poor old iromizi
re^ng ftoin her daily labour. She iuvs sit-
ting on tii« stone lediu^e of the iron raihngs at
the corner of the street, huddled up iu the
way seemini^l)'^ nattitid to old Iris^ women, her
broom hidden as much as poissible vrkd^ bar

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOM.

4&ii

pettiooftta. Her shawl was as tidy as possible
far its age. She was sixty-seyen years, and
had bnxied two husbands and five ohildzen,
fraetmnd her riba, and injured her groin, and
had nothing left to comfort her but her cross-
ing, her hatKirth of snofl^ and her *' drop of
biled wather," by which name she indicated
her"t^.»

She was very eivil and intelligent, and an-
swered my inqoiries very readily, and with
rather less oircnmlocution than the Irish
generally display. She seemed mach hurt at
Qie closing of tlie Old St. Poncras churehyard.
**They buried my child where they'll never
boryme, sir," she cried.

She told the story of her accident with
many involuntary movements of her hand to-
wards the injured part, and took a sparing
pinch of snutr from a little black snuif-box,
inlaid with mother-of-pearl, for which she
said she had given a penny. She x>roceeded
thus :— "I'm an Irishwoman, sir, and it's from
Kinsale I come, twelve miles beyond Corruk,
to the left-hand side, a seaport town, and a
great place for fish. It's fifty years the six-
teenth of last June since I came in St. Giles's
parish, and there my ildest child wint
did. Buried she is in Ould St Pancras
churchyarrud, where they'll never bury me,
sir, for they've done away with burying in
churchyaiTuds. That girl was fbrty-one year
of age the seventeenth of last February,
bom in Stratford, below Bow, in Essex. Ah !
I was comfortable there ; I lived there three

year and abouts. I was in sorvicc at Mx. 's,

a Frinch gindeman he was, and kept a school,
where they Uught Frinch and English both ;
but I dare say they are all gone did years ago.
He was a very ould gintleman, and so was his
lady; she was a North -of-Englond lady, but
veiy stout, and had no children but a son and
daughter. I was quite young when my aunt
brought me over. My uncle was three year
here before my aunt, and he died at White-
chapel. I was bechuxt sixteen and seventeen
when I come over, and I reckon meself at
sixty-seven come next Christmas, as well as I
can guess. I never had a mother, sir; she
died when I was only six months old. My
father, sir, was maltster to Mr. Walker the dis-
tiller, in Gormk. Ah ! indeed, and my father
was well to do wonst Early or late, wit or
dry, he had a guinea a-week, but he worruked
day and night; he was to attind to the corun,
and he would have four min, or five or six,
undther him, according as busy they might
be. My father has be^ did four-and-twinty
year, and I wouldn't know a crature if I wint
home. Father come over, sir, and wanted me
to go back very bad, but I wouldn't. I was
married thin, and had buried some of my
ohilderin St Pancras; and for what should
Ilave England?

*' Oh 1 sir, I buried three in eight months,
— two sons and their father. My husband was
two year and tin months keeping his bed ; he

iias been did fifteen years to the eighth of last
March ; but Tve been maxried again.

'* Siven childer Pve had, and ounly two
alive, and they've got enough to do to manage
for thimsilves. The boy, he foUers the mar-
ket, and my danghter, ^e is along with her
husband ; sure he sills in the streets, sir. I
see very little of her, — she lives over in the
Borough.

*' I think 111 be afbher going down to Kent,
beyant Maidstone, a hop-picking, if I can git
as much as to take me down tbe road.

*' My daughter's husband and me dont agree,
so I'm bitter not to see tliem.

" Iveiy day, sir — ivery day in the week I
am here. This morunning I was here at eight
— that was earher than usual, but I came out
because I had not broke my fast with anjrthmg
but a drop of wather, and Uiat I had two tum-
blers of it from the house at the corrunner.
I intind to go home and take two hirrings,
and have a dbrop of biled wather — tayj I mane,
sir.

"I come here at about half-past nine to
half-past ten, but I'm gitting a very bad leg.
I goes home about five or six.

'^ I have taken two ha'pennies this morning ;
thruppence I took yisterday ; the day before I
took, I think, fourpence ha'penny ; Uiat was my
taking on Monday ; on Sunday I mustered a
shilling ; on Saturday — I declare, sir, I forgit
— ^fourpence or thruppence, I suppose, but my
frinds is out of town very much. They gives
me a penny rigular every Sunday, or a ha'penny,
and some tuppence. Of a Sunday in the gooid
time I may take eighteenpenoe or sixteen-
pence.

*• Oh, yes, of Christmas it's better, it is—
four or five shillings on a Christmas-day.

'* On the Monday fortnight, before last
Christmas twelvemonth, I had two ribs broke,
and one fractured, and my grine (groin) bone
iojured. Oh ! tlie pains that I feel even now,
sir. I lived tben in Phillip's-gardens, up there
in the New-road. The policeman took me to
the hospital. It was eighteen days I nivor
got ofi* my bid. I came out in the morunning
of the Christmas-eve. I hild on by the rail-
ings as I wint along, and I thought I niver
should git home. How I was knocked down
was by a cart ; I had my eye bad thin, the lift
one, and had a cloth over it. I was just comin'
out of the archway of the courrot (close by

the beer-shop) away firom Mr. *s house,

when crossing to the green-grocer's to git two
pound of praties for my supper, I didn't see
the cart comin'. I was knocked down by the
shaft They called, and they called, and he
wouldn't stop, and it wint over me, it did. It
was loaded with cloth ; I don't know if it wasn't
a Shoolbred's cart but the boy said to the hos-
pital-doctor and to the policeman it was heavily
loaded. The boy gave me a shilling, and that
was all the money I received. For a twelve-
month I couldn't hardly walk.

*' On that Christmas-day I took fbur-«iid-tiii*

M I ^gmti ii ill lev mt ami. Iliiiigs ;
I tin mum i&'i a good mfta ihat let ine iim

«lsiiaiUafo*1iiwgitf WcH, tkin, sir,
tliAn^ am pntfemai, IvvA. htf^ out of town — ^
Hr G«oi9ft fi«ffjsi — ^ninir pvsfet triih^^ot

** I ht^wB tdten ooe-uid-Dizi^pexiee oa ft Sim-
^f , aad I've ukeii two %hillui'& Upon obj
#o«L Tn oflea gtni« hooitf wiUi t&iv* Hft*|»eac#
ttml tappexMev For fltiA monib |«mv p&t irfefj
4Ay tofctbtir, I Imviwt taksiL t^M s^iUisg

" 1 wear fevo teoons out ui « w«ek la liwd
vUk«rt md Una pfttsps I t^ke torn u» &Te
■MEUdV SflPdiif indJBdcd: tnti for the ibfe«
ymr ilMt bws rt« ben oo Uiii «mm*« I
1119)17 Iook tm ****"***'*. mv lUT'cr*

* Tea, Umi^ was > man lk«f« before me : he
liad bad ej^ ABid Ike W9A etillgat«d to lara sad
pe into tbi0 wfitTTjkboQM ; be W^ tbe sigbt of
MM of blflt ey«9 when be cAm£i bsck ^gaiii. J
}sa»w Mm ^w^epm' hf^re a kiDg lime, Wben
be oone buk^ I said, * Ttther; »ftjs I, ' 1 viat
«■ joi^ ttossia V ^ Ahf* Jiofs be. ' jou^r^ got a
liad eios«m'^ pOi^r woa^aii ; I wonil^\ f o ao
U agatu* 1 wouldQT;' and 1 niver ^^eo him
aioccL I doat Iciiov vlietbee bt is linag or

fin and coold wttier. a&d I Bn^ it do toe tt
votndd of |K>od* Sometiiiiea I git enough to
eat, but budfy, iibdaa< I canl pt i^&t. I d£~
cIatc I don't baov wbicb paople gm: the most ;
the ^Qdifmea pre me inocc in wit wttbar^ to
then Ih*! lodiei, f&a mm^tuii% kt tbdr dreEses
out of their hjinds.

*« I am a CMhcilie, air. I go to St- Patbiicik'*
aoDietixnaa, or I go to Gt^rdon-^tz^^t ChioTwxh*
I dotil ears wbich I S!0 id— iri all the satne
to nac; bm 1 hav^nl been lo ehufindi for
iBonibB, Tw^ moMkaxtg^ to ^arge ntjmlf ^v^di
mdv iiuleedv I Ihaieii'i been to eon&askMi for

fovipeiioe or ^pp&im

, 1 liAva koard of erosnn'-awecpeirs
maktn' «o iDueb and so mneb- I be«r people
talkm* aboDt it, but, for my pamic^ I voaltlu*!
give beed tci wfvnt ttae]r stf. In O^ord-stieet,
tcrwards the Parraks, there Mi^ a KnaAt jears
ag€h, thej eaj. bj all accouxit^ left a dale of
tnonej'.

*■ I am niter anno^^ed hj boj<;. I don't
epake to lione of Ihem. I wa^ in f^anice till I
got tnatfied, thin I u^-d to fill fniit through
KentLsh Town, lligligale, aud Hamp^tead;
but I niver BOi^d in tbe streets, idr, and bad
mj tigular customers Uke aoy gi^eeogroeer. I
Itad a good ooimiidoii, I bail; bnl, bjr Siting
old and fceblei and sJc-ik, and not iK^ing ^lile to
go abdtltf I wa^ fomisSM^d to gcive it up^ I was.
I couldn't eaiTt twi^lve pound uj^on my liid--
nOi not if I wa3 to get a sov'dn a-ihi}' f6r it,

IftOW.

** I nivcr Iftve tlie erossin', I haven t got a
fiind ; nor a day'K pleaatire I niwer tak«,

** Ob» ye»| sir, I ni*i>t hnte a pindi^ — tJjis h
tnj snu£r-bo:i. 1 take a ha'porlh a^rlAVT and
that'fl the onl.f eomforrut I ve got — thnt and a
eup of taj ; for I can't dthrink cocoa or coffee-
lav.

** My feeding h a hit of brid and butther. I
hnv^n't bought a bit of juate tbego three
fU^nths, I u:se«l to f^it two pr-nn'orth of bonan
and mate at Mrs. Bnker'j, down there ; but
mate is ^o dear, thrtt tLit:;y don't liave *em now,
and it's ashamed I am of bofherin" thini so
often. I freqnintly havo a hiirin'. Oh duari
no HIT. ^'athei i^ tnj dlliriuk. I ean*t atrormd
fiv bear. Sonaetiiuea I Irnve a paan'cntb of

mme feat-.
*' Ttadeipeopk an retf Idod, indeed tb^

•* Yea, I think Til ro to Kint a hop^pickni* ;
and « fof m J eroasni% I Iati^ It., sir^ jun a»
it Ilk I go #te milei bejaiii Maidaione, I

wonnkied JlH^n yean at Mr. ; he w«$ a

poie-poller and binaman in tlie bo^ ground.

**r%« not b«e<!ii down tiiera axnoe the )eai-
East. I was too poOi|j after tha^ aeci-
We make aboiit edffttecnfiiDce, tvo
fibillin^ or one aliiltin*, *eai%i|g aa Cbe bops
La good. No kkdginf not fire to pay ; and we
git pUotT of ^ood muk eh^»e thefe«. I manage
Uiin to aare a little money to hilp v^ in the
winth^4

** 1 yTe in st^<ee% Sxwea Diala; bat Im

gnisg to laTe my eoiK-we can^ 40^^ We
Im in the two-pair bade I p^y nothing
a^weeki only bring home i^^sij ha'penny to
blip tJiim, Sometimes I £pind a pitmj or
tuppctice out en my^iilt

" My sou h doiu' rety bftd^. He ailk fnrit
in tliL' j^threet.^ ; but he's niver been used to
it before ; anil be has puns in Ms limbs with
so much i^olking^ He haa do coojuxion^ and
with the fithrawhirrie^ now be^9 fomised to
walk about of a night as will as a day, for they
wont keep till the morrunniug ; they aO go
tnouldy and bad. Mj rou ha.^^ been used to
t)ie bdcklaving, ^ir : he can lit in a stote or a
eopper, or do a bit of pbisther or latb, Gs the
like, Hb wife Is a fery just, eUna, dobcr
woman, and he has g:ot three good diilder;
tliere is Catherine^ who la named aAher tne,
she is nearly firet Ulen^ two years and £ti
montbo, named after her mother; and Mar-
garet^ the tiaWf six months oiild— ^and sb« iS
called alther my daughter, who Is did.*

i. Tax OccAsio!ziL Cuoaaiso-SiTEKfSEa.

The Sr^ii^Y CnosstKO-Sw^EFES.

^I'M a Sunday crosahig-Bweeper,'' said an
oy^ter-stall keeper^ in answer to my inquiries.
** I mean by th^t, I on]y sweep a cros^sing on a
Sunday* I pitch in the I^ommore road^ New-
ingtou, with a few oysters on week-da^^'is, and
E doeft jobs fen: the people about there, sich as
cleaning a few knives and forks, or shoeft and
boots, and windows. Ire been in the habit
of sweeping a crtna^ng about four or fire
yeiira*

i_

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR,

480

" I neTer knowed my father, he died when
I was a baby. He was a 'terpreter, and
spoke seven different languages. My father
used to go with Bonaparte's array, and used
to 'terpret for him. He died in the South
of France. I had a brother, but he died
quite a chUd, and my mother supported me
and a sister by being cook in a gentleman's
family : we was put out to nurse. My mother
couldn't afford to put me to school, and so
I can't read nor write. I'm forty-one years
old.

"The fust work I ever did was being
boy at a pork-butcher's. I used to take out
the meat wot was ordered. At last my
master got broke up, and I was discharged
firom my place, and I took to sellin' a few
sprats. I had no thoughts of taking to a
crossing then. I was ten year old. I re-
member I give two shillings for a * shallow ; '
that's a flat basket with two handles; they
put 'em a top of * well- baskets,' them as can
carry a good load. A well- basket's almost
like a coffin; it's a long un like a shallow,
on'y it's a good deal deeper — about as deep as
a washin' tub. I done very fair with my
sprats till they got dear and come up very
small, so then I was obliged to get a few
plaice, and then I got a few baked 'taters
and sold them. I hadn't money enough to
buy a tin — I could a got one for eight shil-
lings— so I put 'em in a cross-handle basket,
and carried 'em round the streets, and into
public-houses, and cried "Baked taters, all
hot ! ' I used only to do thi& of a night, and
it brought me about four or five shillings a-
week. I used to fill up the day by going
round to gentlemen's houses where I was
known, to run for errands and clean knives
and boots, and that brought me sich a thing
as four shillings a-week more altogether.

"I never had no idea then of sweeping a
crossing of a Sunday; but at last I was obliged
to push to it. I kept on like this for many
years, and at last a gentleman named Mr.
Jackson promised to buy me a tin, but he
died. My mother went blind through a
blight ; that was the cause of my fust going
out to work, and so I had to keep her ; but I
didn't mind that : I thought it was my duty so
to do.

"About ten years ago I got married; my
wife used to go out washing and ironing. I
thought two of us would get on better than
one, and she didn't mind helpin' me to keep
my mother, for I was determined my mother
shouldn't go into the workhouse so long as
I could hdp it.

"A year or two after I got married, I
foimd I must do something more to help to
keep home, and then I fust thought of
sweepin* a crossing on Sundnys; so I bought
a heath broom for twopence-ha'penny, and I
pitched agin' the Canterbury Arms, Kenning-
ton; it was between a baker's shop and a
public-house and butcher's; they told me

they'd all give me something if I'd sweep the
crossing reg'lar.

**The b^t places is in front of chapels
and churches, 'cause you can take more
money in front of a church or a chapel
than wot you can in a private road, 'cos
they look at it more, and a good many thinks
when you sweeps in front of a public-house
that yon go and si)end your money inside in
waste.

** The first Sunday I went at it, I took
eighteenpence. I began at nine o'clock in the
morning and stopped till four in the after-
noon. The publican g^ve fourpence, and the
baker sixpence, and t^e butcher threepence,
60 that altogether I got above a half-crown.
I stopped at this crossing a year, and I always
knocked up about two shillings or a half-
crown on the Sunday. I very seldom got
anythink from the ladies ; it was most all
give by the gentlemen. Little children used
sometimes to give me ha'pence, but it was
when their faUier give it to 'em ; the little
children like to do that sort of thing.

"The way I come to leave this crossing
was this here : the road was being repaired,
and they shot down a lot of stones, so then I
couldn't sweep no crossing. I looked out for
another place, and I went opposite the Duke
of Sutherland public-house in the Lorrimore-
road. I swept there one Sunday, and I got
about one-and-sixpence. While I was sweep-
ing this crossing, a gentleman comes up to me,
and he axes me if I ever goes to chapel or
church; and I tells him, *Yes;' I goes to
church, wot Td been brought up to ; and then
he says, * You let me see you at St. Michael's
Church, Brixton, and I'll 'courage you, and
you'll do better if you come up and sweep
in front there of a Sunday instead of where
you are; you'll be sure to get more money,
and get better 'couraged. It don't matter
what you do,' he sajrs, * as long as it brings
you in a honest crust ; anythink's better than
thieving.* And then the gent gives me six-
pence and goes away.

"As soon as he'd gone I started off to
his church, and got there just after the
people was all in. I left my broom in the
churchyard. "When I got inside the church,
I could see him a-sitten jest agin the com-
munion table, so I walks to the free seats and
sets down right close again the communion
table myself^ for his pew was on my right, and
he saw me directly and looked and smiled at
me. As he was coming out of the church
he says, says he, * As long as I live, if you
comes here on a Sunday reg'lar I shall always
'courage you.*

" The next Sunday I went up to the church
and swept the crossing, and he see me there,
but he didn't give me nothink till the church
was over, and then he gave me a shilling, and
the other people give me about one-and-six-
pence ; so I got about two-and-sixpence altoge-
ther, and I thought that was a good beginning.

1

LONDO^r ZABOVm ANB THB LONDON POOR.

^Tbe next Simdrnx the gen'dmaii was ilU
Imi he dulnl fofiget me* He vent me six^
peijii?«! bj Mi vertRDt), nnd F got frmn 1h<? otlif^r
lift ttfriMlt tiro 9hallti]^ m(»re. I nerf^r ^tf
fmllemMi, after for be tU^ ciD llie 5a^
ij^ nu wy^ aciii fior me ua til£ BundA? ;
wns 11 fl^be^ flBd I Me ee* <if tti9 dnu^.
tMi^ ind she fdte ii» liEfaaee^ iml siyd I
VM to be th^v on UMlAlMMnaitjf. I went

4Bi 1 >M Aa dWMI^tir v^Wi- She guvc me^
WiBml>''flf'44[^ Mft told me to com« on tlie
]PH4i^t fltti ifltetr t iP^nt mi th&t duf I fi>imd
th« old l&dT was li^n^l. The daughter pite
me ft CK^t, imd CToa^r% miii wm^Icjoo^

*^ AdiT the daaghtiT'TS' had biiried tb? fatb^*
ttad tSjplb«r thej moved. I \^i on sweepinj?
■1^0 dnibiltt SI im tibiiq>gDi m b^d
ttiil «M» M^f, teoolo^imaB aotJiiiik.

|pi0|lb wouldn't HTe in 'eoa*
■ ^%» Uim I eome up into LoRtmocv^nMil,
I>0 b^fin ever iomm, X dont i«t
well ib ere. 8«tf^aftMBmit

4i^mm ^ diflltai ttHiiioiitrtt
Mb Iteiaort futt took k ilioafe'

there ts, boMB^XlB^fciRrwii thefi^ fVLMife I
9f mids thefti- tft Ite week nUinf 1||MKs,
uml the peoA ^iM^ttlM-lfHrato^^ fMHl
ntnitv job«. 9iMMb 4l» IHH li Vtfhir Im
Uittr^ ftDd: ifei^ l&ft to* li»«^ s dMB fiwmm
in^ of A fimdirf •

^ [ dcnit fet my mofe mcnifl^' in tlM winter
(though ii'H mudili^) tlum I do in the mrnn*
m^r ibe ivnsun m^ Vaiimt th^re* knt »li miav
|ie0ple stimng abfrnt in the wioter as there b
m the Bimiiner.

'^ One broom will eoffj ma otqt three Sqd^
d^B, and I gives twopenrs-hn'^peimj A-piec^
for 'em. Sinnetimes the people bring me ont
Al TfiT crossing ^ — ''tpeeially In cold weather — a
mng oif hot t^a anil some bread fmd bntter, or
a bit of mC'Bt, I don't know ai^ rather cxtsss-
ing-sweeper j I nt^rer *wanwi/m with nobody, 1
alwajs keep^ my oirn t^nnseli and lik^s mjr
own eompanj the be«t

** My wife* be^n dead fire mcMaths, and my
mother six months ; bnl I've g ol a UttLs boy
Sereii yenr old i ba atops ^ school ail day till
X go home «t night, luid then I ferti^hea him
homfi. I mean to do iometliiiig better with
him thfin give liim a hi^Hxm i a good many
people would set bim on a cfoisinf ; hvt I
mefin to keep hvm «t ^efaixd, I want to see
hhn read and wiitia wcdl^ b«cjitise bttH s^
l*>r ft plai^ llie!i,

** There's some &ft in si^^piD^ a oosmng
even. That 1^^ yon mustn't sw^ep too hard,
*«w if you dd^ you weara • hoie ngbt m the
rond, and then dit^ w^«(3f hiiogs is it. It's the
soma AB^ sweeping a peith; If yotl sweepe too
hard yoa wears np the sitoiiis.

' To do tt x>n>p^yt yoTi mnst pat tJie end

' boif way down ; then yon take« half yovir prun-
ing, and aweepa on one side ^U ytm g8t» n/tet
tlit^ road ; then yum turns ronad and oomeEi bade
doing* t^e other half. Some people holdi tli*
UrtMMn before 'em, ami keepe ^fwagring lit hark*
'aula and fiar'aids to swatsp the widljfe o£ the
cimdng all in asm Btit^ke^ bwt Uyit ttia\ ttek
a ;^ockI i^Lutf Vattse y^tit^ opt to ajdiMfa pscfd^
thnt's i?i«niing hj\ «id besilt^^it %cars tlte rind
in holes and weflsra out the broom «o quick. I
jklnvitT^ iL$& my broom steedy^ 1 ne>var iplmrfi
iiol»ody,

** 1 new tziad myB^ir* btit I^ e $ae0 some
ciMXsin'-inreepen as coiiid do all mmmier of
things in mad, sieh as diamonds* iLnd
imd the moon, and letter? of llii?
and once in (>x.|brd'»tr&et I &ee our
on hi^ vKxm in nmi, «id it wva done ifcfl,
too. The igmie wMva't done ^ith tlie bfoooi^
it Willi done wjiln ftpeinled piece of ^tiolc ; it
WHS a boy ji» I B«>e doin' it^ nboai AHaen^ Be
didn't 909m to lake mn^'li^ mxancj wNdd I w««
a^lookmg at bim. .

* I dfMit think I thjonlfi & to^Jito iwrpoip-'
sntcfong if I haii«% M liornedi bnl^ itan
N pH » couple of dHMH ifur I\« h^ &
gill di«; if she'd fiiwi^itterd & beoL ^jhl
yefir old ninr^} I fcmud I miia& #i tonaii^
thiffeV Aail BA I tAok t£» thu hroimi«? ^ ^ ;

Tms WooiKSW-i£G«Kn Swwkwmm,

Thsb man liip^ op a little eont nmniiig om of
a wide, secon d^rato sli^eeL It le a tmill oosn,
ronsaaunic gf some balT-doaen kouses, all of
them what ore called by eonrt^sy ** piivate^^

I in^nir^d at No. 3 for John. ; » Thft

fkat-flcNor back, if yon pleaeai, sir ; "^ end u» th«
iir«t-door back I wenL

Here I wiyi answered hj a good4odBBig liid
intelligent young woman^ with * bftby, "wha
said het htisbend had not yet tome h^met kot
^vodd I walk in and wait* I did ao; Mid
foiind myself in a Terr small, (done loimi,
with a hide ftimiture, wbkli the man called
*' hb few slicks,'' and pne^ently diacevtved
another child — e little girt The girt wm ve^
shy in ber manner, b^ng only two yee^ and
two months old, and us her molhcx eoid, Tcry
ailing from the diJ£culty of oiitiag hm teed],
though the yrtie canse a^emed to he ntnt tji
proper nonoiduneBl and ^^^ah air. The bohj
boy — a fine, eheerfnly good4em^end
Utile fellow, hnt raUi^* psl^ aod wiUi on uiu
natiumllj lar^ foreheads The mantelpiece
of th^ room wss filled with little or&Mnmiia of
ToruittB fiortSf am^ti es beed-^boj^kets^ and ov^r
them hong a senes^ of bia<ik profiJea — not
portmits of cither tlie c^s^&ing -sweeper or
any of Ixis family, bat on odd lot of lie«d!^
which bad lost thek owaert mmky a year, and
seri-ed, in company with n little t^t g^*^^*

f

of the biwim-hiuulle in ^le palm of your right imd jeUow smptnre-piecer to keep the waE
homl} ftnd lay hold of iA widi your iefl» abottt Ibcim'hinkinff bu«« O^ the d«t£ir ^inoade th^

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

487

room) was nailed a horae-shoe, which, the
w^e told me, had heen pot there by her hus-
hand, for lack.

A bed, two deal tables, a coaple of boxes, and
three chairs, formed the entire fomitmre of the
room, and nearly filled it. On the window-
frame was hnng a small shaving-glass; and
on the two hemes stood a wicker-work apology
for a perambnlator, in which I learnt the
poor crippled man took out his only daughter
at half-past four in the morning.

** If some people was to see that, sir,'* said
the sweeper, when he entered and saw me
lookmg at it, '* they would, and in fact they do
stcj, • Why, you can't bo in want.' Ah ! little
they know how we starved and pinched our-
selves before we could get it"

There was a fire in the room, notwithstand-
ing the day was very hot; but the window was
wide open, and the place tolerably ventilated,
though oppressive. I have been in many
poor people's "places,** but never remember
one so poor in its appointments and yet so
free from effluvia.

The crossing-sweeper himself was a very
civil sort of man, and in answer to my in-
quiiiessaid: —

" I know that I do as I ought to, and so I
don't feel hurt at standing at my crossing. I
have been there four years. I found the place
vacant. My wife, though she looks very well,
will never be able to do any hard work ; so we
sold our mangle, and I took to the crossing :
but we're not in debt, and nobody can 't say
nothing to us. I like to go along the streets
free of such remarks as is made by people to
whom you owes money. I had a mangle in

Yard, but through my wife's weakness 1

was forced to part with it. I was on the cross-
ing a short time before that, for I knew that
if I parted with my mangle and things before
I knew whether I could get a living at the
crossing I couldn't get my mangle back again.

"We sold the mangle only for a sovereign,
and we gave two-pound-ten for it; we sold it
to the same man that we bought it of. About
six months ago I managed for to screw and
save enough to buy that little wicker chaise,
for I can't carry the children because of my
one leg, and of course the mother can't can7
them both out together. There was a man
had the crossing I've got; he died three or
four years before I took it ; but ho didn't de-
pend on the crossing — he did things for the
tradespeople about, such as carpet-beating,
messages, and so on.

" When I first took the crossing I did ver}*
well. It happened to be a very nasty, dirty
season, and I took a good deal of money.
Sweepers are not always civil, sir.

" I wish I had gone to one of the squares,

though. But I think after street is paved

with stone I shall do better. I am certain I
never taste a bit of meat from one week's end
to the other. The best day I ever made was
five-and-sixpence or six shillings ; it was the

winter before last If yon remember, the snow
laid very thick on the ground, and the sadden
thaw made walking so uncomfortable, that I
did very well. I have taken as little as six-
pence, fourpence, and even twopence. Last
Thursday I took two ha'pence all day. Take
one week with the other, seven or eight >shil-
lings is the veiy outside.

'* I don't know how it is, but some people
who used to give mo a penny, dont now. The
boys who come in wet weather cam a great deal
more than I do. I once lost a good chance,
sir, at the comer of the street leading to Caven-
dish-square. There's a bank, and they pay a
man seven shillings a-week to sweep the
crossing: a butcher in. Oxford Market spoke
for me ; *but when I went up, it unfortunately
turned out that I was not fit, from the loss of
my leg. The last man they had there they
were obliged to turn away — he was so given
to drink.

"I think there are some rich crossing-
sweepers in the city, about the Exchange;
but you won't find them now during this diy
weather, except in by places. In wet weather,
there are two or three boys who sweep near
my crossing, and take all my earnings away.
There's a great able-bodied man besides — a
fellow strong enough to follow the plough. I
said to the policeman, 'Now, ain't this a shame?
and the policeman said, • Well, fu: must get
his living as well as you.' I'm always civil to
the police, and they're always ciril to me — in
fact I think sometimes I'm too civil — I'm not
rough enough with people.

•' You soon tell whether to have any hopes
of people coming across. I can tell a gentle-
man directly I see him.

" Where I stand, sir, I could get people in
trouble everlasting; there's all sorts of thieving
going on. I saw the other day two or three
respectable persons take a purse out of an old
lady's pocket before the baker's shop at tlie
comer ; but I can't say a word, or they would
come and throw me into the road. If a gen-
tleman gives me sixpence, he don't give me
any more for three weeks or a month ; but I
don't tliink I've more than three or four gen-
tlemen as gives me tliat. Well, you can
scarcely tell the gentleman from the ierk, the
clerks are such great swells now.

" Lawyers themselves dress very plain ; those
great men who don't come every day, because
they've clerks to do their business for them,
they give most. People hardly ever stop to
speak unless it is to ask you wfiere places are
— you might be occupied at that aU day. I
manage to pay my rent out of what I take on
Sunday, but not lately — this weather religi-
ous people go jfleasuring.

"No, I don't go now — the fact is, I'd like
to go to church, if I could, but when I come
home I am tired; but I've got books here, and
they do as well, sir. I read a little and write
a little.

" I lost my leg through ft swelling — there

No. LIV.

^ ^

■• I -

I ■'^^

j i.::ii.r-iji i :

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR,

489

luid all the appearance of a boy — his raw-look-
ing eyes, wMch he was always wiping with a
piece of linen rag, gave him a forbidding ex-
pression, which his shapeless, short, bridgeless
nose tended to increase. But his manners and
habits were as simple in their character as
those of a child ; and he spoke of his father's
being angry with him for not getting up
before, as if he were a little boy talking of his
Burse.

He walks, with great difficulty, by the help
of a crutch ; and the sight of his weak eyes,
his "withered limb, and his broken shoulder
(his old helpless mother, and his gasping,
almost inaudible father,) form a most painful
subject for compassion.

The crossing-sweeper gave me, with no little
meekness and some slight intelligence, the
following statement: —

" I very seldom go out on a crossui' o' Sun-
days. I didn't do much good at it I used to
go to church of a Sunday — in fact, 1 do now
when I'm well enough.

" It's fifteen year next January since I left
Bcgent-street. I was there three years, and
then I went on Sundays occasionally. Some-
times I used to get a shilling, but I have given
it up now — it didn't answer; besides, a lady
who was kind to me found me out, and said
she wouldn't do any more for me if I went out
on Simdays. She's been dead these three or
four years now.

*' When I was at Regent-street I might have
made twelve shillings a-week, or something
thereabout.

" I am seven-and-thirty the 20th day of last
month, and I have been lame six-and-twenty
j-ears. My eyes have been bad ever since my
birth. The scrofulous disease it was that
lamed me — it come with a swelling on the
knee, and the outside wound broke about the
nize of a crown piece, and a piece of bone come
from it ; then it gathered in the inside and at
the top. I didn't go into the hospital then,
but I was an out-patient, for the doctor said a
•close confined place wovddn't do me no good.
He said that the seaside would, though ; but
my parents couldn't afford to send me, and
that's how it is. I did go to Brighton and
Margate nine years after my leg was bad, but
it was too late then.

** I have been in Middlesex Hospital, with a
broken collar-bone, when I was knocked down
by a cab. I was in a fortnight there, and I
^as in again when I hurt my leg. I was
sweeping my crossin* when the top came off
my crutch. I fell back'ards, and my leg
doubled under me. They had to cany me
there. ,

*' I went into the Middlesex Hospital for my
eyes and leg. I was in a month, but they
wouldn't keep me long, there's no cure for me.

*' My leg is very pamfUl, 'specially at change
of weather. Sometimes I don't get an hour's
sleep of a night— it was daylight this morning
before I dosed my eyes.

" I went on the crossing first because my
parents ^couldn't keep mc, not being able to
keep theirselves. I thought it was the best
thing I could do, but it's like all other tlungs,
it's got very bad now. I used to manage to
rub along at first — the streets have got shockin'
bad of late.

" To tell the truth, I was turned away from
Regent-street by Mr. Cook, the furrier, comer
of Argylo Street. Ill tell you as for as I was
told. He called me into his passage one
night, and said I must look out for another
crossin', for a lady, who was a very good cus-
tomer of his, refused to come while I was
there ; my heavy afflictions was such that she
didn't like the look of me. I said, *Very well;'
but because I come there next day and the
day after that, he got the policeman to turn
me away. Certainly the policeman acted very
kindly, but he said the gentleman wanted me
removed, and I must find another crossing.

" Thou I wont down Charlotte-street, oppo-
site Percy Chapel, at the corner of Windmill-
street. After that I went to Wells-street, by
getting permission of the doctor at the comer.
He thought that it would be better for me
than Charlotte-street, so he let me come.

" Ah ! there ain't so many crossing-sweepers
as there was ; I think they've done away with
a great many of them.

»*Wlien 1 first went to Wells-street, I did
pretty well, because there was a dress-maker's
at the comer, and I used to get a good deal
from the carriages that stopped before the door.
I used to take five or six shillings in a day
then, and I don't take so much in a week now.
I tell you what I made this week. I've made
one-and-fourpence, but it's been so wet, and
people are out of town ; but, of course, it's not
always ahke — sometimes I get thrce-and-six-
pence or four shillings. Some people gives
me a sixpence or a fourpenny-bit ; 1 reckons
that all in.

'* I am dreadful tired when I comes home of
a night. Thank God my other leg's all right !
I wish the t'other was as strong, but it never
will be now.

"The police never try to turn me away;
they're very friendly, they'll pass the time of
day with me, or that, from knowing me so long
in Oxford-street.

" My broom sometimes serves me a month ;
of course, they don't last long now it's showery
weather. I give twopence-halfpenny a piece
for 'em, or threepence.

" I don't know who gives me the most ; my
eyes are so bad I can't see. I think, though,
upon an average, the gentlemen give most.

" Often I hear the children, as tLey are going
by, ask their mothers for something to give to
me; but they only say, *Come along — oome
along ! ' It's very rare that they lets the
children have a ha'penny to give me.

*' My mother is seventy the week before next
Christmas. She can't do much now ; she does
though go out on Wednesdays or Saturdays,

400

LONDON LABOUR AND TBS LONDON POOB.

Irat thaft^ii to people she'* known tat yean who
fa attached to her. She does her woifc there
Just as she likes.

"Sometimes she gets a little washing —
sometimes not* This week she had a littlet
and was foroed to diy it indoors; but that
makes 'em half dirty again.

«* My fiuhei's breath is so bad that he cant
do anything except little odd jobs for people
down heie ; but tney've pot the knack now, a
good many on *em, of doin' their own.

** We have lived here fifteen years next Sen-
tember ; it's a long time to lire in such an old
wilderness, but my old mother is a sort of
woman as dont like movin' about, and I don't
like it Some people are ereriasting on the
move.

** AVhon rm not on my erossin' I sit poking
at home, or make ajob of mending my clothes.
I mended these trousers in two or three places.

** It's all done l^ feel, sir. My mother says
it's a good thing we've got our feeling at least,
if we haven't got our eyesight**

Thb Nbobo Gbossxno-Swbbpeb, who had
LOST both his Lias.

Tuxs man sweeps a crossing in a principal and
central thoronghfare when the weather is cold
enough to let him walk ; the colder the better,
He says, as it ** numbs his stumps like.* He
fa unable to follow this occupation in worm
weather, as hfa legs fool <*just like corns,"
and he cannot walk more than a mile a-day.
Under these droumstances he takes to beg-
ging, whidi he thinks he has a perfect right
to do, as ho has been left destitute in what
is to him almost a stranp^o country, aiul has
been denied what he terms ** his rights." lie
generally sits while begi?ing, drosscd in a
sailor shirt and trousers, with a block ncck(T-
chief round his neck, tied in tlio usual nauti-
cal knot He places before him the placard
which is given beneath, and never njovea a
muscle for tlie purpose of solicitinjj charity. He
always appears scrupulously clean.

I went to see him at his home early one
morning — in fact, at half past eight, but he
was not tlien up. I went again at nine, and
found him prepared for ray visit in a little par-
lour, in a dirty and^ rather disreputable alley
ninning out of a court in a street near Bnms.
wick-square. .The negro's parlour was scantily
ftimished with two chairs, a turn-up bedstead,
and a sea-chest A few odds and ends of
crockery stood on the sideboard, and a kettle
was singing over a cheerful bit of fire. The
little man was seated on a chair, ^ith his
stumps of legs sticking straight out He
showed some amount of intelligence in an-
swering my questions. We were quite alone,
for he sent his wife and child — the former a
pleasant-looking »* half-caste," and Uie latter
the cheeriest little crowing, smiling "picca-
ninny" I have ever seen — he sent them out
into the alley, while I conversed with himself.

ms lifo fa embiUved bj the idea thai he
has never vet had •*&& lufatB"— that fbe
owners of the ship in which hfa lags warn
burnt oif hare not paid him hfa wages (of
which, indeed, he sitys, he never laeeifad aiqr
but the flva pounds which ha had in adtnes
before starting), and that he has bean nbbedof
431. Ytj a groeer in Glasgow. Hour tma thsse
statements mi^ be It fa almoat in^oaaihfa t»
say, but ftom what ha saya, aoma fadnrties
seems to have been dcma him Vy the eaaay
Scotchman, who vefiuea him hfa " pej»* with-
out which he fa datsniinad ** never to faait
the eoontiy.*

•«Iwason thaterossbig,''heand, "almoBt
the whole of last winter. It waa Teqr eoU,
and I had nothing at all to do; ao»aa I pansi
there, I asked the gentleman at the Daoecr-
shop, as well as the gentleman at the oAee,
and I asked at the boot-shop, too» if they weald
let me sweep there. The pdf'
to turn me awsy, hut I went to the i
inside the ofllce, and ha told the ponoenisn to
leave me alone. The polioaman aaid fiist
' You must go away,' but I said, * I eooUbit
do anythiog eke, and ha ought to think it a
charity to let me stop.'

** I don't stop in London vaiy long; thoai^
at a time ; I go to Olasgow.in Sootlaad, whaie
the owners of the ship in which nrr fags wve
burnt off live. I served nine yens m the mer-
chant service and the navy. I waa ben fa
Kingston, in Jamaicar it fa an KiaKsh pbes,
sir, so I am counted as not a jhwlgner. rm
dii&rent from them Laaean. Iwaot to sea
when I was only nine years cM. The owners
is in London who had that ship. I was cabin-
boy ; ond after I had 6cr\'ed my time I be-
came cook, or when I couldn't get the place of
cook I went before tho mast I went as head
cook in iHSl.in tho Madnra barque; she used
to be a West Indy trader, and to trade oat
when I belonged to her. We got down to (W
soutli of Cape Horn ; and there we got almost
froze and perished to death. That is the book
what I sell."

Tho '^Book" (as he calls it) consists of
eight pages, printed on paper the size of s
sheet of note paper; it is entitled —

<* BBIEF SKETCH OF THE LIF£ OF

EDWABD ALBERT !

A native of Khigston, JamiUra

Showing the hardshipe h^ underwient and the
■ofToringBne endured in naving both legs ampatated.

HULL :

W. HOWE, PRINTEIf

it is embellished with a portrait of a blsck
man, which has evidently been in its time a
comic " nigger" of 'the Jim-Grow tobaceo-pq>er
kind, as is evidenced by the traces of a tobacco-
pipe, which has been unskilftdly erased.
The ''Book** itself is concocted from an

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOB.

49]

•ffidAYit made by Edward Albert before " P.
Mackinlay, Esq., one of Iler Ma^^s Justices
of the Peace for the country (so it ia printed)
of Lanark*"

I have seen the affidavit, and it is almost
identical with the statement in the ** book,"
excepthig in the matter of grammar, which
has rather suffered on its road to Mr. Howe,
the printer.

. The following will g^ve an idea of the
matter of which it is composed :—

'* In Febroary, 1851. 1 engaged to serve as cook on
board the barque Madeira, of Glasgow, Captain J.
I>oiigla«» on her voyage from Olatgow to Caiifomia,
theuce to China, and thence home to a port of dis-
charge in the United Kingdom. I signu<i articlca, and
delivered up my register-ticket iia a British seaman,
as required by law. I cutenxi the service on board
the said vessel, under the said engiigeroeut, and
sailed with that vessel on the 18th of Fcbru-irv, Ibbl.
I dischargod my duty as cook on board tiic Kiid
veseel. ttoxa the date of its liaving left the Clydu,
until June the same vcar. in which mouth the
vessod rounded Cape Ilorno, at tluit time my legs
bocaine frost bitten, and 1 beciime in cou^equunco
imfit for duty.

"In the course of the next day after my limbs
bocamo affected, the master of tho Tcdscl, and mate,
took mo to the ship's oven, in order, as thcv said, to
cure me ; the oven was hot at the time, a fowl that
was r«)a8tiug therein having l>cen rcmovc-d in order
to malco room for my fuet, which wom put into the
oven ; in consoqueuco of tho treat incut, my feet
burst through the intense swelling, and mortification
ensued.

" Tho vessel called, six weeks after, at Vuli^iiriso,
and I was there taken to an hoepital, where I re-
mained five months and a halU liuth uiy legs were
amputated three inches below my knees soon after
I went to the hospital at VaI{Miriso. I asked my
master for my wages due to me, for my service on
board the vessel, and deniable* I my register-ticket ;
when the captain told mo I should not recover, that
tho vessel could not wait lor me, and that I was a
dead man, and that ho couJd not ditichargu a duid
man ; and that he also said, that as I liad no Irieuds
there to got my money, he would only Ptit a little
money into tho hands of the consul, which would be
appUed in bur>-iijg me. On being discharged from
the hospital I called on tho consul, und wus Informed
by him that master had not left any money.

" I was afterwards taken on board one of her
Vi^esty's shii>s, the Drir^r, Captain Charles Johnston,
and limded at Portsmouth ; from thence I got a patt-
sago to Olaugow, wai-o I remained three months.
Upon 8ui)plication to the recristcr-oflBce for seamen, in
London, my register-ticket has bci-n ftjrwaplcd to the
Collector of CHisloms, Glasgow ; and he his ready to
deliver it to me upon obtaining tho authority of the
Justices o( the Peace, and I recovered tho same under
the 22nd section of the Qeneral Merchant Seaman's
Act. Declares I cannot write.

** (Signed) David Mackimlay, J. P.

"The Justices having considered the foregoing in-
formation and declaration, finds that Edwam Albert,
therein named tho last-register ticket, sought to be
covered uiukr circumstances which, so far as be was
concerned, were unavoidable, and that no fraud was
intended or committed by him in reference thereto,
tbercforo authorised the CoUoctor and Comptroller of
Customs at the port of Olasguw to deliver to tho said
Edward Albert the register-ticket, sought to be re-
covered by him all in terms of 22ud sectiuu of the
General Uerchant Seamen's Act.

"(Signed) David Maoumlat, J. P.

"Glasgow, Oct 6th, 1862.

" Register lickot^ Ko. 512, 652, age 26 years."

** I coald make a large book of my snffer-
ings,sir,if I Uked," he said, "and I will dis-
grace the owners of that ship as long as they
don't give me what they owe me.

'*I will never leave England or Scotland
until I get my rights ; but they says money
makes money, and if I had money I could get
it. If they would only give me what they owe
me, I wouldn't ask anybody for a farthing,
God knows, sir. I don't know why the master
put my feet in the oven ; he said to cure me :
the agony of pain I was in was sach, he said,
that it must be done.

** The loss of my limbs is bad enough, but
it's still worse when you cant get what is your
rights, nor anything for the sweat that they
worked out of me.

"AfU-T I went down to Glasgow for my
money I opened a little coffee-house; it was
called * Uuflo Tom's Cabin.' I did very well.
Tho man who sold me tea and coffee said lie
would get me on, and I had better give my
money to him to keep safe, und he used to put
it away in a tin box which I had given four-
and-bixpcuce for. lie advertised my place in
the papers, and I did a good busin: ss. I had
tho place open a month, when lie kept all my
savings — two-and-forty pounds — and shut up
tbo place, and douied me of it, and I never got
a t'artliinK.

" I declare to you I can't describe the agony
I felt when my legs were burst ; I fainted away
over and over again. There was four men
came ; I was lying in my hammtxJc, and they
moved tlie fowl that was roasting, and put my
legs in the ovun. There they held me for ton
minutes. They said it would take the cold
out ; but after I came out the cold caught Vm
again, and the next day they swolo up as big
roimd as a pillar, and burst, and then like
water come out. No man but God knows what
I have suffered and wont through.

*• By the order of tho doctor at Valparaiso,
the sick patients had to come out of the room
I went into ; the smell was so bad I couldn't
bear it myself — it was all mortification — they
had to use chloride o' zinc to keep the smeU
down. They tried to save one leg, but the
mortification was getting up into my body. I
got better after my legs were off.

**I was three mouths good before I could
turn, or able to lift up my band to my head. I
was glad to move after that time, it was a
regular relief to me; if it wasn't for good
attendance, I should not have lived. You
know they dont allow tobaccer m a hospital,
but I had it; it was the only thing I cared for.
The Reverend Mr. Armstrong used to bring
me a pound a fortnight ; he used to bring it
regular. I never used to smoke before ; ^ey
said I never should recover, but after I got the
tobaccer it seemed to soothe me. I was five
months and a half in that place.

'* Admiral Moseley, of the TlktttB frigate,
sent me home ; and the reason why he sent
me home was, that after I came well, I calliHl

4M

LONIfOS LABOUR AVD TUB LOHBON POOA

on Mr. Boom, tiie Banish tatumi, uid he
■ant me to the boerding-hoiise. till eiioh time
M he eonld find a ship to eend me brane in.
I was there ebout two months, end the board-
iag-maater, Jan Pace, sent me to the eoDsal.

•*I nsed to get abont a little, ifith two small
outehes, and I also had a little eart befbfe
that, on three wheds; it was made by a man
in the hospital. Insedtolashmjselfdownin
it That was the best thing I eirer had— I
ooold get about best in that
. ** Well. I went to the eonsol, and when I
went to him, he says, * I eant pay yoor board ;
yon most beg and pay far it ;* so I went and
told Jan Face, and he said, * If yon had stopped
here a hmidred yeara, I would not tnm yon
oot ;* and then I asked Pace to tell me where
the Admiral Hved. ' What do yon want with
himf'sayshe. I said, ' I Udnk the Admiral
must be higher than the ocmsol.' Pace slqiped
me on the back. Soys he, *I'm glad to see
you're got the plnek to oomplam to the
Admiral.'

" I went down atnine o'clock the next morn-
ing, to see the Admiral. He said, *Well,
Fnnce Albert, how are yon getting on f ' So I
told him I was getting on Teiy bad ; and then
I told him all abont the eonsol; snd he said,
as bng SB ho stopped he woold seeme righted,
and took me on board his ship, the TheiU;
snd he wrote to the consul, and said to me,
' If the consul sends fbr yoo, don't yon go to
him ; tell him you have no legs to walk, and
he must walk to you.'

** The consul wanted to send me back in
a merchant ship, but the Admiral wouldn't
have it, so I came in the Driver^ one of Her
M:\je»ty'8 vessels. It was the 8th of May,
lb{>'2, when I got to Portsmouth.

*' I stopped a liltlo while — about a week —
in rortsmoutli. I went to the Admiral of the
(lockytml, and he told mc I must go to the
Lord Mayor of London. So I paid my passage
to London, saw the Lord Mayor, who sent me
to Mr. Yiirdley, the magistrate, and he adver-
tised the (.'Use for me, and I gut four pounds
fifteen shillings, besides my passage to Glas-
gow. After I got there, I went to Mr. Symee
a Custom-house officer (he'd been in the same
ship with me to California) ; he said, * Oh, gra-
cioiis, Edward, how have you lost your limbs ! '
and I burst out a crying. I told him all about
it He advised me to go to the owner. I
went there ; but the policeman in London had
put my name down as Hubert Thorpe, which
was the man I lodged with ; so they denied
me.

" I went to the shipping office, where they
reckonised me; and I went to Mr. Symee
again, and he told me to go before the Lord
Mayor (a Lord Provost they call him in Scot-
land), and make an affidavit; and so, when
they found my story was right they sent to
London for my seaman's ticket; but they
couldn't do anything, because the captain was
not there.

'x When Z got bade to LoDdon, I «
sweeping the eroasin', afar. I on^ swaep itin
the winter, because I can't atand in the samracr.
Oh, yes, I feel my ibet still: xtisjnalaijfl
had them sittinff on the floor, now. ItaAmf
toes moving, tike as if I had 'em. I eoald
count them, the whole ten, whenerer I woric
my knees. I had a com on one of n^
and I can feel it still, 5particnlai)y at the c
ofweather.

"Sometimes I might get two shillinyardiy
at my crossing, sometimes one shUhng and
sizpenoe, sometimes I dont take above siz^
pence. The most I erer made in one day was
three shillings and aizpenee, bnt thatTs veiy
seldom.

**! am a Teiy steady man. I donTt diiak
what money I get; and if I had tha meaaa
to get somethmg to do^ Td ke^ off the
streets.

"When I offered to gb to the parish, they
told me to go to Scotlsnd, to spite the men
who owed me my wages.

" Many people tell me I onght to co to ny

_ but I tell them itfs ym
didnt come here without my legs— I lost th»,

country;

as it were, in this conntiy; b^ if I had knt
them in my own country, I should have been
better off. I should have gone down to the
magistrate every ftiday, and have taken my
ten shillings.

** I went to the llerohsnt Ssamanis Funi,
and they said that those who got hmted befbn
1809 have been getting the Amda, but those
who were hurted after 1853 oonldnt get nothing
— it was stopped in '01, and the meccliBniB
wouldn't pay any more, and dont pay ooy
more.

** That's scandalous, because, whether youYe
willing or not, you must pay two shillings a-
month (one shilling a-month for the hospital
fees, and one shilling a-month to the Merchant
Seaman's Fund), out of yoTir pay.

** I am married : my wife is the same colour
as me, but an Englishwoman. I've been
married two years. I married her from where
she belonged, in Leeds. I couldn't get on to
do anything without her. Sometimes she
goes out and sells tilings — fruit, and so on— >
but she don't make much. With the assist-
ance of my wife, if I could get my money, I
would set up in the same line of business
as before, in a coffee-sliop. If I had three
pounds I could do it : it took well in Scotland.
I am not a common cook, either; I sm a
pastrycook. I used to nuike all the sorts
of cakes they have in the sbopa. I bought
the shapes, and tins, and things to make them
proper.

*^ I'll tell you how I did — there was a kind
of apparatus ; it boils water and coflEee, and
the milk and the tea, in different departments;
but you couldn't see tlie divisions — the pipes
all ran into one tap, like. I've had a sixpence
and a shilling for people to look at it : it cost
me two pound ten.

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

403

*' Eyen if I had a ooflbe-atall down at Covent.
garden, I should do; and, besides, I under-
stand the making of eel-soup. I have one
child, — it is just three months and a week old.
It is a boy, and we call it James Edward
Albert. James is after my grandfather, who
was a slave.

" I was a little boy when the slaves in
Jamaica got their freedom : the people were
very glad to be free ; they do better since, I
know, because some of them have got pro-
perty, and send their children to school.
There's more Christianity there than there is
here. The public-house is close shut on
Saturday night, and not opened till Monday
morning. No fhiit is allowed to be sold in the
street I am a Protestant. I don't know the
name of the church, but I goes down to a new-
built church, near King's-cross. I never go
in, because of my legs ; but I just go insido
the door ; and sometimes when I don't go, I
read the Testament I've got here : in all my
sickness I took care of that.

*' There are a great many Iiish in this place.
I would like to get away from it, for it is a very
disgraceful place, — ^it is an awfiil, awful place
altogether. I haven't been in it very long, and
I want to get out of it ; it is not fit

" I pay one-and-sixpence rent If you don't
go out and drink and carouse with them, they
don't like it ; they make use of bad language —
they chaflf me about my misfortune — they caU
me 'Cripple;' some says 'Uncle Tom,' and
some says 'Nigger;' but I never takes no
notice of 'em at all. "

The following is a verbatim copy of the
placard which the poor fellow places before
him when he begs. He carries it, when not
in use, in a little calico bag which hangs round
his neck :—

KIND CHEISTIAN FBIENDS

THE UNFOBTUNATE

EDWAKD ALBERT

WAS COOK ON BOABD THE BARQUE UADEIHA OF
GLASGOW CAPTAIN J. DOUGLAS IN FEBRUABT 1851
WHEN AFTER ROUNDING CAPE HORNE HE HAD HIS
LEGS AND FEET FROST BITTEN WHEN in that

State the master and mate put my Legs and
Feet into the Oven as they said to cure me the
Oven being hot at the time a fowl was roasting
was took away to make room for my feet and
legs in consequence of this my feet and legs
swelled and burst Mortification then En-
sued after which my legs were amputated
Three Inches below Uie Imees soon after my
entering the Hospital at Yalpariso.

AS I HATE NO OTHER MEANS TO GST ALIVELT-
HOOD BUT BT APPSAUNO TO

A GENEROUS PUBLIC

TOUB KIND DONATIONBWILL BE HOST THANKFULLY

The Maimed Irish Crossing-Sweeper.

He stands at the comer of — street, where
the yeUow omnibuses stop, and refers to him-
self every now and then as the "poor lame
man." He has no especial mode of addressing
the passers-by, except that of hobbling a step
or two towards them and sweeping away an
imaginary accumulation of mud. He has lost
one leg (from the knee) by a fall from a scaf-
fold, while working as a bricklayer's labourer
in Wales, some six years ago ; and speaks bit-
terly of the hard time he had of it when he
first came to London, and hobbled about sell-
ing matches. He says he is thirty-six, but
looks more than fifty; and his face has the
ghastly expression of death. He wears the
ordinary close cloth street-cap and corduroy
trousers. Even during the warm weather he
wears an upper coat — a rough thick garment,
fit for the Arctic regions. It was very difficult
to make him understand my object in getting
information from him: he thought that he
had nothing to tell, and laid great stress upon
the fact of his never keeping " count" of any-
thing.

He accoimted for his miserably small in-
come by stating that he was an invalid —
"now and thin continually." He said —

" I can't say how long I have been on this
crossin'; I think about five year. When I
came on it there had been no one here before.
No one interferes with me at all, at aU. I
niver hard of a crossin' bein' sould ; but I don't
know any other sweepers. I makes no fraydom
with no one, and I always keeps my own mind.

" I dunno how much I earn a-day — p'rhaps
I may git a shilling, and p'rhaps sixpence. I
didn't git much yesterday (Sunday) — only
sixpence. I was not out on Saturday ; I was
ill in bed, and I was at home on Friday. In-
deed, I did not get much on Thursday, only
tuppence ha'penny. The largest day? I
dunno. Why, about a shilling. Well, sure,
I might git as much as two shillings, iif I got
a shUlin' from a lady. Some ginUemen are
good — such a ginUeman as you, now, might
give me a shilling.

" Well, as to weather, I likes half diy and
half ¥rit ; of course I wish for the bad wither.
Every one must be glad of what brings good
to him ; and, there's one thing, I can't make
the wither — I can't make a fine day nor a wit
one.. I don't think anybody would interfere
witii me; certainly, if I was a blaggya'rd I
should not be left here ; no, nor if I was a
thief; but if any other man was to come on to^
my crossing, I can't say whether the jiohce
would interfere to protect me — p'rhaps they
might.

" What is it I say to shabby people f Well,

by J , they're all shabby, I think. I dont

see any difference ; but what can I do f I can't
insult thim, and I was niver insulted mysilf;
since here I've been, nor, for the matter of that,
ever had an angry worrud spoken to me.

IMfJMN laaOOM JJ» TMM S4>HnOW #M&

•• WiD, ranrl dnnBO wlio'i tlM most fibcnl ;
If I nC ft fcurptoa/ HI from m noH TA take
it 8(»MoftbaUdi««nTenlib0nl:ftgQod
lady wfll glfo a riiynoft. 1 nrror mm of
•wMfin' th« mod btok again; and aa fiir tlia
boji aanojing uml I hM no inJaagnain' vith
bofa, and thqrironidn^t be allowed to intMcftra
*iU& me— the pdlioe iroiildn*t allow it

** After I oame from Walea, where I waa on
Me lag, Mlling matehea, thai U waa I took to
aweep the eroaaln'. A poor difil mnet pot op
with anytUngy Rood or bad. Well, I waa a
Uborin' man,e bridUi^ei^ labonier, and iVe
bean sway from Ireland theae aizteenyeer.
Ifhao I eame from Ireland I went to Walee.
X waa there e limg time; and the wy I Woke
ay fag wa8|I ftU off e aoaflbld. I am not
manied: elame man wouldn't gat aoy woman
lo haifo bim in London at all, at all I dont
loiow what age I am. I am not Ally, nor
fbrty ; I think abont thirty-ais. No, by J—,
-: kft not myiUf thatiferknewewell-of Moon'-
Vkwewer. I dont dale in them at dL

A. Th$Btf
Bov

•Toot edale of ftienda in London
me (M only now and thin), tf Idwiniod
on the liBw ha*pfl«ioe 1 get, I woaldnt five en
'tall what monqr I got hare w«nldn*t \ng e
poond of mate; and I wonUnt lif% only te
myfrinda. Ton aee^ lir, I ean*t be ooi aurnob
Iain laid 19 nowa ud thine eontfaraaDy. Oh,
it*a e poor trade to Uf on the
morning tib ni^ and not gal
eoaldnt do with it| I know.

'«Teo,Hr,Iamoka; itra e eomfiiftiilie. I
like any kind rd gat to mnoke. I'd like the
boatlflgotit

** I am a Boman Oatholio, and I go to St.
Patrick's, in St. Giles's ; a many people from my
neigbbourbood go there. I go every Sundi^,
and to Confession just once a-yoar-^tbatsaTes
me.

" By Uie Lord's mercy ! I don't get broken
▼ictnals, nor broken mate, not as much as yon
might put on the tip of a fomik ; they'd chuck
it out m the dubt-bin before th^d give it to
me. I suppose tlicy're all alike.

" The ui^il an odd job I iver got^ maator,
nor knives to clane. If I got their ImiTca to
clane, p'rhaps I might done them.

" My brooms cost threepence ha'penny; they
are very good. I wear them down to a stomp,
and they last three weeks, this fine wither. I
nivcr got any ould dothes — not but I want a
coot very bad, sir.

" I come from Dublin ; my father and mo-
tlier died there of cholera; and when they
died, I come to England, and that was the
cause of my coming.

" By my oath it didn't stand me in more than
eighteenpence that I took here last week.

" I live in lane, St. Giles's Ghurob, on

the second landing, and I pay eightpenee a
week. I haven't a room to mysilf, for there's
a family lives in it ¥rid me.

"When I goes home I just amokea a pipe,
and goes to bid, that's alL**

A SBVAIXABLT intelligent lad, wbo» on Wag
apdkra to, at onee eenaentad to ghn all Ike
information in hie power, told ■ '" ""
ing atovy q£ hi« Hfo.

It wOl be aeen ftmn (fak hoAm
and the one or two ftOowiafl; Out
of pertneraUp eodafia among aome of than
young aweapenL Thay ham aandatod thma-
aelvee tooeiher, appamEiatod Mvenl moai-
inga to their nae, and^ appninfted n etplab
over them. They have their tema ef bU;
and " joiy-booae^ fbr the awftliMt ef dii-
pntea; lawafattrabaen ikmned, vhlah noveai
flkdr eommaidal wnaeediniii, and nUidaf
langaa^ adopted by the aoiialir inr ffta 1
protection from ita nnlif*eBaiS|yt the ]

I found the Ind wim intmnnmen

into the pneeedingi ^ the eaaoiiitod «o«-
ing-aweepen ennwed cm the atone elipeaf a
door in AdeUde-atoaeW teand; MdiAmI
apoke to him he waa pupaiim to mtOs

and body baing ewlad wwmd almeal aa #wig
aa thoae of neet en n hearth.

The mommithe hemd nqrwoieehe—iipm
fala foot, mUm% me to «^ve n halflinay le
poor little Jade-
He wae e good4ooking lad, with n prir of
large mild eyee, whioh he took good earn to
turn up with an ezpreaeion of aappUeation
as he moaned for bu halfpenny.

A ci4», or more properiy e atoJT bag, oovtnd
a crop of hair which had matted itself into the
form of so many paint-brushes, while bis ftoe,
from its roundness of foatore and the com-
plexion of dirt, had an almost Indian look
about it; the colour of his hands, too, wis
such that you could imagine he had been
shelling wahiuts.

He ran before me, treading canlioiuily with
his naked feet, until I reached a convenient
spot to take down his statement, nideh wasis
follows : —

** Tve got no mother or f)&ther ; mother bss
been dead for two years, and fkthei^ been

re more than that— more nigb five year»—
died at Ipswich, in Suffolk. He was a
perfumer by trade, and used to make balr^Te,
and scent, and pomatum, and all kinds of
scents. He didn't keep a shop himwTf, but
ho used to serve them as did ; ne didn't btwk
his goods about, neother, but had regolar cus-
tomers, what used to send him a letter, and
then he'd take them wimt they wanted. Teti
he used to serve some good shops : there was

H 's, of London Bridge, what's a large

chemist's. He used to make a good deal of
money, but he lost it betting; and 10 Ids

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

495

Vcother, my vnole, did all his. He used to go
up to High Park, and then go loond by the
Hospital, and then torn np a yard, where all
the men are who play for money [TattersaU's] ;
and there he'd lose his money, or sometimes
win, — but that wasn't often. I remember he
nscd to come home tipsy, and say he'd lost on
this or that horse, naming wot one he'd laid
on ; and then mother would coax him to bed,
and ailerwards sit down and begin to cry.

" I was not with father when he died (but I
was when he was dying), for I was sent np
along with eldest sister to London with a
letter to nnde, who was head servant at a
doctor's. In this letter, mother asked uncle
to pay back some money wot he owed, and
wot father lent him, and she asked him if he'd
like to come down and see fiskther before he
died. I recollect I went back again to mother
by the Orwell steamer. I was well dressed
then, and had good clothes on, and I was
given to the care of the captain— Mr. King
his name was. But when I got back to Ipswich,
father was dead.

** Mother took on dreadfU ; she was ill for
three months afterwards, confined to her bed.
She hardly eat anything: only beaf-toa — I
think they «dl it — and eggs. All the while
she kept on crying.

** Mother kept a serrant ; yes, sir, we always
had a servant, as long as I can recollect ; and
she and the woman as was there — Anna they
called her, an old lady — used to take care of
me and sister. Sister was fourteoi jrears old
(she's married to a young man now,* and they've
gone to America; she went from a place in
the East India Docks, and I saw her off). I
used, when I was with mother, \o go to school
in the morning, and go at nine and come home
at twelve to dinner, dien go again at two and
leave off at half-post four, — that is, if I be-
haved myself and did oU my lessons right; for
if I did not I was kept back till I did them so.
Mother used to pay one shilling a-week, and
extra for the copy-books and things. I can
read and write — oh, yes, I mean read and
write well — read anything, even old English;
and I write pretty fair, — though I don't get
much reading now, unless it's a penny paper —
I've goU one in my i)ocket now — it's the
London Journal — there's a tale in it now about
two brotliers, and one of them steals the child
away and puts another in his place, and then
he gets found out, and all that, and he's just
been foiling off a bridge now.

•* After mother got In^tter, she sold all the
furniture and goods and come up to London ;
— ][)oor mother I She let a man of the name
of Hayes have the greater part, and he left
Ipswich soon nSifir, and never gave mother the
money. We came up to London, and mother
took two rooms in Wei^minster, and I and
sister lived along with her. She used to
make hair-nets, and sister helped her, and
used to take 'em to the hair-dressers to sell.
She made these nets for two or three years,

thoagh she was suflbring with a bad breast ;
— she died of that — poor thing! — for she
had what doctors calls cancer — perhaps you*ve
heard of *em, sir, — and they had to cut all
round here (making motions with his hands
from the shoulder to the bosom). Sister saw
it, though I didn't.

'* Ah ! she was a very good, kind mother,
and veiy fond of botli of us ; though father
wasn't, for He'd always have a noise with
mother when he come home, only he was
seldom with us when he was making his
goods.

<* After mother died, sister still kept on
making nets, and I lived with her for some
time, untU she told me she couldn't afford to
keep me no longer, though she seemed to
have a pretty good lot to do ; but she would
never let me go with her to the shops, though
I could crochet, which she'd learned me, and
used to run and get her all her silks and things
what she wanted. But she was keeping com-
pany with a young man, and one day they
went out, and came back and said they'd been
and got married. It was him as got rid of me.

'* He was kind to mo for the first two or
three months, while he was keeping her com-
pany; but before he was married he got a
little cross, and after he was married ho begun
to get more cross, and used to send me to play
in the streete, and tell me not to come home
again till night. One day he hit me, and I
said I wouldn't be hit about by him, and then
at tea that night sister gave me three shillings,
and told me I must go and get my own living.
So I bought a box and brushes (they cost me
just the money) and went cleaning boots, and
I done pretty well with them, till my box was
stole firom me by a boy where I was lodging.
He's in prison now — got six calendar for
picking pockete.

" Sister kept all my clothes. When I asked
her for 'em, she said they was disposed of along
with all mother's goods ; but she gave me some
shirts and stockings, and such-like, and I had
very good clothes, only they was all worn out.
I saw sister after I left her, many times. I
asked her many times to take me back, but
she used to soy, * It was not her likes, but her
husband's, or she'd have had me bock ;' and I
think it was true, for imtU he come she was a
kind-hearted girl; but he said he'd enough
to do to look fdfter his own living ; he was a
foncy-bnker by trade.

•' I was fifteen the 24th of lost May, sir, and
I've been sweeping crossings now ncor upon
two years. There's a party of six of us, and
we have the crossings from St Martin's Church
as far as Pall Moll. I always go along with
tliem as lodges in the same place as I do. In
the dovtime, if it's drj', we do onythink whot
we can — open cobs, or any think; but if it's
wet, we separate, and I and another gets a
crossing — those who gets on it first, keeps it,
— and we stand on each side and take our
chance.

=i1

I

I

ZONBON I.ABOVM ^>i> TM£ LQXItOS* fiimS.

-We4oit

nn 'Onufflft (im ib Ibip w^> ^ciii^s .it. li m.
k^ ■ad fendaiiiB and « diild : bimI if I wis
lo iw ibeiD, Mhi imlj M^, * A toff wd m dfiiL'
■vi IflBve oat iii« diild, il^ m j wmtm gu ifdd
ike ^ild ; md as be is ri^i£ moA I vroi^,
tJbcB it'ft iiit p«vtf >

** if ilk^nem ft polieemdn t^om it hsnd we
HiHttnt Mk Ibr mian^rf ; b«t we sre «lwm]rs, oc
tils look^cnUt Cor tba polusiniai* md if w« «afi
iOii, tlien we i^ls out * Pliilltip i * for tliM'B
^nr d^oaL C)ixe of tlus poUcMBeu •! St Miir-
tiblB Church — B«iidjr« we edia IdiEi*^ known
viiat PluBnp meuu, ^ |ii^« up fa us ; so we
ktd to di^D^ the wiord. (At tJie rofue^t of
Iliujuimgcroaiag'Swieeper t^e present s%a«I
koiititted.Y

** Tesjt(?nlji J mi Ilia ecoemiE \W^ tkraeyencu
hdfi^Qj. bat wliAi ift diy Hka tind^^ I do

Ddthink, f<ir I hae9«Lt flot • PHKlIf fut.
' rittS;: *

W«

% k» htti got IMh u lot of cani«geSt
be"* <«i icratr ht ilwKift does* If
tbtj- sfeki him till linfmt fffo ooihiuk, hut if
Ihcf UP<Kb«i ikdr ii^ lie doet. The hooae^
]Be«|kcr At hii luMM 10 vui^ Und to IK. We
tun emadis iir hKp flid wbe d &Ke wuits
eogr ol h^ «im Ictlaiv Ukm to tKe post tb^u
dMi vdllW wd 1/ ITQ «rv on the QtMsiiig we
tilsBB Cbnn for ber» She'& ■ 'wtrj uicie Udj,
and ^ves UA broloeii netuals* Tve gi>t a ahcf^
iu tlmt crosdnfi:,^ — thei9 ue Ihcee of ns^ uid
wtieu he pT«s y>e bflif scrrereign ho alw^^
pYii* it to th« giTi aiid those tbat are in it
ithareft it* She woiild do us otii of it If ehis
ironldf hat ire aH tak«t good «ftf« of thatp for
W45 ui? all ehaaliu

'* At night-time w« lumhLe^' — that ia^ if the
noH^ygicn ftin't id|Fh. We goes geneimL to
WBl9kM»-^leoe whea the C^en'4 on. We
■sodi oQ cne of us ahead, as e h>oker4iai» to
look fot the pHjtticteraan^ and then ve fblknra,
It'« no ^ood uimMing to geudtenieD foiiy to
Uie Open; it's when ih^fr^ eotninf hiicktliej
s^tvis 0)1 Olfiiiej^ When Ihej^e got « JORIIIf
iatl^ on thttf ftim the7 hkU^h at us tumblillt;
lejU gtie u« ft pe^niij, others thpeepcuee,
» Of B shillmg, and fome-
« baibeni^. We iiiiher do the catHm-

ibut tuwe peneiul^ ptn Ibi muacT- to
tuateff &r if monef^s feitnd en tu «o b4t@
fourteen dsfs in pcieoo^

'* If 1 wea lo reckon ell (h« |^«ar round* liiAi
is, one daj with Kuother, I think ve mak« ibur-
penoe ereny daj, and if we irep^ to atiiek to it
we ahoold make more, for on a y^vf muddy
daj wo do better; One daj, th^ hi^t I ever
}ijulp from nine o'clock in the morning till
seven o'clock at night, I mftde Seven sldlliQgs
and dxponee, and got not one hit of ^1 er
moD^j among iL Every sbilliiig I got I went
and l^ft at a shop ncai' wliere mj i^ros^ng i&ir
for fi-^ar I might g^t iaio ouj barni. The shop'fi
kept by a vromiui wo deals with for what W43
wantis — tea and \mVbm, or 6ii^', or brooms —
nujtkLuk %ii wants, Saturday ni^t week I
znodo two-and sixpeitee^ tMt's what X took
altogether up to sLk tiVliiKk,

** When we see the t^m wo say together,
'Oh I there's a joUy good rain! well have u
gi^od day to-morrow/ If a shower oomefl 00,
and wo are at oar room, which we gfuaral are
ahout three «*clock, to get somethink to eiit —
hesides, ire general go there to see how much
eaoh other's t^ea in the day ^ why, out we
run with our hrooms,

'* We're always HUre to make mouey if there's
mud — ihat'H to ftay, if we llx^k fur our money,
and o^k ; of eoiir»e, if tre stood attll we dou't.
Now, there's Lord Fitzhardinge, he's a good
gentle nrtftn, what lives in SprLug-gardens, iu a
Lu^e bouse, He'a got a lot of servants and
carrkges. Every time be crosses the Charing-
orofia croHsiDg he always gives the girl half a
Horereign.'* (Tills statement was taken in
June 1R56.) ^ He doesn't cross oaen^ he-

whed, or die we keep befiwe the gentleman
Leud<c

and l^djp taming heud<ov«r-lieelav i>uttiiig our
bror-m on the gn^mnd eud theu turning over it.

** 1 work & good deal ^tchlug oaha ultv the
Opif^ is QTGETt 've gt^^eml open the doon of
those what draw tip at the side of tbe pavement
for people lo get mto m h»^^ iralked a liiUe
down tbt^ Havmjirket looking i&t a cab. We
gets a month in pri^n if we t^ucb the others
by the eolnmns. I on^ had half a ^ovcji^tgu
give me by a gentleman ; it wa.s raining awful,
and I run all about fnr a caK and at Ia;^! I got
oiie^ The geutlemoji kcew it was half m
sovereign* because he said — * Here, nay little
man, here's half a sovf mgn for your trouble.*
He had tlin.'e ladies wiib him, beautiful onesj,
with tiotbink on their hf^od^ and only capoa
on theif tkare ^Imiilderii ; and h^ had white
kids on, and his it^gular Opcm togt, too. I
liked him vsfy mucbf and as he was going to
give me somethink the ladies says — * Oh, give
him eomethiuk extra I ' It wae pouriug with
rain, and tbej couldn't get a cab ; thev were
ilU eugnged^ but I jaTTtprd ou the box of on a
OS was dn^ing oIoljij i}u> Hue, Last Saturday
Opera night I miidt> fifteen pence; by the gen^
tJemen coming &om the Op€iiL.

^ Aft^r the Oper&we go into the Hajmaiket,
where all the women arie who walk the streets
all night. They don't give us no money, but
they tell the gentlemi'U to. SometinK^ when
they are talking to the genUemeu« they say,
* Go awajt you young rascal 1 * and if they ftre
saucy, then we say to them, * We re not talking
to you, my doxy, wete talking to the gentle-
man,'^— but that's only if they're rude, for if
they speak dvil we always goes. They knows
what ^ doxf ' means, VVhat is it T Why thjiC

THE IRISH CROSSING-SWEEPER.

[From a PhotograjA."}

^%^«LNt^\.

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

407

they are no better than us ! If we are on the
orossinff, and we says to them as they gu by,
*■ Good Tuck to you ! ' they always give us some-
think either that night or the next There are
two with Uloomer bonnets, who always give us
Bomethink if we says ' Good luok.' Sometimes
a gentleman will tell us to go and get them a
young lady, and then we goes, and they general
gives us sixpence for that If the gents is
dressed finely we gets them a handsome girl ;
if they're dreissed middling, then we gets them
a middHng-dressed one ; but we usual prefers
gi\ing a turn to girls that have been kind to
us, and they are sure to give us somethink
the next night If we don't find any girls
walking, we knows where to get them in the
houses in the streets round about

**We always meet at St. Martin's steps -»
the * jury house,' we calls 'em — at three o'clock
in the morning, that's always our hour. We
reckons up what we%'e taken, but we don't
divide. Sometimes, if we owe anythink where
we lodge, the women of the house will be
waiting on the steps for us : then, if we've got
it, we pay them ; if we havent, why it can't be
helped, audit goes on. We gets into debt,
because sometimes the women where we live
sets lushy ; then we don't give them anythink,
because they'd forget it, so we spends it our-
selves. We can't lodge at what's called model
lodging-houses, as our hours don't suit them
folks. We pays threepence a-nlght for lodging.
Pood, if we get plenty of money, we buys for
cursives. We buys a pound of bread, that's two.
pence £Eurthing — best seconds, and a farthing's
worth of dripping — that's enough for a pound
of broadband we gets a ha'porth of tea and
a ha'porth of sugar ; or if we're hard up, we
gets only a penn'orth of bread. We make our
own tea at home ; they lends us a kittle, tea-
pot, and cups and saucers, and all that

** Once or twice a-week we gets meat We
all club together, and go into Newgate Market
and gets some pieces dieap, and biles them at
home. We tosses up who shall have the
biggest bit, and we di%ide the broth, a cupM
in each basin, until it's lasted out If any of
ns has been unlucky we each gives the unlucky
one one or two halfx)ence. Some of us is
obliged at times to sleep out all night ; and
sometimes, if any of us gets nothink, then the
others gives him a penny or two, and ht does
the same for us when tre are out of luck.

" Besides, there's our clothes : I'm paying
for a pair of boots now. I paid a shilling otT
Saturday night

" When we gets home at half-past three in
the morning, whoever cries out ' first wash '
has it First of all we washes our feet, and we
all uses the same water. Then we washes our
fikces and hands, and necks, and whoever
fetches the fresh water up has first wash ; and
if the second dont like to go and get fresh,
why he uses the dirty. Whenever we come in
the landlady makes us wash our feet Very
often the atones cuts our feet and makes them

bleed ; then we biad a bit of rag round them.
We like to put on boots and shoes in the day-
time, but at night-time we cant, because it
stops the tumblmg.

" On the Sunday we all have a clean shirt
put on before we go out, and then we go and
tumble after the omnibuses. Sometimes wo
do very well on a fine Sunday, when there's
plenty of people out on the roo& of the busses.
We never do anythink on a wet day, but only
when it's been raining and then dried up. I
have run after a Cremome bus, when they've
thrown us money, as far as from Charing-cross
right up to Piccadilly, but if they don't throw
us nothink we don't run very fir. I should
think wc gets at that work, taldng one Sunday
with another, eightpencc all the year round.

** When there's snow on the ground we puts
our money together, ond goes and buys an old
shove^ and then, about seven o'clock in the
morning, we goes to the shops and asks them
if we shall scrape the snow away. We general
gets twopence every house, but some gives
sixpence, for it's very hard to dean the snow
away, particular when it's been on the ground
some time. It's awfol cold, and gives us chil-
blains on our fbet ; but we don't mind it when
we're working, for we soon gets hot then.

** Before winter comet, we general save up
our money and buys a pair of shoes. Some-
times we makes a very nig snowball and rolls
it up to the hotels, and then the gentlemen
laughs and throws us money ; or else we pelt
each other with snowbaUs, and then they
scrambles money between us. We always go
to Motley's Hotel, at Charing-cross. The
police in winter times is kinder to us than in
summer, and they only laughs at us ; — p'rhaps
it is because there is not so many of us about
then, — only them as is obligated to find a
living for themselves ; for many of the bovs
has fkthers and mothers as sends them out m
summer, but keeps them at h<mie in winter
when it's piercing cold.

" I have been to the station-house, because
the police always takes us up if we are out at
night; but we're only locked up lall morning,
— that is, if we behaves ourselves when we're
taken before the gentleman. Mr. Hall, at
Bow-street, only says, • Poor boy, let him ga'
But it's only when we've done nothink but
stop out that he says that He's a kind old
gentleman ; but mind, it's only when you have
been before him two or three times he says so,
because if it's a many times, he'll send you for
fourteen days.

^But we don't mind the police much at
night-time, because we jumps over the walls
round the place at Trafalgar-square, and they
don't like to follow us at that game, and only
stands looking at you over the parrypit
There was one tried to jump the wall, but he
split his trousers all to bits, and now theylre .
afhdd. That was Old Bandy as bust his
breeches; and we all hate him, as well as
another we calls Black Diamond, what's general

4116

LOyDON LdBOVB JXfD TBS LONDON POOM.

daogiHtfi Ili6 Bad lintti, m m mDs tiie
Kndkilj ofltoen, wbo fpm about In diigiiise
■a gntlemen, to tako up poor txqfa eang^t

we an taUdng tofBllieriro alwaja

talk in a kind of dang. Ead& poUeeman ive
givea a imilar nnna— ther^ «Bn]l*a Head,'
•Bandj Sbanki,' and^Old GImrt Lega^'and
•Dot-and-aany-ona^ thaj all knowa tlidr
namai aa well aa na. Wenefer talkaoferoaa-
ittga, but <ftlM.' We dont make no dang
of onr own, bat naea the regnkr one.

«* A broom doeant laat na more than a week
in wet weather, and thev eoata ns twopenee
htltpmaj each ; bat in diy weather thflj are
good for a fortnight.''

Touiio 100*8 Summr.

Tia next lad I examined waa ealled Mike,
He waa a Bhort» atoat-wt Toath, with a fooe
like an old man's, for the foatnrea were hard
and defined, and the boUowB had got filled up
iritti dirt till hit eoantenanee waa brown m
an old wood eaning. I have aeldom seen to
dirtj a fooe, for the boy had been in a pernir.
atioL and then wiped hia oheeka with nia
moddj handa, nntil thegr were marbled, like
the oorering to a eopj'book.

The old lady of the hoose in whidi the boy
lived aeemed to be hart 1^ ^^ onwaehed up-
peaianoe of her lodger. *^ Ton oaght to be
aehamed of yoorMlf— and thaTa QoA'u truth —
not to go and daioe yoorMlf afore anddng to
the jintlemin," ahe aied, lodldng altematdy
at me and the lad, aa if aaking me to witneee
her indignation.

Miko woro no shoes, bat his i^t were as
black as if cased in gloTes with short fingers.
His coat had been a man's, and the tails
reached to his ankles ; one of the sleeves was
wanting, and a dirty rag had been woond
round the arm in its stead. His hair spread
about like a tuft of grass where a rabbit has
been squatting.

He said, ** I haven't got neither no fhthcr
nor no mother,— never had, sir; for fother's
been dead these two year, and mother getting
on for eight. They was both Irish people,
please sir, and father was a bricklayer. When
• father was at work in the country, mother
used to get work carrying loads at Covent-
garden Market. I lived with fiither till he
died, and that was from a complaint in his
chest. After that I lived along with my big
brother, what's 'listed in the Marines now.
He used to sweep a crossing in Camden-town,
opposite the Southampting Harms, near the
toU-gate.

" He did pretty well up there sometimes,
such as on Christmas-day, where he has took
as much as six shillings sometimes, and never
less than one and sixpence. All the gentle-
ments knowed him thereabouts, and one or
two used to give him a shilling a-week re-
gidar.

>*It waa he aa fint of an wot nevp toavMp
a eroedng, and I uaed to tAe mjatandalSL
Martin's Churdi.

«•! didnt aee anybody wotUng €benb ao I
nhnntedmyadf onit. After a time aonie other
boya eome up. They eome up and wanted to
turn me ofl^ and began hitting me with their
faroom% — they hit me regular hard with the
old etompa; there waa five or dz of thai; m
I oouldn't defend niTadi; hut told the poBee.
man, and he tuned them all away exoept wfi,
beeante he aaw me on flratk air. Now we «t
an frienda, and woric together, and an that w
eama ounelf we haa.

'* On a good d^, when it'a noured or nda
and then leafe off audden,and made itniet
and muddy, fre took aa mueh aa ;
but it'a too dry now, and wo dont do :
ti<— ^ foorpenee.

**At ni^ I go along wiHi
.tumbling. I doea the oat'en-wiieel (probd^r
a eontraction of CatheKine-wfaeell ; I thioei
myadf over ndewiyi on my handa with nj
lege in the air. I ean*t do it mora than fov

timea nuudnff, beoanae it mdoea the Uood to
the head, and then aU the things aeeau t»
tnmround, Sometimea a chap wiU giie me
a Udc with a slide Juat aa Pm gofaig Ofsr—
sometimea a reglar good haid irtmek; bat it
aint often, and we gfiDenl geta a halflpawy or
apennybyit.

**The boys aaruna after the hqsaes was the
first to do these here oat'an-wliaela. I know
the h(7 as was the reiy font to do It Hii
name ia Gander, ao we caUs him the Oooae.

^There^ about nine <Hr ten of ua in onr
gang, and as is reg'lar; we lodgea at ^fEenot
places, and we has our reglar hoars for meet-
ing, but we all comes and goes when we hkes,.
only we keeps together, so as not to let any
others come on the crossings but ourselves.

'" If another boy tries to come on we cries
out, * Here's a Kooshian,' and then if he wont
go away, we all sets on him and gives him a
drubbing; and if he still comes down the next
day, we pays him out twice as much, and
harder.

** There's never been one down there yet n
can lick us all together.

** If we sees one of our pals heang pitdied
into by other boys, we goes up and helps him.
Gander's the leader of our gang, 'caose he eaa
tumble back'ards (no, that aint the cat'en-
wheel, that's tumbling) ; so he gets more tin
give him, and that's why we makes him cap'an.

" After twelve at night we goes to the Be-
gent's Circus, and we tumbles there to the
gentlemen and ladies. The most I ever ^
was sixpence at a time. The French lamss
never give us nothizik, but they all says, *Ch]t,
chit, chit,' like hissing at us, fi>r they cta\
understand us, and we're as bad off with theoL

" If it's a wet night we leaves off work abont
twelve o'clock, and don't bother with the Hij-
market.

** The first as gets to the crossing does the

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON JPOOR.

49d

sweeping away of the mnd. Then they has in
return fdl the halfpence they can take. When
it's heen wet every day, a hroom gets down to
stnmp in about four days. We either bums
the old brooms, or, if we can, we sells 'em
for a ha'penny to some other boy, if he's flat
enough to buy 'em.'*

Gandeb — The " Cattain " of the Boy
Cbossino-Sweepebs.

Gandeb, the captain of the gang of boy cross-
ing-sweepers, was a big lad of sixteen, with a
face devoid of all expression, until he laughed,
when the cheeks, mouth, and forehead in-
stantly became crumpled up with a wonderful
quantity of lines and dimples. His hair was
cut short, and stood up in all directions, like
the bristles of a hearth -broom, and was a light
dust tint, matching with the hue of his com-
plexion, which also, from an absence of wash-
ing, had turned to a decided drab, or what
house-painters term a stone-colour.

He spoke with a lisp, occasioned by the loss
of two of his large front teeth, which allowed
the tongue as he talked to appear through the
opening in a round nob like a raspberry.

The boy's clothing was in a shocking con-
dition. He had no coat, and his blue-striped
shirt was as dirty as a French-polisher's rags,
and so tattered, that the shoulder was com-
pletely bare, while the sleeve hung down over
the hand like a big bag.

From the fish -scales on the sleeves of his
coat, it had evidently once belonged to some
coster in the herring line. The nap was all
worn off, so that the linos of the web were
showing like a coarse carpet; and instead of
buttons, string hod been passed through holes
pierced at the side.

Of course he had no shoes on, and his black
trousers, which, with the grease on them, were
gradually assuming a tarpaulin look, were
fastened over one shoulder by means of a
brace and bits of string.

During his statement, he illustrated his ac-
count of the tumbling backwards — the " caten-
wheeling " — with different specimens of the
art, throwing himself about on the floor with
an ease and almost grace, and taking up so
small a space of the ground for the perform-
ance, that his limbs seemed to bend as though
his bones were flexible like cane.

" To tell you the blessed truth, I can't say
the last shilling I handled."

" Don'tyougoa-believingon him," whispered
another lad in my ear, whilst Gander's head
was turned : ** he took thirteenpence last night,
he did.-

It was perfectly impossible to obtain from
this lad any account of his average earnings.
The other boys in the gang told me that he
made more than any of them. But Gander,
who is a thorough street-beggar, and speaks
with a peculiar whine, and who, directly you
look at him, puts on an expression of deep

distress, seemed to have made up his mind,
that if he made himself out to be in great want
I should most likely relieve him — so he would
not budge an inch from his twopence a-day,
declaring it to be the maximum of his daily
earnings.

'* Ah," he continued, with a persecuted tone
of voice, " if I had only got a little money, I'd
be a bright youth I The first chance as I get
of earning a few balance, I'll buy myself
a coat, and be off to the country, and 111
lay something I'd soon be a gentleman then,
and come home with a couple of pounds in my
pocket, instead of never having ne'er a farthing,
as now."

One of the other lads hero exclaimed,
" Don't go on like that there. Goose ; you're
making us out all liars to the gentleman."

The old woman also interfered. She lost
all patience with Gander, and reproached him
for making a false return of his income. She
tried to shame him into tinithfulness, by say-
ing,—

" Look at my Johnny — my grandson, sir,
he's not a quarther the Goose's size, and yet
he'll bring mo home his shilling, or perhaps
eighteenpenco or two shillings — for shame on
you. Gander ! Now, did you make six shillings
last week ? — ^now, speak God's truth 1"

"What! six shillings?" cried the Goose—
** six shillings ! " and he began to look up at the
ceiling, and shake his hands. **Why, I never
heard of sich a sum. I did once see a half-
crown ; but I don't know as I ever touched e'er
a one."

" Thin," added the old woman, indignantly,
** it's because you're idle. Gander, and you don't
study when you're on the crossing ; but lets the
gintlefolk go by without ever a word. That's
what it is, sir."

The Goose seemed to feel the truth of this
reproach, for he said with a sigh, " I knows I
am fickle-minded."

He then continued his statement, —

" I can't tell how many brooms I use ; for as
fast as I gets one, it is took from me. God
help me I They watch me put it away, and
then up they comes and takes it. What kinds
of brooms is the best ? Why, as far as I am con-
cerned, I would sooner have a stump on a diy
day — it's lighter and handier to carry ; but on
a wet day, give me a new un.

** I'm sixteen, your honour, and my name's
George Gandea, and the boys calls me * the
Goose ' in consequence ; for it's a nickname
they gives me, though my name ain't spelt with
a har at the end, but with a Vay, so that I ain't
Gander after all, but Gandea, which is a sell
for 'em.

**God knows what I am — whether I'm
hirish or h'/talian, or what ; but I was christ-
ened here in London, and that's all about it.

** Father was a bookbinder. I'm sixteen
now, and father turned me away when I was
nine year old, for mother had been dead before
that. I was told my right name by my brother*

MMmow LdBOum jam m Emnow

nber the ftut night I ikp*
folBdlornA. IikploaaL
11% door-dcpi m the vintsr, or the
lithJnMiy. I peflhei i«j lUrt «
lAMh wee e pnttjT 9Mii one, right oter ny
MVBp mmI thm Mrantehed BifMlf intoedooiw
vqr, and the folioenMn piiMd hgr ipv
Ifaijei withooft eeoittg on ne>

''I hed e aMthMMD-hnr el the tnu
firthar used to drink, or else I ■hould
heve bean ail em; end he eeme hon
Bi^U,eBdMTOhe,'Gooat end geineeliiir
ha'pence lor bfealdha(,'and I oaid I had never
hew in the ttieete in my Ufe, end-coiildnt:
iMd, njra he, ' Go out, and netcr let me aee
ion no nuNre,' and I took him to liie vord, and
hero nevar bean near him rinoe.

*' Father lired in Barlnean at that time, end
after leering him, I naed to go to the Bt^al
Bachange, and there I met e hqr of the neme
ef Miflhael, and he flrat leamt me to beg, end
made me ran after pec^ile, aajing, * Poor htj^
eir— pleaae give na a ha'penny to gat e moaael
of bread.' Bat aa laat ea I got enythink, he
naed to take it away, and knock me about
ahameftil; ao I left him, and then I pieked np
vith a chap aa tanght me tumbling. I aoon
larat how to do it, and then I ued to go
tumbling alter boaaea. That waa my notion
all along, and I hadnt picked np the my of
doing it half an hoar befine I waa after that
game.

** I took to crossings aboat eight year ago,
and the very fast person as I asked, 1 bad a
fourpenny-piece givo to me. I said to him,
' Poor little Jack, ycr honour/ and, fust of all,
says he, ' 1 haven't got no coppers,' and then
ho turns back and give me a fourpenny-bit.
I thought I was made for life when I got that.

" I wasn't working in a gang then, but all by
myself, and I used to do well, making about a
shilling or ninepenee a-day. I lodged in Church-
lane at that time.

** It was at the time of the Shibition year
(1631) aa these gangs come up. There was
lots of boys that oame out sweeping, and that's
how they picked up the tumbling off me, seeing
me do it up in the Park, going along to the
Shibition.

** The crossing at St. Martin's Chnrch was
mine fust of all; and when the other lads
come to it I didn't take no heed of 'em — only
for that I'd have been a bright boy by now,
but they camied me over iDce; for when I
tried to turn 'em off they'd say, in a camying
way, * Oh, let us stay on,' so I never took no
heed of 'em.

" There was about thirteen of 'em in my
gang at that time.

'*They made me cap'an over the lot — I
ooppoae because they thought I wee the beat I

^Iwaetheftiettoi
aid8,«idrtefrand of !>■ yBB,rir, llmi
ofit TheeB^iotherliilleeiie»e<l!^hn«'
iagto4oii; hot he an^ get ataiglh meih
inhiaeiBielikeb ('Ahr enkteedekdk
the «MB, • he <t e OM to tmhfe* ie Joteay^
go along the etieete likn enythhik.')

-- Hem the Kingof theTnmhlen," I
ider*-^ Xittft end rm G^ilHi.''

The old aenfaedier hem joined in. "He

wife

twiee epday and ove ln» Jeeeone in taie

very room, ar. Thera how he got li rir.

Ah," edded enother kd.
tooe^^'aee him end theOeoee hen a moa!
Away they goee, hot Jnchy niU leoee him a
wn^L^ behind**

The hietory then foatianed^-^P^oplelikid
the tumbling bedkarda end ftmvdi^ and ii got
e good bit or mooqr nt ftH*i hat they ia I
tiredwkhit,andlte pmiingftDohaU,!
It hmt me awftd at ftmt Itriediifuti
a railway areh of the BleekwaU Bailway; and
when I goes bockards, I thought it'd cut my
head open. It hurts mo if I've got a thin cap
on.

^ The man as taught me tumbling has gone
on the stage. Fust he went about with swords,
fencing, in publie-houses, and then he got en-
gaged. Me and him onoe tombled all round
tlie circus at the Botunda one night wot was
a beneAt, and got one-and-eightpenee a-^ece^
and all for only five hoars and a half — fi^im
six to half-past eleven, and we acting and
tumbling, and all that Wo had plenty of
beer, too. We woe weiy moeh epplanded
when we did it

** I was the tatX boy aa ever did ornamental
work in the mud of my croeeinga. I used to
be at the croaaing at the oomer of Segent-
suckus; and that's the wery fdaoe where I
fust did it The wery fust thing ae I did was
a hanker (anchor)—* regular one, with tam-
up aides and a rope down the centre^ and alL
I sweeped it away clean in the mud in the
shape of the drawing I'd aeen. It paid weU,
for I took one-and-ninepenoe on it The next
thing I tried was writing *God save the Qoeen.''
and that, too, paid capital, for I think I got
two bob. After that I tried Wo Her (V. B.)
and a star, and that was a sweep too. I never
did no flowera, bnt I've done iaalnrtieoa of

LONDON LABOUM AND THE LONDON POOR,

dOl

laurels, and put them all round the crossing,
and veiy pretty it looked, too, at night. I'd
buy a farthing candle and sUck it over it, and
! make it nice and comfortable, so that the
people could look at it easy. Whenever I see
a carriage coming I used to douse the glim
and run away with it, but the wheels would
regularly spile the drawings, and then we'd
have all the trouble to put it to rights again,
and that we used to do with our hands.

'* I fust learnt drawing in the mud from a
man in Adelaide-street, Strand; he kept a
crossing, but he only used to draw 'em close
to the kerb-stone, lie used to keep some soft
mud there, and when a carriage come up to
the Lowther Arcade, after he'd opened the
door and let tbe lady out, he would set to
work, and by tbe time she come back he'd
have somo flowers, or a We Har, or whatever
he liked, done iu the mud, and undemeatli
he'd write, * Please to remember honnest hin
dustr}'.'

" I used to stand by and see him do it, imtil
I'd learnt, and wlien I kuowed, I went off and
did it at my crossing.

^ I was the fust to light up at night though,
and now I wish I'd never done it, for it was
that which got me turned ofif my crossing, and
a capital one it was. I thought the gentlemen
coming from the play would like it, for it looked
very pretty. The policeman said I was de-
structing (obstructuig) tho thoroughfare, and
making too much row there, for the people
used to stop in the crossing to look, it were so
pretty. He took me in charge three times on
one night, cause I wouldn't go away ; but ho
let me go again, till at h»st I thought lie would
lock me up for the night, so I hooked it.

*' It was after this as I went to St. Martin's
Church, and I haven't done half as well there.
Last night I took three-ha'pence; but I was
larking, or I might have hod more."

As a proof of the very small expense which
is required for the toilette of a crossing-
sweeper, I may mention, that within a few
minutes after Master Gander had Hnisbed his
statement, ho was in possession of a coat, for
which he had paid the sum of flvepence.

When he brought it into the room, all the
boys and the women crowded round to see the
purchase.

** It's a very good un," said the Goose. " It
only wants just taking up here and there ; and
this caff putting to rights." And as he spoke
he pointed to tears laxge enough for a head to
be thrust through.

'* I've seen that coat before, sum'ares,** said
one of the women ; ** where did you get it ? '*

*' At the chandly-shop," answered the Goose

The ''Kino** of the Tumblxno-Bot

CBOBBUrO-SwBEPESS.

The young sweeper who had been styled
by his companions the *^ King" was a pretty-
looking boy, onliy toll enough to rest bis

chin comfortably on the mantel-piece as he
talked to me, and with a pair of grey eyes that
were as brisht and clear as drops of sea-wateii
He was clad in a style in no way agreeing .with
his royal tide ; for he had on a kind of dirt-
coloured shoodng-coat of tweed, which was
fraying into a kind of cobweb at the edges and
elbows. His trousers too, were rather faulty,
for there was a pink-wrinkled dot of flesh at
one of tho knees ; while their length was too
great for his mi\jesty's short legs, so that thti^
had to be rolled up at the end like a washer-
woman's sleeves.

His royal highness was of a restless dispo-
sidon, and, wliilst talking, lifted up, one after
another, the difierent ornaments on the man-
tel-piece, frowning and looking at them side-
ways, as ho pondered over the replies he should
make to my questions.

When I arrived at the grandmother's apart-
ment the "king" was absent, his m^jesty
having been sent with a pitcher to fetch some
spring-water.

The "king" also was kind enough to favour
me with samples of his wondrous tumbling
powers. Ho could bend his litde legs round
till they curved like the long Geniiau sausages
we see iu tho ham-and-bcef shops ; and when
he turned head over heels, he curled up Ms
tiny body as closely as a wood-louse, and then
rolled along, wabbling like an egg.

" The boys call me Johnny," he said ; " and
I'm getting on for eleven, and I goes along
with the Goose and Harry, a-sweepiug at St.
Martin's'Church, and about there. I used, too,
to go to tho crossing where the statute is, sir,
at the bottom of the Haymarket. I went along
>rith the others ; sometimes there were three
or four of us, or sometimes one, sii*. I never
used to sweep unless it was wet. I don't go
out not before twelve or one in the day; it
ain't no use going before that ; and beside, I
couldn't get up before that, I'm too sleepy.
I don't stop out so late as the other boj-s; they
somedmes stop all night, but I don't like that.
The Goose was out all iiiglit along with !Mar-
tin; they went all along up Piccirilly, and
there they climbed over the Park raihugs and
went a birding all by themselves, and then
they went to sleep for an hour on the grass —
so they says. I Hkcs better to come home to
my bed. It kiUs me for the next daj when I
do stop out all night. The Goose is always
out all night ; he likes it.

" Neither father nor mother's alive, sir, but
I lives along ^ith grandmother and aunt, as
owns this room, and I always giYes them all
I gets.

" Sometimes I makes a shilling, sometimes
sixpence, and sometimes less. I can never
take nothink of a day, only of a night, because
I can't tumble of a cuty, and I can of a night.

*^ The Gander taught me tumbling, and he
was the first as did it along the crossings. I
can tumble quite as well as the Goose ; I can
turn a eaten- wheel, and he cant, and I can go

l^^ k r. . z

. ■* i- ■

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.

603

pastry-shop at the comer, and thej tells me to
tumble on the tables in the shop. I nearly
broke one of 'em, they were so delicate. They
gived me a fouri>enny meat-pie and two penny
sponge-cakes, which I puts in my pocket, cos
there was another sharing with me. The lady
of the shop kept on screaming — *• Go and fetch
me a police— -take the dirty boy out,' cos I was
Btandmg on the tables in my muddy feet, and
the officers was a bursting their sides with
laughing ; and says they, *■ No, he sham't
stir.*

**I was fHghtened, cos if the police had
come they'd been safe and sure to have took
me. They made me tumble from the door to
the end of the shop, and back again, and then
I turned 'em a caten-wheel, and was near
knocking down all the things as was on the
counter.

** They didn't give me no money, only pies ;
but I got a shilling another time for tumbling
to some French ladies and gentlemen in a
pastry-cook's shop under the Colonnade. I
often goes into a shop Uke that ; I've done it
a good many times.

*» There was a gentleman once as belonged to
a * suckus,' (circus) as wanted to take me with
him abroad, and teach me tumbling. He had
a little mustache, and used to belong to Drury-
lane play-house, riding on horses. I went to
his place, and stopped there some time. He
taught me to put my leg round my neck, and
I was just getting along nicely with the splits
(going down on the ground with both legs
extended), when I left him. They (the splits)
used to hurt worst of all ; very bad for the
thighs. I used, too, to hang with my leg roimd
his neck. 'When I did anythink he liked, be
used to be clapping me on the back. He
wasn't so very stunning well o^ for he never
had what I calls a good dirmer — grandmother
used to have a better dinner than he, — per-
haps only a bit of scrag of mutton between
three of us. I don't like meat nor butter, but
I Ukes dripping, and they never had none
there. The wife used to drmk — ay, very much,
• on the sly. She used when he was out to
send me round with a bottle and sixpence to
get a quartern of gin for her, and she'd take
it with three or four oysters. Grandmother
didn't like the notion of my going away, so
she went down one day, and says she — ' I
wants my child;' and the wife says — ' That's
according to tho master's likings;' and then
grandmother saysr— ' What, not my own child ? '
And then grandmother began talking, and at
last, when Uie master come home, he says to
me — * Which will yon do, stop here, or go
home with your grandmother?' So I come
along with her.

" I've been sweeping the crossings getting
on for two years. Before that I used to go
caten-wheeling after the busses. I don't like
the sweeping, and I dont think there's e'er a
one of us wot likes it. In the winter we has
to be out in the cold^ and then in summer we

have to sleep out all night, or go asleep on
the church-steps, reg'lar tired out.

" One of us 'U say at night — ' Oh, I'm sleepy
now, who's gome for a doss ? I'm for a doss ;'
— and then we go eight or ten of us into a
doorway of the church, where they keep the
dead in a kind of airy-like underneath, and
there wc go to sleep. The most of the boys
has got no homes. Perhaps they've got the
price of a lodging, but they're hungry, and
they eats the money, and then they must lay
out There's some of 'em will stop out in the
wet for perhaps the sake of a halfpenny, and
get themselves sopping wet. I think all our
chaps would like to get out of the work if
they could; I'm sure Goose would, and so
would I.

" All the boys call me the King, because I
tumbles so well, and some calls me * Pluck,'
and some * Judy.' I'm called * Pluck,' cause
I'm so plucked a going at the gentlemen!
Tommy Dunnovan — * Tipperty Tight' — we
calls him, cos his trousers is so tight he can
hardly move in them sometimes, — he was the
first as called me *Judy.' Dunnovan once
swallowed a pill for a shilling. A gentleman
in the Haymarket says— * If you'll swallow
this here pill I'll give you a shilling;' and
Jimmy says, * All right, sir ; ' and he puts it
in his mouth, and went to the water-pails near
the cab-stand and swallowed it.

" All the chaps in our gang likes me, and
we all likes one another. We always shows
what we gets given to us to eat.

'* Sometimes we gets one another up wild,
and then that fetches up a fight, but that isn't
often. When two of us fights, the others stands
round and sees fair play. There was a fight
last night between * Broke his Bones ' — as we
calls Antony Hones — and Keddy Hall — the
* Sparrow,' or * Spider,' we calls him, — some-
thing about the root of a pineapple, as we was
aiming with at one another, and that called up
a fight. We all stood round and saw them at
it, but neither of 'em licked, for they gived in
for to-day, and they're to finish it to-night.
Wo makes 'em fight fair. Wo all of us likes
to see a fight, but not to fight ourselves. Hones
is sure to beat, as Spider is as thin as a wafer,
and all bones. I can lick the Spider, though
he's twice my size."

Thb Stbeet wheee the Boy-Swbepebs

LODGED.

I WAS anxious to see the room in which the
gang of boy crossing-sweepers lived, so that I
might judge of their peculiar style of house-
keeping, and form some notion of their prin-
ciples of domestic economy.

I asked young Harry and " the Goose ** to
conduct me to their lodgings, and they at
once consented, "the Goose" prefacing his
compliance with the remark, that *' it wem't
such as genilmen had been accustomed to, but
then I must take 'em as they was."

CtOG

LOSDOS LABOUR ASD THE LONDON POOH.

I'rayor.' Vtliich is nlioiit ihi- T^•Mls. 1 f»nly go
swri']'in;r in v\<t vimiIu.t, l:OA-an^o tlirn's tlu-
bc-«t tiiiif. ^Vlll•Il 1 am lliuii*, tluTf's sonic
Ijulirs unil yonih-nien :i&gi\.sto nn; ivjrnlju-.
1 knii\v;i iliL'Hi l>y >i;:lit ; uiiil tlh-if's u Imm r-
sluip Nvlicri' tiny ^'ivji iiic >'»iiu* bn-ud and
choi s{» wlK'nt-vfi- I \fo»

'• 1 troiicruUy tjikis nli«»ut si.xiionco, or scvcn-
j>cnn', tir oijJthtpi.ni'u on tin* on>ssini:, frum
iilinut nine o\-l<a-k in thu nu>niinL|^ till Tour in
tli«» (.'Vt.iiin;?, wliiii I ronu' Imnn'. I dun't
sin}) mil III ni;,'IiLs bi caiisi; r.if]|iT TTon't lot
nn-, luni I'm \HA lu bo hi»ni-.' to sio to baby.

"-My }irui»ni costs mo twoi-im-i li:i*j>rnny,
find in wit wi-athrr it bi-ts a v.: ili, bul in ili'v
woutbor \\v soldom nsc'S it.

"Wbon I sofs llic buNsc^ and carrisij^'i s
coming I stands on tlio sido, lui* I'm :LlV'nrd of
bcinj? runncd ovor. Li wiuUT I gois out runl
(li>uus laditfs' doors, poneral about linculn's-
inn, for tho Loasokoopcrs. I j,'- ts twtiponoc a
door, but it tukob A lonp; time wbcn tho ice is
burdoued, so that I c'ani't do only about two or
tlnve.

" I com't toll whetlior I shall always stop nt
fiwo<>piu;;, but I've no clothos, and so I oum't
get a situation; f<>r, though J'ni small and
young, yet I could do housework, such as
ob-aning.

*• Nil, sir, thcri-*fl do gan^' on my crossing —
Fm all alone. If anotluT girl <t n boy was to
romo and take it when I'm nut there, I should
slop on it as well as him or her, uud go sharos
with 'em."

GuiL Crossing -Swi:i:i'i:n.

I WAH U»ld that a liitlo piil f.-rmod onr of j
tho aswciatiiin of voun-; .swofpirs, :ind at my !
request one of the boys wont to foti-b ln.r. |

SIr' was a cloan-washod liltb^ thing, witli a i
l»n*tty, expressive countrnaniv, and i-arh limo I
hbo was aski'd a fjurstion shu frowned, like a |
baby in its sb.'ei». while thinking of tho answi-r. '
In lier rnr'^ slie won- instead of nn;;.s locits of
string, " whirli the dortor had ]»ut th«.'re ln-
canso her si;;lit was wrung." A cut ton vilvt t
bonnet, scareidy largrr than the suu-sliadi.s
worn at the sea-side, hung on lier shoulders,
leaving exposed h^r lu-ad, with the hair as
rough as tuw. Jfer green stuff gown was hang-
ing in tatti-rs, willi long threeconit-red niits
as lai'ge as j»imy kites, bhowing the grey lin-
ing und»;rnoath ; and licr mantle was sei>ar-
aied inti) so many pieces, that it was only held
tog(fther by the braiding at the ed^'-\

As she conversi'd wiiji me, she jilaycd with
tho strings of her l^ronnet, rolling them up as
if curling them, on her singularly small and
also singularly dirty fingrrs,

"I'll bo fourteen, sir, a foiinight before next
Christmas. I was bom in Liquorpond- street,
Gray's Jun-lane. Father come over from Ire-
land, and was a bricklayer. He had pains in
hih Ihnbs and wasn't strong enough, so he give
it over. He's dead now — been dead a long

time, sir. I was a littler girl tlten than I &:u
now, lor I wasn't above eUven at that lin:^.
I lived ^riili mother after fatlier die-i. SL ;
nst.il to x'll things in the streets — yes. siT,>Iie
was ii i-ustiT. AK'iut a iwelveniunth atitr
father's di-.ith, mother was taken bad t^itli liit*
ehobTn, and died. I then went along with bi^ili
gmndniothor and grandfather, who was j
port! r in Newgate Market ; I stopped thcr?
until 1 got a place as SriTant of ali-W!»rk. I
was only turned, just turned, eleven t lien. I
workril along with a French lady and giinil.*-
man in ilatton Garden, who used to prive m^
a shilLiu^' a- week and my tea. I u^o>l to p>
home to grandmotlier's to dinner ovtiy dny.
I hadn't to do any work, only jn>t to cKan tllo
room and nuss tlie child. It was a uici; hitlu
thing. I couldn't understand what the rremh
jMuiib' used to say, but there was a l>oy work-
ing thi re, and he used to explain to nic whit
thi-y mi>ant.

"I 1» il them l»ecauso they was going to :i
place called Italy — perhaps you m.iy liaie
heerd tell of it, sir. "Well, I suppose thi.=y niu-.!
have been Itahans, but we calls evenbuily,
whose talk we don't imdersLind, Frouoh. I
went back to grandmother's, but, after grunil-
fathor died, she couldn't keep me, and «=o I
wont out iK'gging — sho sent me. I carrioil
1 uci for-m atches and stay-laces f ust . 1 1 1 >• -d i n
carry about a dozen laces, and pcrh.ips I'd s^U
sisc out of them. I suppose I used to malrie
abuut sixpence a-day, and I used to take it
home to grandmother, who AopC and ft^-d mo.

"At last, finding I didn't get much at brjr-
gin;^, I thought Id go crossing rsw. v^|;i:i,:. I
siaw olhci- ibililrcn doing it. 1 sny.-i ♦.., '.ii\-l1i",
'I'll go and buy a bruom,' anil I sji.ike to aii-
<»ther littb* girl, who was s^vej'ing wy IImII.'ji:!,
who told mo what I was to do. • liul,' says
she. * ilon'l come and cut up me.'

" 1 went fust to llolboni, near to hoiTie, ai
the end of lied Lifin-stre«^t. Tbtii I wiis
fiii^htened of the cabs anil cnn-i.ii;!"^, but Id
g't there early, about eight o'eK-.k, aiid s^\e^'p
tile crossing clean, and I'd stand at tJi.r ^i le
on the pavement, and speak to tLo :j<.!iti-iu« \\
anil ladies before they cp^sscd.

'• There was a couple of boys, sweoii- rs fii
the same crossing before I wcrit there.*! www
to ihi-m and asked if I might oouk.' i)nd sweep
there too, and they s:dd Yes, if I would ?ive
tli'.m some of the Imlfponce I got. Tlu-^e was
bo\s about as old as I was, and they s:Jd. ii I
earned sixpence, I was to give tliom' t\v.,])'.nre
a-piocc; but they never give mo uoLijiidi of
tlieirs. 1 never took more than sixj" iiiv'. find
out of that I had to give fouii^eiiee, 5-.> thai 1
did not do so well as with the laces.

"The crossings made my hands «^ore with
tho swooping, and, as I got so little. I thondit
I'd tiy somewhere else. Then I got riglii dov.n
to the Fountings in Trafalgju--sijuare, 1 y tho
crossing at the stat*-}' on "oi-sobaok. Tliore
were a g<.H3d many Iwys and girls on tJiat cross-
ing otthe time — live of them; so I wont iUung

LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON JPOOR.

007

with them. When I fast went they said,
' Here's another fresh 'nn.' They come np to
me and says, 'Are you going to sweep here? '
and I says, « Yes ; ' and they says, *Tou mustn't
come here, there's too many;' and I says,
* They're different ones every day,' — for they're
not regular there, hut shift ahout, sometimes
one lot of hoys and girls, and the next day
another. They didn't say another word to me,
an«I so I stopped.

*' It's a capital crossing, hut there's so many
of us, it spiles it I seldom gets more than
sevenpenco a.day, which I always takes home
to grandmother.

'*rve heen on that crossing ahout three
months. They always calls me Ellen, my
regular name, and hehaves very well to me.
If I see anybody coming, I call them out as
the boys does, and then they are mine.

"There's a boy and myself, and another
strange girl, works on our side of the statey,
and ano^er lot of boys and girls on the other.

" I like Saturdays the best day of the week,
because that's the time as gentlemen as has
been at work has their money, and then they
are more generous. I gets more then, per-
haps ninepence, but not quite a shilling, on
the Saturday.

" Tve had a threepenny-bit give to me, but
never sixpence. It was a gentleman, and I
should know him again. Ladies gives me less
than gentlemen. I foller 'em, saying, ' If you
please, sir, give a poor girl a halfpenny;' but
if the police are looking, I stop still.

'< I never goes out on Sunday, but stops at
home with grandmother. I don't stop out at
nights like the boys, but I gets home by ten
at latest."

KND OF VOL. TU

INDEX.

Articles for amusement, socond-hand
sellers of ------ 16

Bcar-haiting - - - . -
Bedding, &c., gcoond-hond sellers of
Bird-catchers who are street sellers

ili]fl'i.'rd, Irii'kg. of - - -
— stTL'ct-stsller tlio crippled
Birdji'-neflts, BL'llerti of - - -
lifoofa - -
Birds, stuffed, seUcra of -

liire, JKjllere of - - -

foreign, fi^>Uerf of -

Bofi^-c:mbT>eM * * - - -

nmratiTie of a -
Boots And sliocs. eGeond-hand, sellers
Boj crossing-sweepeta* joom - -
Bri^c tmd flliick secisotiB
Bmshe«, aocond-bjind , sellers of -
Burnt lincu or calico - - -

of

54

15

64

C9

66

72

74

23

58

70

139

141

42

504

207

22

13

Cabinet-ware, second-hand, sellers of - 22
Casual labour in general - - - 297

■ brisk and slack e45&icms - 297

amoug the chimney-sweeps 374

CiLrpyiiug, &e, Bccoud-hond, Bcllers of
Cesspool omptyiug by trmik and hoso -
Cesspool system of London - - -
of Paris - - -
Cesspool^se werraan, sta t«(ment of a -
Ceaapoolag© and uigbtmcn
Chimuey-swe^pcif, tho London -

of old, and climbing-

boys

- stealing cbfldien -
Bores and diseases -
accidents - - -
cmelties towards -

> of the present day

14
447
437
438
448
433
339

346
847
850
851
852
854

Chimney-ffweopcrs, work and wages - 857
general character-
iatica of ----- 355

dress and diet - - 866
abodes - - - 367
festival at May-day 371
"leeks" - - - 875
knuUersandqueriers 876

^■■:^^^^.T|,1 fiiul.-r. ----- 145

Clocks, second-hand, sellers of - - 23
Clothes worn in town and country,

tablo showing comparative cost of - 192
Coal, consumption of - - - - 169

sellers of- ----- gl

Guko. bd].(--i> H-i' ----- 85
Cumuil^iiont TH of Sewers, powers of - 416
*' Coshar " meat killed for the Jews - 121
Criminals, number of, in England and

Wales -----1-320
Croflsing-mTeep^T the aristocratic - 467
tho bearded - - 471
a Begent-Street - 474
a tradesman's - - 476
" old woman over the
TViitor ----- 477

old woman who had
been a x>oiiBioncr ----- 478

one wl had boon a
serrant-maid ----- 479
the female Irish - 482
the Sunday - - 484
the wooden-legged - 486
the one-legged- - 488
the most aoferely
afflicted - - - . . 433

the n^ro who lost
both his kg9 - - - - . 49Q
the maimed Irish -> 498

4 '

no

INDEX.

flwUngof «he

thegiri

oQtbjIierfiitfaer- -
CioMiiig^twMpeni

496

m

501

M5
4A5

'ftUe-bodiadmAle - 467
who ham got pei«-
miMion fiom the poUoe» UKnUwrn of 472

AbMiodiod Iikh - 481

tho oocaiional - 484

thoaffliotod - - 486

————— boy, and tomblen - 494

_^_^— whon thej lodge 008

their loom - fi04

• gill .... 605

Ouriadtief^ Moond-haiid, adleii of - 21
Curtain^ Mooiid4iaiid» sellen of - - 14

Dog** finder's "career, a ... 51
Dog-flndenk ftealen^ and reetcnen, tli«
Ibnner -.-..--48
extent of their trade " - 49
Dogi,aeUenof ..... 5S
•^— ^ iporting; aeneii of - - - 54
'*Dollj"biiaineM,the .... 108
Dredgen, the, or lifer-flnden * - 147
Dntt-oontraoton .... - 168
Dnst-heap, composition of a - - - 171
■ separation of - - - 172

Dustmen, the ----- - 166

"filler "and ••carrier"- - 175

their general character - - 177

Dustmen, sweeps, and nightmon - - 159
— — — number of - - - 162

Employers, •• cutting." varieties of - 232

••drivers" - - - - 233

«* grinders"- - - - 233

Fires of London ----- 378

abstract of causes of - - - 379

extinction of - - - - - 381

Flusheimen, the working - - - 428

history of an individual - 430

Furs, second-hand, sellers of- - - 45

Gander, the ••captain" of the boy
sweepers ------ 499

Garret workmen, labour of - - - 802
Glass and crockery, second-hand, sel-
lers of ------- 15

2.

Gold and iOferlUii,

of ••

Hue and nMsK-ddni^ boyen of -
UameH^ aeooiid-liaiid, iellen of ->
HIU men and women ...
H(^-waah» fanjen of . . -
Homework .....
Horse, food eonramed by, an

tions hi twenty-lbar honn ...
Horw-dongof the itreeti of London -
■ groM ammal weight of -

Honae-dxiinage» •■ oonnected with the

riaa

78

111
SS

• m
m

31S

194
19S
195

" 895

Iron Jack ------ .11

Jew old dothea-men - - - - 119
— atreet-ieller, lifbofa - - - 122

boy atnet-ieUeni - - - - 122

their ponnitik traiBo^ fte. 128
124
181
115
117
117
121

»— girl itreet-aelleri
^-^ seUers of acoordloni, lee.
Jewa, tiie street . - - .
—— history of - - - -
-^ tradea and looalititti

habitaanddiet . - -

synagogues and xel^km

politios, Uteratoxe, andamnaemento 126

— oharitiea, schools, and edncatioii - lSf7
funeral ceremonies, fasts, and cus-
toms ------- 131

Jewesses, street, the - - - - 124

Kitchen-stuf^ grease, and dripping,

buyers of ------ m

Knuilers and queriers - - - - 376

Labour, economy of - - - - 307

Lasts, second-hand, sellers of - - 23

-Leelffl,"the ------ 375

Leverets, wUd rabbits, &c , sellers of - 77

Linen, second-hand, sellers of - - 13

Live animals, sellers of - - - - 47

London street drains - - - - 395

extent of - - 400

— order of - - 401

— — ^— ^ outlets, ramifica-
tions, &C., of- ----- 405

Low wages, remedies for - - - 254

•* LurkerV* a. career - - - - 51

^lurine-store sliops ----- log

May-day ------- 370

INDEX.

611

Mftj-day, sweeps* festival
Ken's Hf^cimd-hcLTid cloUiea, sellers of
Metal tmj», eocond-hand, sellera of
BletropoLitan police dietrictt the -

-— iiibabtkd houioa

■ popniatian

** Middleman ftVEtom of tvork -

PAOE

371
• 40
12
> 159
- 164
165
329
Monmonth-fitreet^ Dickons s desoripiion

of --86

Mod-larks- .-.-.. 155

story of a reclaimed - - 158

Blirioml productions and natural cn-

riositieB, aellet^ of - - - - 81
Music " dnffers " ----- 19
Musical instnunents, second-hand, sel-
lers of - - - - - - - 18

Night-soil, present disposal of - - 448
Nightmen, the, working and mode of
work ------- 450

Offal, how disposed of - - - - 7

Old Clothes ExchADge, tho - - - 26
wholesale bosi-

ncaaattbe ----- 27

Old clothes-men ----- X19

Old hats, sellers of - - - - - 43

Old JoliD» tbfj ^at^mmtit statement of 480

Old womiui over tho water,'** the - 477

Old wood gatherers - - - - 146

Paris, cesspool and sewer system of - 439
— rag-gatherers of - - - - 141
Paapcrs, street-sweeping, narratives of 245

number of, in England and

Wales ------- 320

PctlicoAt-lane, street-sellers of -
"Pore findci^ - - - - .
namitive of a female •
Purl-men, the ------

" Rag and bottle ** shops

86
143
144

93

108

Cii^'ti, bmken mctaU bottles, glass, and

boat?, buyers of ----- 106
** Ramoneur CJompany," the - - - 373

Rat-killing - ' 56

River beer-sellers ----- 93

River finders ------ 147

Rosemary-lane, street sellers of - - 39
Rubbish-carters, the - - - 281,289

■ wages and perquisites

of 292

Rubbish-carters, social chaiacteiistics of 295

casual labourers among 323

' scurf trade among - 327

Salt, sellers of ----- -

Sajid, BcUcna of - - - - .

8ciiVt?ngor, statemtnt of a " regular" -
Smveiigisra, Ti«VHtt?r, of former times -
oath of -

working - - - -

labour and rates of payment

easmil himiJf^ « - .

— habits and dif't - - -

influence of froo trade on

their eiLmiDgii - - - . .

worMo paid, the - - -

Bcftvengoty, coDtftt<5toiTs for - - -

regulations of -

premises of

Soavenging jet and Ijose eystem of -

Scurf-lfthoiirtr^ - - - - -

Second -Jjimd apparel, selUrs of -

articles, sellers of - -
experience of a

dealer in

articles, live animals, pro-
ductions, ^c, street-sellera of, their
numbers, capital, atid income -

giirmtsnk, uses of -

^Mietica of

■ fftore-ahopi

90
224
205
206
216
219
220
226

228
232
210
211
216
275
236
25
5

11

Seven-dials, Dickens's description of -
Sewage, metropolitan, quantity of

qualities and uses of - -

Sewerage, the City -----

— new plan of -

Sewerage and scavengery, London, his-
tory of -------

Sewers, ancient -----

kinds and characteristics of -

-^— - subterranean chanicter of
house-drainage in connection

with

ventilation of - - - -

fluiibing aiid plunging

— itita in the

— mtitiagcmcut of the, and the late
Comrisls-ilon - - - -

t-iimuiSeeioners, powers of

rate ------

Sewer-hunters

• numbers of -

• strange tale of

97
29
32

24
35
387
407
403
411

179
388
390
394

395
423
424
431

414
416
420
150
152
154

Hb*.lK m^Uca of * - - ^ - 01
Bhijihly m'aU ------ 30

fever -,_--_ 31

gpiilliUpi<i umrkfit, »ocsand4iatid felkra

ttt -------- iG

Bmoke, etili of , - _ _ - 3^9

■■ — Bcientifle opinions upon 310

SquiiTOlj, aeUets ^f - - * * - 77
**Stm|iping" fljatc:imi tbc;, illiistratbii

of*------- 304

Btrect-bnycfii. the*, VArielua of - - 103
gUcpt-^lcaufling, modga ami clmra^

teristicsof - ^ - - - - 207
-*« — . men ttod cart* eta-

ployi-lm ------ 213

-— -^-i- pttitper kboiir cm-

jlD>'e4 in ----- - 2i3

normtiTeicrf individual 24S

Sln^cl^QiIk, ecn«uii of - - - - I

ciLpiial and itadt» - - 2

i^ pfai)Qd|iUoo nf - * - 3

rdbo €if moreflj*G - - - 5

Stn^et-muek, or *^ trufcc '* _ ^ - I9g

— ^- ^imJiof * - - - loS

^— — viaueof - - - - 1*J9

Bttt^ci Jinvs, tho " - - - - lis

BtrertH.irrl<.rliea, tlio - - - - SIS!

~^ — ■ eomlition of - - - 261

a — ^ cxpcmditujpe of - - 205

» euiumgi of - - - 211(1

— City flUTFcjora report tif 271

Btrnet-swoeping, emplayens - - - 20W

— ■ porieUei ~ - ~ 2(^

Strcet-flweephig^ phiknUiDopkli -
Stieet-swflepmg maclimes -

liandfi employcsd -

- 209

- 208

Streeta of Loadac, liow p&ved - - ISI

tfiiffliiof - - - 1S4

dtiat and dirt of - 185

' — - lo&i nnJ

injury from

■ mnd of till?

' cost nnd tral&c of

Sweeping ohiimierTa of steara-vcasdii -
SudjouDe-wator of the streeU of London

135

200
278
372

202
■ ^ ' * onfllyaifl of 205

Tim-turr, eellcr* of - - - - - 8f7

Tea-lcaveat Ifuyera of - - - - 133
Tebjjcopea and poclotr^baics, aeooad-

htmd^ aelloxa of ----- ^

** Tnmslalors " of old bIiocs - - ^ 34

■ -^ ext4j» t of the trade - 35

Tumbling boj-^\Tro<^i% Mug of the - 0W

Umbrallfti Mid pam^oli, tuycn of * 115

Waahing espensca iu I/Oiwlon - - W^

Waartc-pJipcT, buyt^rs ivf - - - - 113

Wat<?r, dnily supply of the »iebo|wiij - 203

WatermeuH Cbn- "^ ^1 ofikTsuais- 06

Weajiona, aecoTi ! Ira of- - 21

Wet Iioiujc-i-cfo^o ----- ?JS3

— — - mainfl of rcD^oTing - iJSl

Worn en'B st» poa (l-haod (ipporel, fcdlei» u f 41

Wmpixira of bole-stiuf " - - - i;i

Yoong Mike the croesiug-awecpct - 403

i I

i/cmxm : rtnrtEC n wiujam cy>im mxu BStsa, ttAMso^» tr^t^*

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